Christmas party

"Yes, dear colleagues. The time has come. We have waited long enough. Make way for Saint Nicholas!" The man at the microphone, who was moderating the Christmas party for the company "Fantastic Plastic," bowed somewhat awkwardly.

He was responsible for completely different things in the company, mainly the financial statements. He had only lost a dice game against the employees from the export department and therefore had to make all the announcements throughout the evening. Including announcements like when someone had parked incorrectly or when someone's wife was coming to pick them up without them knowing beforehand.

The man had a voice like the announcer from the carnival ride "The Caterpillar": "Attention, attention, please hold on tight to Car 14. And off we go on a wild ride… Wooohoo!"

Edwin is in the cloakroom behind the stage of this hall, which belongs to the village inn, and he doesn't get much from the hustle and bustle up front. It's nice and warm in here. Outside, it's about 5 degrees below zero. Inside, it's probably 28 degrees. Sweat isn't just standing on his forehead. He has learned his lines, but at the moment, the vacuum in his head seems to be increasing second by second.

He got the text from the company's executive assistant, who also hired him to play Saint Nicholas for this Christmas party. He's been doing this "job" for a few years during the Advent season to "boost" his personal Christmas bonus. Sometimes here, sometimes there. Mostly here. The piece of paper with the notes about the employees is gone. Another outbreak of sweat is imminent. Although, the text wasn't that demanding. Rather simple. The employees of this plastic company should be teased a little. Just like at family gatherings in New Jersey.

At "round" anniversaries, there's always a humorous all-encompassing blow against the relatives. Unfortunately, not everyone understands this humor.

Anyway, where is the paper? He's one hundred percent sure it was in the bag with the costume. He had put it on top so he could go over it again before the performance. Now it's gone. But why have the words disappeared from his head as well?

Edwin also tries to remember the names of the executive assistant and her boss. No chance. Nothing left in his brain. Basically, brainless. This wardrobe reminds Edwin of a slightly too small changing room, similar to one he knew from a jeans store. Two by two meters. A 10-watt light bulb from 1980 prevents total darkness. There is no mirror here. But there are four clothes hooks and a wooden chair without a backrest. So, a stool. It also wobbles.

The hooks were occupied with two large plastic bags containing the costume and the spare costume (in case something happens), as well as his complete clothes, which are a bit more extensive this time of year. On the floor, with a small, ugly, worn-out, round carpet that seems to reproduce the smells of all the feet that touched it in the last 50 years, are his street shoes and the red boots he dyed himself with white fur trimming.

So: the note is one hundred percent within a one-meter radius.

Edwin hears the murmurs from the hall, as well as the voice of the amateur emcee.

"It can't be much longer now. Santa Claus must still tie his reindeer to the parking meter. Ha ha!" Laughter.

These words now came softly but understandably into the dressing room. "It's time, I have to go out!" The sudden adrenaline rush in his body helps Edwin change clothes at the speed of a professional model. It doesn't even take 30 seconds for him to have the costume on. He reaches into the right pocket of the costume and feels the note he was looking for.

A stone falls from his heart. "Thank God!" he whispers to himself. He rips the door open. It almost falls off its hinges, and he confidently marches towards the stage.

Just two meters to the curtain. He can feel the audience's anticipation. A strange atmosphere hangs over the hall.

He straightens his spine one more time. He wants to wipe his slightly damp hands on his clothes. Can't do it. There are costume gloves over them. How is he going to unfold the note with those things?

Whatever. It will work out. He will be the celebrated star in a moment.

Bam!

Because the boots somehow felt strangely soft, he stumbled over his own feet and landed on his stomach in the direction he was heading. He teetered back and forth like on the runners of a rocking horse.

The employees of the company waiting for Santa Claus saw the curtain on the stage open slightly and a head wobblingly land on the boards that mean the world. Roaring laughter. Edwin acted as if it was all intentional and crawled another two meters before pulling himself up on the microphone stand. The entire structure with the holder fell over.

The still switched-on microphone started to whistle due to feedback. The audience slapped their thighs.

A few of the already very tipsy employees in the room started singing a song: "Oh, you joyful…" Only the boss's secretary and the boss himself did not move a muscle. The two seemed more like they wanted to cancel the event.

Regardless, Edwin was here and hired as Santa Claus today, and he was going to follow through. After all, he was a professional. Almost. In the end, he received $ 50 for this performance.

After packing all his belongings from the cloakroom with a single grab and almost reaching the main exit, he noticed a movement in the left corner of his eye. He paused briefly and looked over. A huge mirror. Framed between two oversized jugs or Chinese flower vases from Taiwan. He looked at himself with wide-open eyes. This couldn't be happening.

The wrong slip in the wrong bag.

Why on earth is he wearing an Easter bunny costume?