Santa was stuck.
Not in a chimney, but in a terrible, ugly, argyle sweater Mrs. Claus insisted he wear. The itchy wool was stretched so tight across his belly he couldn’t lift his arms to grab the reins.
“Dash away! Dash away!” the reindeer chanted unhelpfully.
With a heroic grunt, Santa sucked in his famous girth. Buttons popped like tiny festive gunfire. One hit Rudolph on the nose.
With a final ping, the sweater exploded. Santa, free in his red suit, bellowed, “Now I remember why I wear velour!”
And they launched into the snowy night, leaving a blizzard of itchy argyle behind.
Stake:Haradog