Uneasy Lies the Cap

By J. D. Casnig

Santa gives Jaywalker a boost.

In the unglamorous course of cleaning the office before putting together our December issue, the Jaywalker crew found a small crumpled note wedged between radiator and wall. The message, on thick, old parchment read: S.C. home: 83° 15' 33" N; 74° 26' 12" W.

It soon became apparent that these were directions of latitude and longitude, which, by a striking coincidence fell conveniently within a few metres of where my car had later broken down and wouldn't start. So, since I was in need of booster cables, I decided to drop by the remote location, where I discovered a homely hovel housed among the rock and ice.

I pulled the knotty hemp rope of the doorbell. Then, after a long pause made chillingly longer by whistling arctic winds, gentle, deliberate footsteps drew nearer, slowly creaking wooden floorboards. The door opened ever so gently, stopping after each fragment of a squeak. A sample of a man's face emerged, backlit dramatically with the changing hues of a colour TV.

"Sorry about the wait...Oprah was on, and it was about obesity, food addiction and guilt." he said, with sideglance and whisper, "If anyone here knew I watched this stuff, I'd never hear the end of it!" He clapped his hands, turning on the porch light - illuminating me inside and out.

There he was! Santa, I mean. I stood there agape, and he akimbo; his besooted red coat, white beard and gleaming skidoo boots standing out from the twilight of the long winter night. The northern lights danced above as if choreographed into the moment. "I know him..." I thought, "...everyone knows him!"

"Unless you're planning on chopping some more firewood, I suggest you get your tail in here!" he bellowed, with signature glinted eyes and hairy, rosen cheeks "I've been spending far too much time on the StairMaster lately, so I'm getting a little behind..."

"You work out...?

...continued

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Jaywalker December 2003

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