December 23, 2022
Arthur tore open the package he had just received to find a brand new set of cat toys. “Bedankt, Sinterklaas!” he said as he happily removed a wind-up toy mouse and started chasing it around the tree. “Ho Ho Ho!” shouted the bearded Sinterklaas as he moved to the next patron of VIMworld.
“Philippe,” said a small voice from a small earpiece hidden by his large red hat. “Get the matching red and blue presents out for Hacky and Hoppiua.
“Got it,” he whispered into the hidden microphone in his heavy jacket. Philippe adjusted his fake beard and handed the red and blue presents out. “01000001 00100000 01010010 01000001 01001101 00100000 01110101 01110000 01100111 01110010 01100001 01100100 01100101” exclaimed Hoppiua excitedly. “01001010 01110101 01110011 01110100 00100000 01101101 01111001 00100000 01110011 01101001 01111010 01100101” added Hacky.
“Right! Hope you enjoy! And Merry Christmas” Philippe looked into his sack of presents and realized it was empty. “Whew. Am I done, St. Reed?”
“Affirmative,” came the voice over the headpiece. “You’ve got an hour to change out of your Santa outfit and get to the ballroom to start the party.”
“Thanks, I need a little break. And it’s Father Christmas to you, not Santa.”
“Whatever,” replied St. Reed. “See you in an hour.”
Philippe removed his hat and beard and breathed a heavy sigh. “Wow, that outfit is hot!” Exhausted, he staggered back to his house to change and get ready for the night’s festivities. Once inside his mansion on the outskirts of VIMworld, he poured himself a small glass of Remy Martin Louis XIII and sat down by the fireplace. “It feels so good to be able to make everyone happy. It truly is better to give than receive.” He took a small sip of the cognac and stared at his Christmas tree. Although beautifully decorated with gold balls and gemstones, sparkling in the light, the space below was bare. “What would I need anyway?” he thought to himself.
Philippe closed his eyes and listened to the old grandfather clock in the hallway tick away. He took another sip and opened his eyes. With nothing but his thoughts to keep him company, time had quickly flown by. Slowly he got up and took off his Father Christmas jacket.
As he folded it and placed it on the back of his chair, a small letter fell out of the pocket. Picking it up, he recognized Lt. Gobbles simplistic handwriting. “To Santa,” it said in a scratchy print. “Ah, Lt. Gobbles. All he wanted was a scarf last year. The poor chap doesn’t have much, but then again, he never asks for much.” Suddenly, Philippe realized that he hadn’t delivered a gift to him this year. “I must have missed this,” he thought as he opened the letter.
“Dear Santa,” Philippe read aloud. “You’ve always given me everything I wanted, but this year, I want a very special present. You see, the Mayor of VIMworld… his name is Philippe… I’m sure you know that. You’re Santa.” Philippe shook his head and laughed, and then continued reading. “He’s always giving presents to everyone and working hard for everybody. And all of us here in VIMworld always talk about giving him a present back, but what do you give a guy who has everything?” Philippe nodded in agreement. “So true.” He turned the letter over and continued reading.
“This year, all I want is for you to make Philippe happy. If there’s one person in VIMworld that deserves joy, it’s him. I don’t need anything more than I have, so please, the only thing I need is to know that Philippe receives as much joy as he gives. Thank you, Santa.”
Philippe took a deep breath and stared into the fire. The sound of the ticking clock mixed with the subtle crackling of the fire. Slowly, he folded up the letter and put it back in the envelope. He stared at the empty space under the tree and then smiled. Gently, he placed the letter under the tree and stepped back. A smile spread slowly across his face. “Thank you, Gobbles. That was the best present I’ve ever gotten.”
Philippe picked up his magic jacket and put it on as he headed to the front door. As he opened the door, he saw a bright red colored box on his front porch. When he picked it up, he could have sworn he heard jingle bells and laughter soaring overhead. “To the man who has everything,” said the tag in a fancy script handwriting. Philippe jumped as the box began to whir and shake. Slowly, it opened up, revealing a glowing egg. As he held the large egg, he could feel something moving inside. Philippe grinned broadly. “What do you give the man who has everything? You give him the gift of companionship.”
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