Santa Coal (smoke break invite)

Breathless, the black sleigh in tatters, metal blasted to hell with the shell lopsidedly flopped open by multiple blast hits… Sooty Santa slides heavily against the belly of his metallic pal, Brix the Dragon; his dark britches sinking his large frame into the snowdrift which had built up against her disappearing side; snow that won't hold up his dense mass. Betrayed by the fluffy chair, he lays his arms with bloody knuckles, which actually welcome the merciful cold, to rest on the surface, only to see them, too, sinking into the fluff. Sitting with his head poking out of his body’s snowy ditch, he looks over at the mound of gathering snow blanketing Nick’s unconscious mass.

Some of the snow is melting from a steadily erupting geyser of steam beneath it. The rotund white hill is moving steadily up and down. Suddenly the steady pattern of steam halts and begins a new pattern drifting side to side and beginning to rise with a sputter, as Nick thrusts himself up into the air of the night’s blue-white world with a gut busting chuckle. His face looks like it has been to a good boxing match, as indeed, it has. His swollen right eye would be bright pink but already looks purple in the bounced light of night lamps and moonlight sliding between snow clouds. A thin trickle of blood and saliva has found its way from the corner of his mouth down his white waves. “Good grief! You have some left hook!”

Gingerly, Nick reached for his face. A serious fire lighting again in his bitter eyes. “You aren't going anywhere this season!”

Snorting, Santa waved him to come sit down beside him. “Get over here and shut up for a minute. Actually, we take five for a smoke. Agree?”