Santa awoke that day as he had every other morning for the past...well, as he had every other morning. He had always been Santa and each dawn started the same way.

    Rising early, before the Mrs. even stirred, he put on a pot of fresh Joe and stoked the dying embers of the fire. The reindeer would be hungry.

    It was bitterly cold, and he bundled up tightly against the wind. Santa’s cheeks resembled pink roses and his little round belly pushed up tight against the inside lining of the jacket. He had put on weight and most of his clothes were much too small.

    As he made his way to the stables, Santa made a mental list in his head. There was still a lot to do before Christmas Eve, and he was behind schedule. Not to worry yet, but...

    A shout rang out through the stillness of the chilly morning air. "Help, help!" It was coming from the reindeer quarters. Santa picked up the pace. His short stubby legs would only move so fast, and before he knew it, he slipped on a piece of ice.

    Two Christmases ago, Mrs. Claus gave him a device she’d seen advertised in The North Pole Gazette. It was in his jacket pocket, for just such an occasion, and he activated the alarm. Within seconds, Reginald, his Chief Elf, was by his side.

    "Boss, what have you done? Are you all right?"

    "I don’t know," said Santa. "I think I hurt my back again."

    "Boss, that’s terrible. It’s almost Christmas."

    Santa had injured his back several years ago and herniated two lower discs. Occasional flare-ups forced bed rest.

    "Don’t worry about me, Reggie," Santa said. Something’s wrong in the barn. I need you to check it out."

    "I can’t leave you here, Mr. C," the elf said.

    Another shout, more piercing and frantic. "Help, someone, please help!!"

    "Go!" Santa said. "That’s an order!"

    Reginald shot off towards the barn. "I’ll be back!"

    Within minutes, he returned, accompanied by Rudolph. The reindeer was distraught. "It’s Dasher," Rudolph said. "He’s been kidnapped! We found this."

    The ransom note was written in a childish scrawl.

    "Read it to me," Santa said.

    "If you ever want to see Dasher again, forget about Christmas this year!" Rudolph looked at Santa for guidance.

    "This is terrible. Quick, help me up." The elf and deer pulled Santa to his feet and carried him to the sleigh, and then Rudolph brought him to the house where Mrs. Claus waited.

    "Oh, Nicky," she said. "What in the world have you done now?"

    The big man was put to bed and his doctor was called. Santa asked to see Rudolph. "I need your help," he said.

    "You have to find out what happened to Dasher. We must save Christmas."

    "I’ll try Mr. C," said Rudolph, "but what can I do?"

    "You’re smart," said Santa, "you’ll figure something out. I’m counting on you, Rudolph. The kids are counting on you, too."

    "I’ll do my best, Santa," the reindeer promised.

    The doctor arrived and prescribed a mild sedative and some muscle relaxants. Santa had not done any serious damage, but would need to stay in bed for a few days. "Oh, and by the way, your blood pressure is off the charts, your last cholesterol check was way too high, and it’s a strain on your back to carry around so much poundage. I’m going to give Mrs. Claus a strict diet I want you to follow and instructions to enroll in yoga as soon as the holiday is over. And, lay off that pipe, would ya?"

    Santa frowned at the doctor.

    "One more thing. You should think about retiring. You’re not getting any younger, you know."

    "Bah, humbug," Santa said.

    "Wrong story," said the doctor, as he left his house- call bill on the night stand.

***

    The next morning, Santa summoned Rudolph to his bedside. "Do you have any leads?" he asked hopefully.

    "Well, I’ve talked to the elves," Rudolph said. "It seems Reginald is not all he appears."

    "What do you mean?" asked Santa. "Reggie’s been with me since he was a kid."

    "I know, and he’s always been well-liked, but this year, he’s been acting bossy and refusing to do his share of the work. Says he’s paid his dues and now it’s someone else’s turn."

    "That doesn’t sound like the Reggie I know. I need to think about this. Come see me tomorrow."

    The next day, Rudolph was visibly upset. "Santa, there’s been another one!" He placed a second note, again in the same childlike scrawl, on Santa’s bed.

    If you ever want to see Dancer again, forget about Christmas this year! the note read.

    "It’s Dancer, this time."

    "Oh, no, not Dancer." Santa wiped away a tear. "Rudolph, whatever are we going to do?"

    "I had a chance to talk with all of the other reindeer and no one heard or saw anything strange either night. There’s no sign of breaking and entering so we have to assume the perpetrator has a key."

    "Have them take shifts tonight standing guard. This has to stop. Christmas is almost here."

    "There’s one more thing," Rudolph said.

    "Yes?"

    "It’s Blitzen."

    "Yes?" Santa looked heartsick.

    "There’s an attitude I’ve not noticed before. He’s been grumbling to Donder that he’s sick of being last all the time. It’s the hardest position, he says. He carries the most weight and is closest to the whip, he says. I wouldn’t know, personally, because I’m always in front, lighting the way, but I guess he does have a point. And he claims, in recent years, it’s gotten worse since you put on more weight."

    "I never thought of that," said Santa. "Poor Blitzen."

    "Yeah, but remember poor Blitzen may be our reindeernapper. Don’t feel sorry for him, yet."

    "You’re right," agreed Santa. "He might be."

***

    Later, after Santa finished his afternoon nap, Mrs. Claus checked on her husband. "Nicky, how’s your back today?" She stroked his beard and kissed him on the nose.

    "Not as bad," he lied. Christmas Eve would be here soon, and if the wife knew he wasn’t up to par, she might try to stop him.

    But it was too late; she caught his grimace as Santa tried to sit up. "I saw that," she said.

    "I know you did." It was hard to act jolly when your back hurt.

    "Nicky, don’t you think maybe this year you should call Christmas off? With everything that’s happened, I mean. You know, sometimes we’re given signs and if we don’t heed them, something bad can happen."

    "You and your hocus pocus." Santa patted the edge of the bed. "Come up here." He wiggled his eyebrows.

    "Nicky," Mrs. C blushed. "You’re not feeling well."

    "I may not be feeling well, but I’m not dead," Santa said, eyes twinkling. "Now, get up here, sugarplum."

    Later, Santa wanted a smoke and reached for his pipe. Mrs. Claus smacked his hand. "Give me that," she said. "You know the doctor..."

    "Doctor, schmoctor, I want my pipe."

    "All right." She handed it to him. "But it’s not going to do you much good without this." She was lively and quick and before he knew it, she’d wrestled the bag of tobacco away from his clutches.

    "Woman," he said, "I’m gonna..."

    "You just did," Mrs. C said. "It’s time for your dinner, Nicky. Here’s your book." She handed him his latest read, a novel called Carrie. He was almost finished.

    Half an hour passed and dinner was served. Santa sat in bed, tray on lap, bemoaning the gruel placed before him.

    "Doctor’s orders," Mrs. Claus said.

    "Ugh," said Santa, but he ate it.

    "Nicky," she asked, when he was trying to swallow a very dry carrot, "do you trust Rudolph?"

    "With my life. Rudolph will go down in history. Why?"

    "I know there was all that trouble a few years back when everyone laughed at him and called him names. And, that nose makes me uncomfortable. It’s always glowing. Doesn’t it ever stop?"

    Santa glanced over at his night stand. Carrie was there. Poor Carrie, everyone laughed at her. The entire school called her names. And, she got even, boy oh boy, did she ever. Was Rudolph Carrie?

    "No, you must be mistaken. Rudolph would never do something like this."

    But, would he?

    "Well, it’s something to think about. Anyway, I’ve got to go out for a little while. Why don’t you finish your book while I’m gone?"

    "Where are you going?" Santa grabbed her. "It’s late."

    "Just for a little while," she repeated. "Errands."

    When she returned, Santa was asleep and the house was quiet. Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse. Mrs. Claus undressed, trying not to disturb her husband, placed her clothes and boots gently in the closet, and closed the bi-fold doors. She took the book off his chest, returned it to the night stand, and kissed her Nicky goodnight.

***

    Early the following morning, Rudolph was at Santa’s door. "Santa, whatever are we going to do? Prancer’s gone!"

    Sure enough, another note, this time more menacing than the others.

    "If you do not call off Christmas NOW, all the reindeer will die!! Including Rudolph!!" Santa read aloud.

    "This is serious. I’ll have to call it off. For the first time ever, there will be no Christmas."

    "No, that can’t happen," Rudolph said.

    "It has to. You are my children. I’ll never forgive myself if anything happens to any of you." He smiled at Rudolph. "Say," Santa said, "what happened to the watch? I thought you were going to take turns keeping guard."

    "We did, but Comet fell asleep, and that must have been when the culprit struck. There’s still hope, though. I laid a trap."

    "What kind of trap?" Santa asked.

    "A special kind," said Rudolph. "One that can’t be missed."

***

    After lunch, Mrs. Claus came into the room. Santa was semi-dozing on the bed. "I’m going out for awhile," she said.

    "Again? What’s going on with you? Should I be jealous?"

    "No, silly. I’m just going to the drugstore to get some medicine. I feel a cold coming on and I can barely breathe." She slipped out of her housecoat and into a pair of slacks and a sweater. Sitting down, she put on her wool socks.

    "Dressing warmly, I see," Santa said.

    "It’s freezing outside, Nicky." Mrs. Claus picked her favorite boots out of the closet. "See you soon, my love," she said.

    "Can I have a smooch?" Santa asked.

    "No, you may not. I don’t want you to get sick too." Mrs. C blew him a kiss from across the room as she left.

    What’s that smell, Santa thought? Did she?…No, she never did that. In the time they’d been together, he couldn’t remember her ever doing that.

    Except that smell. What was it? It wasn’t going away, if anything only seemed to be worse. It smells like the stables, Santa realized.

    He knew he shouldn’t move, but he couldn’t help it. Santa pulled himself out of bed and crawled along the floor.

    Sure enough, there it was, on the bottom of the closet, underneath the spot where Mrs. Claus’s boots had been. The smell was unmistakable. She hadn’t noticed she’d stepped in it because of her cold.

    But, was it Rudolph’s? He had to be sure. Santa made his way to the window and closed the curtain, then back to the bed, and switched off his table lamp. It was the reindeer’s, all right. No way it couldn’t be.

    It glowed in the dark.

***

    Santa was devastated. The betrayal he felt was enormous. How could she do this? Why would she do this?

    When Mrs. Claus returned, he confronted her immediately. "I’m sorry, Nicky," she cried. "It’s the only thing I could think of. I just couldn’t bear the thought of you out there again all night. You know your eyesight isn’t what it used to be, and you could catch your death."

    Santa softened, a little.

    "The missing reindeer have been given the best of care. And surprisingly, after they discovered my plan, they backed it, glad for the break. They’re ageing too, you know. I was planning on bringing them home as soon as Christmas was over."

    Santa softened a little more. "But, honey, what about the kids? How could you do this to the children?"

    "I thought about that," she said, "and decided the children would learn the true meaning of Christmas if they weren’t so concerned with gifts. One year wouldn’t hurt them, and by next year, you’d have your replacement trained."

    "My what?" Santa asked. Had he heard her right?

    "Your replacement."

    "Let’s get one thing straight right now, woman. I am Santa Claus, Kris Kringle, St. Nick, whatever you want to call me. I have always been Santa and I will always be Santa. I might be getting a little older but I can take care of that."

    "What do you mean, Nicky?" Mrs. C asked.

    "You’ll find out. Right now, we have work to do."

***

    It was Christmas Eve and the gang sat around the fire, drinking spiced-rum eggnog. There was Santa, Mrs. Claus, Reginald, and all the other elves. There was Dasher and Dancer and Prancer and Vixen, Comet and Cupid and Donder and Blitzen. And of course, Rudolph, the most famous reindeer of all, was there.

    Mr. and Mrs. Claus made a deal. The delivery of the presents was subbed out, and because the gifts absolutely, positively had to be there overnight, they hired Fed Ex.

    The doctor stopped by earlier and wrote them all, reindeer included, prescriptions for Xanax. Santa made a list and checked it twice and then scheduled appointments for a full body work-up, pneumonia and flu shots, and cataract surgery.

    He and Mrs. Claus bought a year’s membership to a gym and promised to exercise three times a week. A local dietician would prepare their meals, and the doctor placed a patch on Santa’s arm to aid in his nicotine withdrawals.

    After checking his records, Santa noticed Reggie hadn’t received a raise in years so he gave him retroactive pay, and a ticket for a cruise ship vacation. The elf’s attitude changed immediately.

    Santa promised Blitzen he didn’t have to be last anymore, and from now on, each Christmas, the order of the reindeer would be switched. Except for Rudolph, of course. Fate made him the leader of the pack, and that was the way it would always be.

    The presents were opened, and since she’d been a bad girl, Mrs. Claus got a lump of coal and some switches. She didn’t mind. She knew later, Santa would put her on his lap and see what she wanted in her stocking next year.

    After dinner, Santa Claus gave thanks for his family and friends and wished for peace on earth. "God bless us, everyone," Santa said.

    "Wrong story," said Rudolph.