Three Scoops is a Blast! by Alex Carrick Read Free Book Online Page B

While Mrs. Claus baked and served gingerbread, along with egg-nog, Heather listened with keen attention to what Santa said. The way he put it, a “perfect storm” of misfortune overwhelmed him.
     
    Santa’s problems started way back in the fall of 2008. The endowment fund that financed all of his activities at the North Pole, from making toys to keeping his employees housed and fed, was destroyed along with many hedge and private equity funds when the stock market collapsed. He tried to save what he could, selling the remainder of his shareholdings and putting the money into U.S. Treasuries. They held up for a while, but then the value of the U.S. dollar plummeted. Santa’s operations were world-wide. This second financial blow was devastating.
     
    Santa’s parcel delivery system was never able to fully recover. Nevertheless, it did limp along for another couple of years. Staff members and livestock kept leaving through attrition, old age and illness and there were no means to replace them. Then came the torpedo that sank the ship. There were new government regulations that finally worked their way through the approvals process. Under other circumstances, Santa would have eagerly endorsed the measures. They set emissions standards to clean up the environment.
     
    The threat of a carbon tax had been hanging in the air for some time. Santa’s North Pole was sitting on a thermal coal deposit. That’s why he was always able to hand out lumps of coal to children who were not very good during the previous 12 months. Fuel for his production line and all of his heating needs came from an unacceptably dirty source.
     
    The carbon tax was the drain on his funds that broke his back. Furthermore, on this issue, he stood firmly on the wrong side. He was never going to be able to win over the hearts and minds of the general population to let him continue operating in the same old manner. Talk about a public relations nightmare. Besides, he no longer possessed the money to hire lawyers to fight on his behalf. He knew he was licked. He and Mrs. Claus packed it in and moved to Toronto.
     
    For a while, Santa was able to get by on his reputation. After all, he did have expertise in certain areas. He knew about chimneys, for example. He could scamper in and out of them in the twinkle of an eye and, therefore, he spent a few good years working as a steeplejack. But Santa wasn’t a teenager anymore, the work was strenuous and, to be honest, it was boring.
     
    Then he tried his hand at running a comic book store. The problem was he lacked the right amount of business acumen. He kept giving away his merchandise. One would think Santa might have a problem coping with new technology. That was never the case, however. He had always been a quick study when it came to advanced scientific methods.
     
    He was one of the first private-sector non-combatants to understand the “stealth” system developed by the U.S. military. That’s how he had been able to keep the location of his northern property a secret for so long. It also accounted for his ability to navigate his sleigh across the night skies while maintaining such a strong safety record versus other flying objects.
     
    No matter what Santa did to keep busy, however, he was always wracked by thoughts of how he let so many people down. He imagined looks of reproach and disapproval all around him. It became impossible to bear. He and Mrs. Claus took their lead from many other Canadian snowbirds. They decided to relocate to Florida and start over again under assumed names.
     
    In their new home, they made many friends and their lives were comfortable. But there was always a residue of guilt and regret to haunt him. Maybe now was the right moment to tell the whole story. With the passage of time, the weight of public opinion might have lifted.
     
    Santa and his missus agreed to be interviewed at the local TV station. The program aired the night before Christmas. He had been right