I'm writing this from a sleigh.

Hey. Merry Christmas. I'll bet that right now you're all gathered around your fireplaces, maybe drinking cocoa or warm eggnog with a sprinkle of cinnamon on top. Maybe you're in your aunt's bathroom (and you can hear the murmur of the rest of your family all laughing (maybe playing Pictionary!) and dancing and eating and gesturing right outside the door) filling your pockets with the mini soaps and Hershey's kisses and things that she puts out for guests. I do that when I go to family parties. I take things. Why not? I take candies. Once, I took a vacuum. Whatever. No one notices. You wanna know what I'm doing right now? Well, I'm in a sleigh. A magic sleigh with Internet access. Imagine! Santa's here. But he's preoccupied as you can imagine. Santa called my mobile earlier and asked if I could help with some last minute tasks. He says that usually he'll only accept help from elves, but that since I'm as ugly as an elf he thought it'd be alright. It's freezing in this sleigh. And Santa acted like he didn't know what I was talking about when I asked him for some Turkish Delight. What's going on here? Santa just told me that my "duty" for tonight is to take him back to his cabin at the north pole and rub salve all over him because "dry skin is a bitch."