The snow was piled three feet high on both sides of the road that led
from Bugstussle’s General Store back to Sidney’s and Kris’ workshop – a five-mile journey that
predominately followed the banks of Clement Moore Creek – a creek which was
predominately covered with a good fifteen-or-so inches of ice this time of
year. Neither the snow, nor the ice, nor the time of year did little to stop
Sidney and Kris from their daily ritual of racing their bicycles into town for
supplies and then back to the shop. Even on those days when they didn’t really
need any supplies, they would make up some story to tell their wives that would
allow them to escape and to let off a little steam, enjoy some fresh air and,
for just those few moments, set their normal work obligations aside.
Sidney Carpenter was employed at the Kris Kringle
Christmas Workshop just outside the city limits of North Pole. Coincidental to
his surname, he was the Chief Carpenter – and partner, albeit only a forty
percent partner. The sixty percent portion belonged to Kris – only because it
was mostly his inheritance that provided the investment capital that purchased
the land and the building that was now the hustle-bustling industry that
manufactured toys for children around the world. But aside from the offset
percentage of the business, Sidney and Kris were equals in every other respect.
They were born just a few hours apart at the same hospital in the center of
North Pole; had the same teachers from Kindergarten through 12th grade
(okay – mainly because there was only one teacher in North Pole for about forty years in a
row!); took the same mail order
college courses majoring in business administration; and, of course, grew up
together riding their bicycles in the snow and along the frozen banks of the
Clement Moore Creek. It was only fitting that on that Wednesday afternoon back
on the 17th of February in 1802, sitting at the lunch counter
of ol’ man Dicken’s Drugstore, those same two young lads, with their
brand-spanking-new college degrees and with pencils and a stack of napkins in
hand, sketched out an entire business plan for a factory that manufactured toys year-round and then devised an amazing
shipping program that would distribute the entire lot to children around the
world – during one single evening. It was an undertaking that no one had ever tackled
before.
Ever since Sidney could remember, he had
a knack for building things. No scrap of wood was ever wasted around him – it
was easily transformed into a toy or some useful object. Because of this knack,
he was the obvious choice for the position of Chief Carpenter. Kris was the one
that had always been good at numbers and organization, so figuring out how much
of what to build and who gets what and where it all goes was left up to him.
Manpower around North Pole wasn’t an issue – not since the short-lived Ice
Factory closed down. We won’t need to go into a lot of detail about that
ill-fated venture other than to say that the guys that sketched THAT idea out
on napkins had some pretty bad lettering skills and all of their 9’s looked
like 4’s and their 8’s were sloppy and easily mistaken for 3’s. So as it turned
out, when they had their factory built, all of the ceilings were hideously low
which forced them to advertise for workers of a slightly smaller stature than
the average North Pole resident. Fortunately these working conditions were
ideal for Elves worldwide who felt lost inside average-sized structures and
they migrated by the trainload to North Pole. Unfortunately they were all
unemployed and drawing welfare within a year after relocating. Fortunately Sidney and Kris were up and running
strong by the summer of 1803 and the Elves were all gainfully employed and once
again singing-while-they-worked twenty hours a day building toy after toy after
toy and preparing for a Christmas Eve delivery.
But the real
genius behind Kris’ and Sidney’s operation was in the Shipping and Distribution
Department. Both had been avid cyclists since they were in their elementary
years of school and they were both on the cyclo-cross and mountain bike race
teams in high school. Because of this, they easily recognized the reliability
and efficiency of the human-powered two-wheeled machine. Realizing that they
would be required to make thousands of deliveries over the course of one night,
speed was obviously going to be crucial. Since there had also been several
non-Elves laid off by the Ice Factory, they were hired and trained to race
bicycles. Sidney devised a gearing system to drastically increase the speed of
their race bikes as well as a harness which would link twenty of them together.
With twenty super-fit cyclists pulling a sleigh full of toys, there should be
no problem making all of the deliveries in one single night.
And for
twenty-two years, there wasn’t.
Friday –
December 23, 1825 – 6:24 pm – a cold, bleak, biting Eve of Christmas Eve (In other words, to get back to the beginning of
our story…)
Sidney and Kris
rounded the last curve alongside Clement Moore Creek – Kris riding low on the
inside to get the edge on Sidney and sprint ahead just in time to make the left
turn at the entrance to the factory. As they raced up the drive and towards the
Sleigh House, they saw Clyde Cratchit standing at the opened door – a
bewildered look on his face and a limp bicycle tube in his hands.
“Couple a-the
derndest things I ever seed,” drawled Clyde as Sidney and Kris rolled on in
through the doors.
“What happened?”
asked Kris.
“Busted valve
stem. Snapped right plum off at the base,” replied Clyde.
As Sidney walked
over to the supply cabinet at the back of the Sleigh House he said, “That
happens now and again Clyde. No big deal – I’ll just grab a spare tube.”
“Well now, Mister
Sidney, that there’s one a-them derndest things I was a-referrin’ to. Ain’t
jest this one tube with the busted valve stem. Outta the forty wheels on the
drive bikes, twenty-nine a-thems got busted valve stems. Snapped right plum off
at the base.”
“HEY!
There aren’t any spare tubes in the
cabinet!”
“That there’d be
the other derndest thing I was a-referrin’ to Mister Sidney.”
Now, changing 29
tubes in less than a day wouldn’t necessarily be labeled as an impossible task
in any way, shape or form. It would definitely help the situation though if
there were at least some spare tubes in the supply cabinet. Chalk that up to
some sort of a major glitch in the min-max levels of their inventory program.
The real kicker in this situation: Vic, the owner of the
North Pole Bike Shop closed at noon earlier in the day so he could catch the
two o’clock train out of town – spending the holidays with his daughter and
grandkids down in Tacoma. Things were looking a fairly deep, dark shade of
gloomy.
---------------------------
Several hours
later, Sidney and Kris were sitting at the kitchen table – pencils in hand and
with a stack of napkins. Trying their best to come up with a plan – but
nothing. Earlier, Mrs. Kringle had cooked a couple of TV dinners and had
prepared a huge pot of coffee. She knew that the guys were in for a long, long
night of brainstorming.
“Anything yet?” questioned Kris.
“Still a blank,”
responded Sidney – elbows on the table with his arms supporting his head – eyes
and forehead sunk deep into the palm of his hands.
Looking at the
clock on the wall, Kris wearily announced, “Man, it’s nearly five AM. I’ve got
to get some sleep. I’m supposed to hit the road in about ten hours.”
“Don’t worry.
I’ll come up with something before you need to leave. Go on to bed – I’ll see
you when you wake up.”
Kris got up, took
his dishes over to the sink then, just before he tossed the plastic dinner tray
in the garbage can, said, “You know one thing that puzzles me?”
“What’s that?”
“Why do they call
these things TV dinners?”
Saturday –
December 24, 1825 – 2:04 pm – a cold, biting, but sun-shiny Christmas Eve
“About danged
time you got your lazy hiney out of bed!” kidded Sidney as Kris staggered down
the stairs into the living room.
Kris, tossing his
bright red coat across the back of the couch, walked toward the kitchen door
and replied, “I couldn’t figure out what to wear. Is there any coffee?”
“Get your coffee
and meet me and Clyde out in the Sleigh House. You’re gonna love this!”
---------------------------
“What the
heck!” cried out Kris as he
entered the Sleigh House – stopping dead in his tracks – eyes fixed on his
sleigh parked just beyond the ear-to-ear grins on the faces of Sidney and
Clyde.
“Whaddya think?”
inquired Sidney.
Kris slowly took
in the entire view of the Sleigh House – from one side to the other. There,
leaning against the left wall, were the twenty bikes with their multitude of
flat tires and all the rigging. As he scanned towards the right, his sleigh –
all loaded down with the evening’s delivery. Continuing to scan to the right
and in front of the sleigh was the new drive train—and of all the unlikely
things – eight reindeer!
“I’m a little
confused,” shuddered Kris. “I mean – I have no doubt that these reindeer can pull my
sleigh but – there’s no way that they can maneuver through the streets as fast
as our twenty bicycle riders.”
To which Clyde
was quick to respond, “Mister Kris, this here be one of the most derndest
things I ever have
seed. THESE HERE BABIES CAN FLY!”
Saturday –
December 24, 1825 – 3:03 pm – a cold… mostly just cold, Christmas Eve
Kris climbed
aboard the toy-laden sleigh and Mrs. Kringle handed him a thermos of coffee.
Sidney and Clyde tightened the straps across the bags of packages on the back
of the sleigh. The Elves and the twenty (soon
to be once again unemployed ) bike
riders lined both sides of the drive just outside the Sleigh House doors. Kris
released the brake, snapped the whip then shot out of the Sleigh House like a
rocket. Just as Kris reached the end of the drive and the sleigh took flight, he
was heard to exclaim...
“THIS HAIR-BRAINED IDEA OF YOURS SURE BETTER WOOOOORRRRRRRKKKK!”
Enjoy the
ride!
