After reading some of the other entries I don't think my Santa is completely bad, but just imagine what it would be like being married to him...
Favourite Night of the Year
“I know it’s wrong to speak ill of the dead…”
“Oh Mrs Claus, he’s not…?” The doctor interjected, looking up from her notes with some concern showing on her tired face. This was the last appointment before the holidays.
“No just wishful thinking on my part. He really is the most insufferable man this time of year, I keep imagining a Sleigh crash, that ice on the North Pole corner can be really slippery. Or maybe a heart attack, his cholesterol levels go through the roof at Christmas with all that food left out for him that he insists on eating. And don’t get me started on his alcohol consumption. He’ll be back tomorrow with a massive hangover, elasticated Santa suit at full stretch, a few buttons popped off, crumbs in his beard, slumped in front of the fire, it’s not a pretty sight I can tell you.
“He never has any time for me.
“And once he’s slept that off its straight back to work the next day. With that infuriating jolly smile on his face as if the night before never happened.” She wistfully stared out of the window.
“Do you have a family Mrs Claus? Do they share your concerns?”
“We never had our own kids but he’s sort of adopted everyone else's. Keeps a real good eye on them. Writes a list in his diary sat in bed at night “naughty or nice”. There’s nothing like hearing about some of those tearaways to put you right off having your own brood.
“Quite honestly who’d want to bring children into the world these days? And they are so demanding. I want this, I want that, no wonder my husband has to work so hard.”
Mrs Claus let out a huge sigh.
“Well I can always prescribe you some little pills,” said the doctor, “just to get you over this rough patch or I can book you in for another chat same time next year.”
“Just a chat would be good,” she didn’t really have time to wait in the pharmacy with all those sick people to pick up tablets.
Everyone loved Christmas Eve, Mrs Claus was no exception, this was her favourite night of the year, she had the whole bed to herself, nice box of chocolates, bottle of wine and a box set of Huge Grant DVDs to watch with no Santa beside her snoring, farting and nicking all the blankets!
“I’ll see you same time next year. It’s always good to get it off my chest. Merry Christmas doctor!” and with a smile she almost skipped out of the room.