A Very Skunky Christmas

Of the Christmas seasons I've experienced one of the many that stand out in my mind is the December of my tenth year. That season, Skunky Wilson, my childhood friend and partner in mischief, and I became entangled in a big catastrophe that the folks in our little town of Booger Hollow still talk about today.

One particular December morning, Skunky invited me to accompany him and his pet mouse Felix to our local supermarket. The supermarket had been advertising that Santa would be in the parking lot, and the local kids were invited to bring their pets and have their pictures taken with Santa.

"Why not?" I said, and off we went.

Shortly, we arrived at our destination and took our place in line. Within a few minutes, a little girl, who was struggling to control her hyperactive Siamese cat, joined the ranks behind us. After a long, nervous hour of concealing Felix from that cat, it was Skunky's turn to sit with Santa.

Just as the photographer was about to snap the picture, Skunky hollered, "Wait!" He then stuck greasy hand into his coat pocket, pulled out Felix, and promptly sat him on Santa's leg.

The next thing we knew, a loud, high-pitched screech extruded from the rambunctious Siamese cat. As it leaped from the arms of its master and raced toward the mouse, Felix instinctively headed for cover. . . right up Santa's sleeve.

Unfortunately for St. Nick, the cat was evidently one of the world's best mousers. He saw exactly where Mighty Mouse had gone and did his level best to catch him, scraping layers of skin off Santa's arm in the process.

As the chase went on inside of his suit, Santa jumped out of his chair, performing moves that would make a contortionist jealous, and screamed, "Something's got a hold on me!" For a second, we thought Santa was trying to lead us in a religious revival. Oh how wrong we were.

The chase continued. Across Saint Nick's shoulders and down his back, around his stomach and up his chest they ran, peeling layers of skin with every movement of their paws.

Soon, the dogs waiting in line managed to break free from their masters and pounced upon Santa, barking and pawing at him as they chased the cat who chased the mouse. You can believe me when I tell you it was not a pretty sight.

By now, Santa had taken all the animal chasing and skin scraping that he could, and in an effort to free himself from the half-crazed animals, he began tearing off his suit. It was just about that moment when the owners of the attacking pets decided they needed to get control of their animals. They descended upon St. Nick like a swarm of killer bees, and bedlam continued as the wad of people and animals rolled and tumbled across the parking lot, yelling, grabbing, clawing, and just plain pummeling each other.

We were not long into this mess when a passerby saw the commotion and called the authorities. Well, upon receiving a call that there was a full riot in progress at the supermarket, the town's volunteer fire department arrived and, with the use of their recently purchased water cannon, brought the commotion to a quick and soggy halt.

Eventually, Skunky and I convinced the authorities that we didn't purposely start the mayhem, and, upon promising to never visit Santa at that store again, they allowed us to return home. No problem. You see, ever since then I break out in hives anytime I see "the man in red."