Santa’s sleigh slid silently over the sandy beach of Christmas Island. It had been a long haul over the seas and there were so many good boys and girls in Australia that the sleigh had been ponderously heavy. Once or twice he’d been forced to fly low enough that he was worried the Australian radar would have detected him.
He stopped on the beach to give the Reindeer a bit of a breather. Off in the distance he could see six white boomers, but he shooed them away, We don’t do that that anymore, he thought furiously to himself. But every year they still pester me.
The crashing of the waves against the shore and the gentle thrum of the wind was soothing after such a long trip. He’d have to get moving again soon in order to get all the presents delivered, but for the moment he enjoyed the wind in his beard and stretching his legs. It was late night, and the beach was lit by a half crescent moon, reflecting back at him and the reindeer from the waves.
It was, Santa thought, quite tranquil.
Abruptly, a helicopter roared into view from the south, it’s spotlight flicking like the Eye of Sauron across the landscape, searching for its precious.
“Quickly!” Santa cried at the reindeer, as he put his hat back on and strode to the sleigh, “Get ready for take off!”
But it was too late.
Tranquilizer darts shot with merciless precision from the helicopter. One by one the reindeer collapsed and Santa’s only means of escape had been cut off.
A second chopper came into view and rapidly landed.
Santa roared with fury and bellowed, “Mr Prime Minister, Mr Immigration Minister, you’re both very naughty boys“.
The Prime Minister snorted in derision as he stepped out of the helicopter. Santa noted with some satisfaction that the man had stepped into a fresh cow pat. “Shit happens, Mr PM?” Santa shouted in disgust.
Soldiers shamefacedly stepped forward. They were only doing their duty, they told themselves, as they threw Santa to the ground and roughly patted him down, looking for any official identification papers. When they pulled back, having drawn a blank, the Immigration Minister stepped forward.
“Undocumented!” screamed the Immigration Minister, “Illegal arrival! Take him to Nauru!”
“Hah!” Exclaimed the Prime Minister. “What makes you think you’ll have been processed that quickly?”