Bud Herron
In just five more days, Santa Claus is going to attempt his annual dive down our chimneys.
If your chimney does not empty out into a roomy fireplace — as most don’t these days — he will likely park his sleigh on your lawn or locate curbside parking.
If you live in an apartment building or for some other reason do not have a lawn or parking space along your street, Santa probably will land his sleigh over in Mill Race Park and take the ColumBUS.
Either way, without an adequate fireplace, he will have to pick the lock on one of your doors to enter your house, unless you leave a key under the welcome mat.
Santa doesn’t like having to pick locks.
He is aware that 44.8 percent of the people in Indiana own guns, and recent court decisions around the country have liberalized how afraid a person has to be before legally being able to claim self-defense as a get-out-of-jail-free card for shooting someone.
Mrs. Claus also is concerned for her husband’s safety. She even has considered closing down her fruit-cake bakery in an effort not to offend or anger anyone who finds the cakes repulsive and threatening to their well-being.
To further complicate gift deliveries, recent Facebook posts by Rudolph hint that he may refuse to guide the sleigh to any state where more than 15 percent of the residents have firearms. If that threat becomes reality, and Christmas Eve is foggy, all the Christmas presents will end up in Hawaii, Rhode Island, New Jersey and Massachusetts.
Then there is the continuing debate at the North Pole over whether landing a sleigh in Indiana is a good risk in any case.
With about 45 percent of Bartholomew County residents still not fully vaccinated, Dasher and Dancer are threatening to boycott the trip south altogether. They worry that the 45 percent of unvaccinated residents and the 45 percent carrying guns might NOT be the same people — making as much as 90 percent of the population a frightening threat.
Even worse, Blitzen so far is refusing to be hitched in tandem with Donner as they pull the sleigh. Blitzen — who got his name from his history of getting a bit blitzed on Christmas eggnog toddies — is immunocompromised. In spite of Blitzen’s failing liver, Donner refuses to wear a mask for political reasons and 6 feet of distancing in the traces is impossible.
(Santa has been trying to coax Donner into the mask by pointing out the City of Columbus has named a park after him, but so far he is unrelenting.)
To add another complication, Vixen’s participation in the Christmas Eve flight depends on the outcome of a suit she filed with the North Pole Supreme Court last December, claiming the name Santa gave her is sexual harassment.
Only Comet and Cupid remain enthusiastic about their roles in the annual gift-delivery flight to Bartholomew County. They were legally married two years ago after a whirlwind, 400-year, same-sex courtship and have no major problem with anyone in Columbus now that former Vice President Mike Pence has moved to the Indianapolis area.
But don’t worry. Santa has five days to resolve all of this. Anyone who can train elves to make toys and teach reindeer to fly can figure out a way to drop off your gifts.
So, clean your fireplace or leave your house key under the welcome mat.
And as a courtesy — along with leaving Santa some milk and cookies — get vaccinated, wear your mask and lock your firearms in a sturdy gun safe.
