Santa: Ah, how I love relaxing after Christmas. The old Santa hat thrown onto the floor, stockinged feet up on the coffee table, cookies and coffee for replenishing the old bowl full of jelly. Ahhh.
Jenny (enters room): Wha-! Whoa! Santa, is that really you?!?
Santa: (jollily) Ho ho ho! Why of course it's me! Who else would I be? Clearly, I'm not Raphael!
Jenny (picks up discarded Santa hat): Can I try this on?
Santa: Go for it.
Jenny (tries on hat): Sweet.
Santa: So, how did you like your presents this year?
Jenny (voice muffled inside hat): They were awesome, Santa. I especially liked the microplanes. They shred Parmesan like butter. And Lila went bonkers over her Kong ball.
Santa: Ho ho ho! Who doesn't enjoy a good microplane, I always say! Pass me more of those delicious Pecan Sables, would you?
Jenny: So how come you're here at my house and not back home at the North Pole snuggling up with Mrs. Claus or a reindeer or, I don't know, a couple elves or whatever?
Santa: Well, ho ho ho, now. You see, I always hit the west coast last, of course, and, due to certain prevailing wind currents over the region during this time of year - what with the combination of helical airflow and the retrogression of relative voricity leading to the formation of a particularly nasty advection fog - I am often forced to head back east and take a breather before I can head back up to the old N.P. Don't want to slam the old sled into a seaside cliff or anything. Once the elves radio that the pea soup over Washington state's cleared up, I'll be on my merry way. (Waves a small radio around.)
Santa: Oop! There's Eddie now!
Radio: Bonkers Elf Boy One to Clausman. Repeat, Bonkers Elf Boy One, to Clausman. Do you copy, Clausman?
Santa: Ho ho ho! I copy, Eddie. I'm just hanging out in Tucson, having some delightful cookies and coffee! How's the fog situation?
Radio: Not good, Santa. Looks like you're going to have to stable the reindeer for awhile and hang tight. You doin' okay, Sir? You comfortable? They haven't threatened to turn you over to the authorities this year?
Santa: Ho ho ho, no they certainly haven't, my dear boy!
Radio: Good. You tell them we're watching every move they make. They show any hostility and we'll be down on them like glitter on tinsel. Bonkers Elf Boy One out.
Jenny: I never realized the elves were quite so militant.
Santa: Yes. They can be a little overprotective, I suppose. But they're cute as buttons.
(Thumping noises on rooftop.)
Santa: Ah, yes! The reindeer!
Jenny: Wait, there's reindeer on the roof?
Santa: Well, of course. Where else would they be? Ho ho ho!
Jenny: It's raining out - shouldn't they be under shelter?
Santa: Well, I don't want to impose...but perhaps we might move them to the patio under the ramada? Blitzie is coming down with a cold, I think.
Jenny: By all means, put them under the ramada.
Santa lets loose a curious series of high-pitched whistles, and the clatter on the rooftop increases and then ceases. Jenny looks outside.
Jenny: Shoulda made that ramada bigger, I guess.
Santa: Oh, they'll be fine. Last year, they spent the layover in the pound. Dancer got into an altercation with a pit bull. Sixteen stitches later...
Jenny: Poor Dancer!
Santa: Oh no. I'm talking about the pit bull, of course. Have you seen the antlers on these guys? (Slumps further down into couch cushions.) This is simply marvelous. I adore these spoon cookies.
Jenny: Will you be staying for dinner, Santa?
Santa: (sighs happily and closes eyes) Hopefully.
Santa: Oh, damn. I was just about to settle in for a long winter's nap.
Radio: Bonkers Elf Boy One to Clausman. Clausman, do you copy?
Santa: Of course, I copy, Eddie! Ho ho ho!
Radio: Time to come on back home, Sir. Washington's cleared up.
Santa: Well, now, Eddie, I just got a dinner invitation. And Blitzie's drying off under a ramada for a bit.
Radio: He still nursing that head cold?
Santa: I'm afraid so, Eddie. I'm afraid so.
Jenny: Why don't you invite Eddie down for dinner too? What's he, like your Right-hand Man?
Santa: He's Bonkers Elf Boy One.
Jenny: I thought that was his radio name.
Santa: Naw. That's his title. (holds radio to mouth) Hey, Eddie, you wanna come for dinner too?
Radio: What's for dinner?
Jenny: Leftover Guatemalan Christmas Dinner - pollo barbacoa and Raphael's mama's recipe for rice cooked with milk and corn.
Santa: Pollo barbacoa and Raphael's mama's rice recipe.
Eddie: Muy excellente, Sir. I'll be down as soon as I can.
Santa: Take the Fiat, Eddie. Ho ho ho! (to Jenny) Eddie's Colombian. This is certainly very nice of you. Much nicer than the Diet Coke and bag of Fritos they fed me down at the jail last year.
Jenny: It's the least I can do, Santa. Those really are kickass microplanes.
Santa: Ho ho ho!
Reindeer: (reindeer noises)
Lila: Bark bark!
Raphael: Feliz Navidad and Pollo Campero to all!
Jenny: Happy Holidays!
Radio: Sir? Do you copy? Speedway's closed at I-10. I'm being detoured downtown. Do I take a left or just go straight at Congress? Oh, por Dios. It's a one-way street. This Day-After-Christmas traffic es muy horrible...