Take-off time was ninety-seven minutes away.
Best to forget about the Big Trip, Olive felt, by keeping busy. Maybe Mrs.
Claus wanted some muffins taken to the hospital.
She headed for the bakery.
Lovely smells drifted from it: mincemeat tarts, chocolate cakes, jelly
doughnuts, date squares, brownies, buns, bread, all kinds of muffins and
cookies.
"Hi, Olive. That nose of yours sure works mighty fine," Mrs. Claus said.
"Here's a nice warm raisin and oatmeal cookie just for you."
"No thank you, Mrs. Claus," Olive said.
"I'm not hungry. I just came over
to see if you wanted some muffins taken over to the hospital."
"I'm sorry, we made the muffin delivery this afternoon when you were at the
toy factory."
"Oh."
Mrs. Claus gave Olive a close look. "What's the matter, Olive? Why the
glum looking face?"
Olive pawed at the ground.
"Well - it's nothing. Nothing."
Mrs. Claus fixed Olive's blue bow.
It was crooked.
"Something is bothering
you.
Tell me, Olive, don't be shy with me.
We girls have to stick
together.
What is it?"
"It's nothing, Mrs. Claus.
I'd better go now and see if they need me one
last time at the toy factory."
Olive trotted off.
"You're my favorite reindeer you know.
I'm always around if you need me,"
Mrs. Claus called after her.
At the toy factory Olive's best friend, Boomer, the chubby harness elf, sat
on a crate by the shipping dock.
He munched on a peanut butter sandwich.
"Hi, Olive!" Boomer shouted.
He liked to shout rather than talk.
"Hi, Boomer.
Do they need any more help inside?"
"Not now.
They're just tying up some loose ends.
We're ready."
"Oh." She wasn't needed here either.
"What's eating you, Olive?
Huh?
You look really sad."
"Well, it's just that I'd love to go on the Big Trip," Olive said.
"Hey, come on! You'll make it one day."
"Oh, I don't know about that, Boomer."
"You will. You're fast.
You always win the races on Candy Cane Pond.
And
you're strong too."
"I'm just a nobody.
After all these years I'm still called the other
reindeer."
"Aw, come on!
Mrs. Claus for one doesn't call you that," Boomer said.
"Tell her what you want."
"Mrs. Claus doesn't do the hiring."
"No, but I'm sure she's got some clout with Santa."
"I just talked to Mrs. Claus and I couldn't tell her about - about my dream.
I just couldn't."
"Huh? Why not?"
"Well - I -"
Boomer waved his sandwich in the air.
"Sweet potaters, Olive!
You can't
just wait for something to happen.
And that's what you're doing."
"I know, Boomer, I know."
She wouldn't mention her visit with Santa Claus
or Boomer would get really steamed.
"But I just don't like to be - pushy."
Boomer snorted. "Pushy?
You really tick me off sometimes. You know that?
The squeaky wheel gets the grease.
Things won't come to you. And -"
"And what, Boomer?"
Boomer stared at his sandwich.
"The Big Trip is only eighty-nine minutes
away.
But I have to say you can forget it just like the other ones.
It's
too late."
Olive gulped.
Maybe I should have said something to Mrs. Claus, she
thought.
I'll be staying behind again.
Meanwhile Santa Claus, Number One, and Chip, the computer ace, were going
over a few things in the Planning Room at Mission Control.
They studied a wall map.
Mittens, Santa's orange cat, was on Santa's
shoulders.
He seemed interested in the map too.
"Santa, the numbers aren't good," Chip said.
"We have a record number of
kids this year and we just don't have enough reindeer power."
Santa chuckled. "Chip, you worry too much.
I have a great team, but we can
always add one or two of the spare reindeer."
Mrs. Claus passed by.
She cupped her ear to listen.
"One or two won't do it, Santa, even if we had them," Number One said.
"Dr.
Winters called me just before you arrived.
An odd thing.
The spare
reindeer are in the hospital sick."
Santa gasped. "Oh, dear! All of them at once? That's terrible!"
"And the sleigh is loaded to overflowing," Chip said.
"If we added any more
toys we couldn't lift off.
Lots of toys have to be left behind."
He looked
at his calculator. "The numbers aren't good."
"They certainly aren't, Chip," Santa said.
"Many places must be missed."
Chip pointed at the map with a baseball bat.
"Here, here, and here. And there."
Santa Claus sank into an armchair with his head in his hands.
Mittens
almost fell off his shoulders.
"But we can't let down any children," Santa moaned. "We can't!
You're the
computer expert, Chip.
Think of something. Anything!
We leave in
fifty-six minutes.
There must be something we can do."
Chip threw up his hands.
"There isn't, Santa, and that's a fact."
After she heard this, Mrs. Claus hurried over to the hospital.
In the hospital ward the spare reindeer lay in beds.
With thermometers in
their mouths were Speedy, Jingles, Flash, Igloo, Spinner, Rascal, Bingo, and
Pokey.
Dr. Winters took out the thermometers and read them.
"Hmmm," he said. "I can't see anything the matter with any of you."
He
looked at his watch.
"It's Christmas Eve with forty-three minutes 'til
take-off.
What if Santa needs some of you? Then what?"
"Then that'll be too bad," Pokey stated.
"We're not going back to that
gloomy old stable."
"Not until somebody paints it," said Flash.
"Hah! So that's it," Dr. Winters said.
"Blackmail!"
"That's a mean thing to say," said Bingo.
"But we're not going back to that
stable. So there!"
"Get up! Get up!" Dr. Winters yelled.
"Where's your pride? Where's your
courage? Where's your loyalty?
Get up! Immediately! This is nonsense!
This is - uh, please.
With jam on it.
Well?"
But the reindeer just snuggled in their beds and answered with snores.
They weren't going anywhere.
Mrs. Claus rushed into the ward.
She was alarmed by what she saw.
"What's going on, Doctor?"
Dr. Winters shook his head.
"I never thought I'd hear myself say this, Mrs.
Claus.
Never in a million years.
But what we've got here is a bunch of
fakers who want to sleep all day long in nice comfy beds.
In short, they're
on strike!"
Mrs. Claus thought.
"I think I've got an idea.
It's not a very nice one,
but - "
She whispered into Dr. Winters' ear.
The reindeer squinted at them.
What were they up to?
The doctor held up a needle.
He gave it a squirt.
The reindeer stirred.
"Now this might smart a little, you reindeer, but it's for your own good,"
Dr. Winters said.
The reindeer shot up in bed.
"Don't be scared," Dr. Winters said. "It'll only take a second."
"I feel a lot better, Dr. Winters," Jingles said.
"M-m-me too," Pokey stuttered.
"See you, Dr. Winters," said Igloo, bolting for the door.
"Don't call us, we'll call you," said the rest as they clomped after Igloo.
Mrs. Claus and Dr. Winters split their sides laughing as the reindeer stampeded down
the corridor.
