I was up at the Legion Hovel last night and met a guy from Kansas. We don't allow many folks in since most of 'em just want to drink free beer, but since this guy had long ago been a member he was welcomed back in on the "Once a member always a member, except when we think otherwise" principle. He told me this story, and since it came from an ex-Legionaire it has to be true. Remember, some of it he experienced himself and other stuff he learned later.

Everybody know that Sandy Claus lives up at the North Pole. His real name is Alexander Claus and so everyone calls him "Sandy." What most people don't know is that he has an older brother, William, who folks call "Bill."

Now Sandy stands six-three in his stocking feet, and Bill is only four feet four inches. "Boy never grew much," their mother used to say. Anyway, Bill has always wanted to make the Christmas Deliveries, but he knew that his younger brother was, because of his size, the best one to control those eight tiny, but unbroken to harness, reindeer.

Every Christmas Ever Bill would help load the sleigh, harness up Dunder and Blitzen and the rest, and have a big hot buttered rum waiting for his brother when he returned.

Well, it seems that two Christmases back Sandy come down with chest pains. His Mrs. slammed him into the North Pole Elf Clinic faster'n you can say "Jack Robinson" and Sandy was moaning that it was Christmas Eve and the Deliveries had to be made by Sandy Claus! Obviously, it was a world-wide crisis in the making!

Mrs. Claus (whose first name is Fanny Belle) said, "So, let Bill do it. It's about time he did something around here anyway." Sandy just groaned and Bill was off!

The sleigh was loaded and ready to roll and the elves were all "So, who's gonna do it? Our union contract won't let us" when Bill Claus
saunters out of the house, dressed up in that red and white outfit that'd been hangin' in the closet for so long. Yeah, his boots looked a trifle too big, but you need to wear extra socks up there in the sleigh and nobody thought anything of it.

Into the sleigh he jumps, cracks the whip, and with Rudolph's nose flashing like an airplane beacon they were off across the sky!

Things went pretty good at first, but over the flat lands of Kansas Blitzen was spooked by a witch who was late for Hallowe'en and the next thing Bill knew the reindeer, sleigh, bag of toys and all were slammed into a snowdrift outside of the little town of Picklock, just barely missing hitting the Triple X ranch house!

Bill was pretty shook up, and when the rancher and his wife came out to see what had awakened them from their deep winter's sleep he was laying there bootless, bruised, groaning and cussing reindeer and witches impartially.

The rancher brought Bill inside and gave him a tot of whisky while the good ranch wife calmed the reindeer down, mended some of the harness, and in general got the sleigh straightened out.

After about a hour the rancher and Bill Claus stepped out on the porch and it was then that Bill realized that he didn't have boots or shoes. So the rancher lent him a pair that his son (who was away at college) had worn at the age of 10 or so. Cowboy boots, of course.

Bill thanked his hosts profusely, lined up the reindeer, and took off. And ever since the owners of the Triple X talk and sing about their little old shod Santy on the plains.