A Meeting With Santa

Just who do you think you are? she thought.

But she’d come this far so what did she have to lose? All Santa could do was say no.

She hesitated then tapped at Santa’s door.

She waited. No answer.

She tapped again.

No one home.

She sighed. "Oh, well, I tried."

Just as Olive was about to leave, the door burst open.

"Ho! Ho! Ho! Well, well, look who it is!" Santa said. He had only one boot on. "I’m just getting ready to go over to Mission Control to check things out before the Big Trip. What can I do for you, Olive?"

"Hi, Santa. I thought I’d ask if there, uh, was — was —"

"Was what, Olive?"

"Well, anything I could do."

Santa thought. "No, I can’t think of anything."

"Oh."

"What did you have in mind?"

"Well — uh — well —"

Olive was tongue-tied.

"Please, I’m really in a hurry," Santa said. "Well?"

When he hears what I want he’ll laugh at me, Olive thought. That’s worse than a simple no. She just blinked.

"I can’t think of a thing you could do," Santa said.

"Well, I just thought I’d, you know, ask anyway."

Santa shrugged. "Thank you for asking, Olive."

"You’re welcome, Santa."

She left and Santa scratched his head.

"What a strange conversation," he muttered.