Mrs. Claus takes the reins

Dec 25, 2012 News

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By Michael Jordan

You not ready yet?” Santa bawled from his seat by the television as he watched a pirated DVD of the Pacquiao and Marquez fight.
“Just a few minutes more, Kris,” she called back from the bedroom.
Santa sighed. She had said that three times already. The last time he had peeped into the bedroom, she was still dabbing powder on her face.
Imagine that…wearing makeup to deliver toys at midnight.
It was just his luck that he had slipped on some ice and broken his leg just three days before Christmas Eve. He should never have drunk the bottle of Grey Goose he’d collected from a friend in Guyana last year.
He knew he couldn’t handle the rough ride or clamber down any chimney with his leg in a plaster cast.
And that meant that for the first time ever, he wouldn’t be doing the round–the–world trip on Christmas Eve.
He didn’t trust the elves. That had left only one person…Mrs. Claus…who was still admiring herself in front of the wardrobe mirror.
He was about to call out again when she came into the living room. He gave her some last-minute instructions, then she kissed him and was out the door.
As she climbed into the sleigh, Mrs. Claus recalled some of her husband’s instructions. One of them was that she should get the worst part of the journey over first. That meant that she would make Guyana her first stop.
He’d given her a long list of do’s and don’ts about Guyana, which included places to avoid: Don’t go by the Globe Yard or the Cathedral or fly over the Mandela Avenue dumpsite (“That’s like passing over a stinking volcano” he’d said) and don’t park the sleigh in the Diamond New Scheme because the cows there might want to ‘interfere’ with Vixen, the only female among the reindeer.
But she was curious. She wanted to at least see the Cathedral, maybe have someone take a picture of herself standing outside one of the world’s highest wooden buildings.
There were about five scantily-clad women sitting on a rail near the Cathedral when she arrived. When they saw the sleigh, they let out shrieks of excitement and wiggled up to Mrs. Claus, while singing:
“Santa baby, and hurry down the chimney tonight…”
It was not until they were close to the sleigh that they realised that it was Mrs. Claus and she realised that not all of them were women.
The ‘women’ stopped abruptly and changed the song….
“Who feeds the reindeer all their hay?
Who wraps the gifts and packs the sleigh?
Who’s helping Santa every day?
Mrs. Santa Claus…”
Mrs. Claus sucked her teeth, threw a few packs of condoms at them and left, reminding herself to have a word with her husband when she returned to the North Pole.
Remembering that Santa had told her to get the difficult parts of the journey over first, she decided to tackle the politicians and get it over with.
She headed to Meadowbrook Gardens where the opposition leader lived. She found him sitting on his verandah, dressed in green pajamas.
“Wha happening squaddie?” she said in her best Guyanese accent.
The Opposition Leader, fists clenched, rushed up to Mrs. Claus, then, realizing who she was, unclenched his fists and gave her a sulky good night.
“Wha bothering you, man?” she said.
The ex-soldier remained silent for a moment, the said: “Yuh husband does take back gifts?”
Mrs. Santa shook her head. “No, squaddie. Once you ask for something and you get it, you can’t get it exchanged. That’s the rules.”
The tall ex-soldier did a brisk about-turn and pointed to a huge box on the verandah. “So what am I supposed to do with all this?” He marched across to the box, opened it, and returned to Mrs. Claus, shaking a handful of green shirts, green jerseys, green socks, green ties, and green underwear in her face.
Mrs. Claus bit back a smile. She remembered the previous Christmas how she and the elves had packed several huge cartons with green attire. She had grown dizzy from seeing all that green.
“Who you sending this for, dear…Robin Hood or the Green Hornet?” she had joked.
Her husband had sighed. “You don’t really want to know, girl. All I can tell you is that it is elections season again in Guyana and everybody’s gone crazy. These are going to the Opposition, and the red shirts in the corner are going to the Government.” He had then pointed to a massive container. “That one’s got in a second-hand water cannon.”
Mrs. Claus put on her most sympathetic face and said: “That is what my husband sent you last year?”
The Opposition Leader nodded gloomily. “And I’ve got plenty more boxes inside.”
It was then that Mrs. Claus hit on a bright idea.
“I’ve got a box with some nice shirts in the sleigh.”
The Opposition leader’s face brightened. “No red ones, though.”
“Nah, squaddie, no red ones.”
“And maybe you could drop off these boxes at Camp Ayanganna.”
They parted on a good note; the opposition leader with the new shirts and Mrs. Claus with the boxes and a piece of black cake.
After dumping the clothes off at Camp Ayanganna, she instructed Rudolph to head up the East Coast of Demerara for Pradoville II.
Santa had said that the residents didn’t need anything, but rules were rules.
Soon she was circling high over Pradoville II. She gaped in astonishment at the huge mansion that took over most of the community.
So it was true. This building could be seen from outer space.
She landed on a section of the mansion. She took out the map that
Santa had given her so she wouldn’t get lost on the property. It was then that she realised that she had actually landed on one of the outdoor toilets used by the security personnel.
Mrs. Claus directed Rudolph to head east of the compound, and they eventually stopped at the front door of the mansion. She took out a pocket mirror and checked her hair and makeup before rapping at the door. It was only then that she noticed the sign ‘On extended holiday in good old USA.’
Sucking her teeth, she took out the doctorate she had brought for the owner of the mansion. She slipped the document under the door and left, heading back to Georgetown.
She made a quick stop at the Brickdam office of the latest bankrupt local airline charter, recalling now that Santa Claus had said that everyone had to get a present, whether they had been bad or good. “And this man of all people needs cheering up,” Santa had added.
Rummaging in her sleigh, she produced a sympathy card which she and her husband had signed, along with two CDs; one with the old Eddie Hooper tune ‘Where are Your Friends Now?’, and another with the Pamela Maynard hit ‘Lost, Lonely and Helpless.’ There was a third CD with ‘I’m having a Blue Christmas.’
Santa had suggested that they add the Elvis Presley hit ‘Jailhouse Rock’, but they were unable to find the CD in time.
She put the gifts in a bag and hung it on an office door.
Checking her list, she saw that her next scheduled stop was the East Bank of Demerara.
She was cruising along, flying low to get a close-up view when she saw a road sign indicating that she had reached Agricola.
At the same time, she heard someone yell: “THE WATER CANNON COMING!”
Next thing she knew, bottles and bricks were sailing past the sleigh from one end, while the police mobile patrol was firing teargas from the other end. Someone then rolled some tyres onto the roadway and set the heap alight.
Shouting quickly “On Dasher, on Dancer, on Cupid…” Mrs. Claus shot away from Agricola, but not before throwing out a large bag of toys, and another sack with old tyres, kerosene and matches. When she looked back, the protestors and the cops were arguing over whose children should get the gifts.
She was still speeding along the East Bank Demerara when she spotted the hotel near Providence. An exciting thought struck her. Checking her wallet, she took out a few US notes. She then parked the sleigh and headed for the casino.
Soon she was in a corner playing some intense poker. Mrs. Claus was so engrossed in the game that she almost forgot her mission until her cell phone rang.
It was Santa. And now she realised that it was almost dayclean.
“You getting through, girl?” Santa asked.
“Yes, I’m nearly done,” she replied. “And your friends by the Cathedral say hi,” she added before hanging up.
Grabbing up her winnings she ran outside and boarded her sleigh. She made a quick stop in the North-West, where she dropped off presents and medevaced two pregnant women and a miner with a snake-bite to the Georgetown Hospital.
She checked her sack again and realised that she still had several toys to deliver, and decided to improvise. She threw toys left and right through windows without consulting the list, which meant that boys woke up on Christmas Day to find that they had received dolls and girls opened their presents to find toy cars and guns inside.
At last the sack was almost empty, save for a bag with a large sledge hammer. It was then that it hit her that she had overlooked one of the government officials who also lived in the same area with the Opposition leader.
She rushed back to Meadowbrook Gardens and located the politician’s house. A bedroom was open and she could hear someone snoring loudly inside. She threw the sledge hammer through the window.
The snoring ceased abruptly. Someone let out a yelp of agony. She heard cursing and footsteps heading towards the window.
Mrs. Claus leapt into the sleigh and beat a hasty retreat to the North Pole.

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