Copyright (c) 1994 JINGLE THIS, PAL! The man in the grey leather jacket was lining up another dart toss when the office door opened a crack. "Incoming!" floated through the opening in an all-too-familiar drawl. Ruby Begonia followed, clad in an outfit undoubtedly meant to be festive, but achieving only garishness. She sashayed up to the desk, plunked down a pile of printouts, and frowned. "Ah need your help, hon. Mah messages aren't gettin' to the man himself." She waved in the direction of the pile of printouts, and perched on the corner of the desk. "Well, let me have a look," Michael Hahn said, taking the sheet from the bottom of the stack: =================================================================== To: santa.claus@north.pole.com From: Ruby Begonia Subject: Christmas Doin's Yo, Santa: This bein' the first Christmas in my newly-opened truck stop, I kinda figgered I'd have a big blowout. Thought maybe you could pop by for a sec and entertain my buds. I'll even spring for the egg nog. Sincerely yours, Ruby Begonia =================================================================== To: Ruby Begonia From: Dweezil McGonigle Subject: Christmas Doin's Dear Ms. Begonia: Christmas is our busy season, and as Mr. Claus' official appointment secretary, I'm sorry to inform you that he will not be able to attend your affair. Please accept our apologies. Dweezil McGonigle Second Assistant Appointments =================================================================== To: santa.claus@north.pole.com From: Ruby Begonia Subject: Christmas Doin's Yo, Santa: Some weasel named Dweezil intercepted my last message to you. He tried to tell me you wouldn't have time to stop by the truck stop for a nog and a little fun. I think you better keep an eye on those little pointy-eared guys. See ya on Christmas Eve--try to stop by around nine. Your Jingle-Bud, Ruby =================================================================== To: Ruby Begonia From: Alphonse Periwinkle Subject: Christmas Doin's Ms. Begonia: I was forwarded your last two messages by my assistant. First of all, let me assure you that your missives were reviewed by the appropriate persons, and that Mr. Claus's schedule will not allow him to visit your establishment in other than his official capacity. Secondly, both I and my assistant were offended by your characterization and your racial slur. Cease and desist. Sincerely, Alphonse Periwinkle Director, Scheduling =================================================================== To: santa.claus@north.pole.com From: Ruby Begonia Subject: The little guys with the pointy ears Santa: Beware the elves. They're readin' your mail, and they're keepin' you from talkin' to your friends. Probably like herdin' cats, havin' to manage all those little runts. Anyway, I'll be holdin' a mug of my best nog just for you. We'll all be lookin' for you. See ya soon. Deck those halls, Ruby =================================================================== To: Ruby Begonia From: Alistair Entwhistle Subject: Legal Action Ms. Begonia: Your harassment of my vertically-challenged clients will cease immediately, or I will be forced to file for damages. Additionally, I am obtaining a court order to restrain you from attempting to contact Mr. Claus. Santa is extremely busy at this time of year, and he does not need to waste his time with frauds and charlatans claiming a personal relationship. A perusal of our records indicates you are most assuredly *not* on the "Nice" list. Alistair Entwhistle, Esq. Chief Legal Counsel North Pole Enterprises =================================================================== "What we have here," said the man in the grey leather jacket, "is a failure to communicate." He stroked the bridge of his nose with a forefinger. "So what're we gonna do about it?" Ruby asked, tugging on her boustierre. "The jolly fat guy in the red suit is just what this joint needs for the Christmas party." Michael smiled. "You're overlooking the obvious, Ruby." He paused, fired a dart at the back of the office door. "Think about it. You're a virtual character. He's a virtual character." Plunk. Another dart creased Bob Dole's brow. "When you want to change costumes, you change costumes." Plunk, plunk. Two more darts gave Bitter Bob a pair of horns. "Now, you and I know he can't come..." "So ya mean, uh, well..." she crinkled her forehead in concentration, "...so ah can, uh...OH!" She got it, finally. *** Christmas Eve was rocking, and the man in the grey leather jacket had parked himself on the stool farthest from the jukebox. Herm Holtz slid onto the next stool, grunted a greeting in Michael's direction. He turned to watch Santa gyrate to the tune of "Devil with a Blue Dress On". "Hey," Herm hollered, nudging a grey leather elbow, "how did Ruby get Santa to boogie?" Michael just smiled, shook his head slightly. No one had noticed Santa's shiny black boots had high heels, with globes attached... END