I had been up since 5:00 am working on my 7,600 page proposal to strengthen the economy of the United States when an urgent call came.
Note 1: I am normally up by 5:00 am, this is not abnormal.
Note 2: I know the call was urgent not because of what the person on the other end said, but because every call i receive is urgent because I am that important.
On the other line it was a frantic Ms. Claus. She had informed me that Santa has been diagnosed with a rare strand of the plague that haunted England from 1539-1640. Apparently, the cold temperatures along with the right amount of holiday cheer found in the North Pole serve as an ideal breeding ground for this horrific disease.
Wanting to help, I knew offering my services would be quite a bother to my normal routine. However, like the legendary person I am, I cast aside my wants and needs for the greater good of everyone who celebrates Christmas and turns to Santa for gifts and joy.
I offered to come up and cure Santa of his ailment so that he could finish his tasks at hand. Normally I'd swim up to the North Pole for a nice warm-up routine for my workout. However, I opted for private jet.
Note 3: I did not opt for private jet for time's sake, but rather because I wanted to test out the new jet propulsion system I created a month ago. By air or by swimming the time differential would be indifferent.
When I arrived at the North Pole I was greeted by Ms. Claus. She has looked better. Time has done some work on her, she sort of looks like Carmela did after Tony was shot in Season 6 of the Sopranos.
She took me into see Old Saint Nick where he lay looking rather pathetic. I was hoping the plague made him look so horrid, but I think he just let himself go. Personal appearance should be important to everyone.
As I gazed over Santa on the brink of death, I pulled out a vial from my jacket pocket. The vial contained the cure for the plague, something I cultivated a few years ago and saved for a rainy day. Near the brink of death, I was proud to know I would save Santa from his near death.
Then out of nowhere some kind of polar bear hybrid rushed in through the wall of Santa's bedroom. This was like no other polar bear I have ever seen. Double the size, rabid, aggressive, and most likely pure evil. Ms. Claus informs me it is from the heavy radiation the poles contain. Global warming has caused greater radiation to mutate polar bears in the womb causing these freakish beasts.
Note 4: Work on solution for global warming. Have it done by February.
I tried to reason with the bear. "Easy, fella," I said. This did nothing and the bear took a swipe at my finely styled hair. Using a blend of hair wax, gel, and constant blow drying I had figured how to perfectly style my mane of thick, lustrous hair.
Insulted by the indigence of this bear assaulting me, I rolled up my jacket sleeves and gave the bear one last chance to desist. Sadly, for the bear, he denied my courtesy. So I proceeded to slap the bear across the snout, followed by a quick jab to the main artery of the heart, then as the bear was stunned, I lifted him over my head and removed him from the room.
Note 5: The bear was lighter than expected. Probably around 3,200 lbs., not the 4,000 lbs. I estimated.
Where I threw the bear, I could not tell you. Once he passed over the horizon, I knew he would not come back.
I rushed back into Santa's room and gave him the vial. Sadly, the vial could not work fast enough. I had to maintain Santa's blood pressure so that he would not fall into shock. Quickly, I assembled a haphazard device that kept the heart pumping, while filtering the blood through the body to keep his body responsive to the medicine.
Soon he was recovered and ready to go on his journey.
He told me I was amazing, but I already knew this.
So when you celebrate Christmas, make sure you think of my greatness.