Santa's Stowaway

'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house

Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse;

I wasn’t sure who came up with that “no stirring” nonsense, but during the night was when I stirred the most. And Christmas Eve was no different. In fact, this was the event of the year. During my first Christmas last year, I heard the humans talk about a fat guy in a red suit that could fly around the world and I knew I had to find a way onto that sleigh. I didn’t want to spend the rest of my life exploring the same nooks and crannies in the same house, hoping for the same humans to drop the same crumbs of food. I wanted adventure. And jolly ol’ Saint Nick was my ticket out of there. I was already nearing retirement age and the most exciting thing that ever happened to me was when the small human dropped a large piece of cheese on the ground and kicked it under the fridge. My family and I feasted on that for days. I could still taste it if I thought hard enough. 

The clock on the wall chimed the hour. Midnight. I wasn’t sure of the big guy’s flight plan, but he had to be arriving soon. I tucked myself underneath the tree and positioned myself with the perfect vantage point of the chimney. I wasn’t going to miss my one and only chance. I’d probably be dead next year.

Time passed so long that I feared my humans were a part of the naughty list and he was never coming. Just as my disappointment became overwhelming, I heard movement on the roof. I squeaked involuntarily in excitement and hid behind a large present. Footsteps sounded on the roof and stopped directly above the chimney. Dust flew down the chute and piled over the hearth. Looked like the humans didn’t get to their spring cleaning again this year. 

I watched as a pair of black boots poked out from the chimney. Legs followed shortly behind, along with a torso, arms, a large red sack, and then finally a jolly face covered in a white beard and red hat. My ride was here. 

He walked over to the plate of cookies and downed two in a matter of seconds. They weren’t kidding about the guy’s love for milk and cookies. He must have a bottomless pit with an insatiable hunger for him to eat cookies in every household, but I admired his commitment to the job. 

As Santa continued chowing down on his snacks, I made my way over to his sack of toys. I climbed in and shimmied my way down to the bottom past the mass of wrapping paper and bows. I listened as he walked back over and I shrunk down tight as his hands reached in and grabbed the presents on the top of the pile. He dropped the presents off underneath the tree and then I was suddenly lifted off the ground. One minute. He was in and out of there in under one minute. One minute and my life was changed forever. 

I was dropped with a loud thunk and I heard huffs and sniffs and the beating of hooves. Those had to be the flying deer from the story. I made my way up the side of the bag until my nose was just below the opening. I could smell the wind and cookies and… one of the flying deers using the restroom. I heard Santa call out every one of the deers names, which seemed to me an extremely impractical way of starting to fly every time, and then we were in the air and I was flying high above the only place I had ever known. 

“You can come out now.”

I froze in place, hoping to stay hidden in the shadows of the sack.

“It’s alright. I know I collected a hitchhiker back there. I’m sure you’d be more comfortable up front with me.”

I made my way out of the bag, my cover blown. I locked eyes with the jolly old man.

“Ah, there you are.” He patted the seat beside him. “Take a seat. Enjoy the view.”

I squeaked out my thanks because my mother didn’t raise a rude mouse. 

“You’re welcome.”

He laughed as I gave him a shocked and questioning look.

“I’m Santa, kid. I can see and talk with all creatures. Even little stowaway mice.”

He said something unintelligible and the flying deers started to fly faster.

He flashed a large smile at me, his eyes disappearing behind his fat cheeks, “let’s get you that adventure.”

******

Our first stop was a house a few minutes away. I hitched a ride in Santa’s breast pocket and we made our way down the chimney. I was certain he would get stuck but it was as if the chimney grew to fit his size, or he grew to fit the chimney’s size. Either way, I wasn’t a scientist and I had no idea how it worked, only that it did. These humans appreciated choice because they laid out three different types of cookies for Santa on the table. I ate two myself; only for the health of Santa, of course. Not because I wanted to stuff myself full of delicious food and eat more than crumbs. I just did it because I didn’t want him croaking on me when the adventure was just getting started. 

He laid out a few presents under the tree and we were on our way again.

I, um, wasn’t sure what happened during the next few stops as I was gracious enough to guard the sleigh for Santa. With my eyes closed. Underneath a blanket. But, I was up and ready by the time we made it to the largest house I’d ever seen. There were multiple chimney’s to choose from in that house and I could only imagine the decadence of crumbs that were spilled for the mice that lived there. We went down the chimney and Santa made his way to the plate of cookies. That guy could sniff out sugar from a mile away. The cookies looked different though and after one bite, Santa did something I wasn’t sure he was capable of: he spit it out.

“Blegh. Oatmeal.”

He tucked the rest of the cookies into his other pocket, “The reindeer will love these.” Ah, reindeer. I knew they were called something. I personally liked ‘flying deer’, but to each their own. 

He finished by laying out the pile of toys underneath the massive tree. I wasn’t sure why they needed any more presents since the room was practically filled to the brim, but Santa said that every child deserved Christmas magic, no matter what. When I asked about the naughty ones from the story, he gave me a sly smile and said, “I’ll show you what we do for the naughty ones.”

We flew fast and hard to the next house and made our customary entrance down the chimney. Santa pulled out a small tablet and scrolled down until he stopped at two names. It appeared Santa decided to upgrade from the pen and paper. 

“Harry and Jonathon Parsons. Two of the naughtiest ones on my list.” The house was sparsely decorated, the only ode to the season was the tree, with a small bundle of presents underneath, and lights wrapping up the banister of the stairs. In the middle of the living room, was a bundle of blankets and two half-finished bicycles. As I was looking, the bundles of blankets shifted and an arm poked out. I squeaked in fear and shimmied further into Santa’s pockets. 

He laughed. “It’s okay, little guy. They can’t hear us.”

I slowly poked my head back up and watched as the person under the blanket flipped over and began snoring. 

“Only the true believers can see me. Normally, at their age, they’ve long since stopped believing in the magic of Santa.”

He walked over to the unfinished bikes, opened his hand, and blew. A fine dust settled over the bikes and before I could think about how dirt wasn’t exactly a noticeable gift for a naughty kid, the bike parts started to move. They gathered themselves up and flew around until they eventually settled together into two complete bicycles. 

“Every kid deserves Christmas magic. The naughty ones might not get anything extra from Santa, but I’ve retired that whole coal business.”

We continued to fly through the night, the wind blowing through my fur and whiskers and the stars shining down on us. We made our way down the chimneys of small houses, large houses, blue, green, pink houses. Houses with decorations that rivaled the sun and simple ones with a small tree by the window. Each more magical than the last because I got to experience them. My own adventure. In a pocket of a stranger I had just met that night. 

We traversed the world and the reality exceeded my imagination, if that was possible. Each home showcased different cultures, religions, lifestyles, that I never would have seen if I didn’t take the risk and jump into a random sack of toys (please note for the children that I expressly forbid you to jump into a stranger’s bag of toys. I did it because it was Santa but do as I say, not as I do.)

The sun was climbing the horizon when we touched back down on the roof of my home. It had only been one night away, but I got the experience of a lifetime. I couldn’t wait to rub it in cousin Tim’s face. He was always bragging about that time he hitched a ride on the garbage truck and went for a ride down the block.Wait until he hears what I did. 

I climbed down from the sleigh and looked back up at the jolly old man. I squeaked out the most heartfelt thank you I could muster. 

“You’re welcome.” He tipped his hat, called out his reindeer’s names, and I watched as he disappeared into the sunrise. 

******

I made my way down the chimney, careful not to get the sack stuck like the last house. Instead of reaching for the cookies, I looked down towards the tree, wondering if my little stowaway would be waiting for me. 

I saw a twitch of whiskers and then a nose poked out from behind a branch. A little mouse came out and sat by my feet, looking up at me. 

“Hello there! My dad said you would come!”

I bent down and opened my breast pocket as I said, “hop in, kid. Our adventure awaits.”