A Priest A Fairy and Santa

The year Santa Claus shrunk himself was a year no one in the North Pole, let alone the world, would ever forget. It all started with a little glitch in the magic. Everyone knows Santa uses magic to fit all those presents into his sleigh. Some believe the magic conjures gifts from thin air, but the real secret is that the magic shrinks the gifts to a size so small, you'd need a microscope to see them.

This year, however, right as Santa made his maiden delivery for the night - things went terribly wrong. Instead of returning the presents to their normal size as they were placed under the tree, the magic shrunk Santa himself. He became smaller than a tiny dot on a piece of paper, a speck of dust dancing in the faint moonlight.

No one knew how or why it happened. Santa, usually a jolly, rotund figure, was now a microscopic version of himself. He tried everything he could think of to reverse the process, but nothing worked. He was far too small to guide the sleigh, let alone deliver presents. With his magic he managed to make it back to the rooftop before panic began to set in.

"Oh, dear, oh, dear!" squeaked the minuscule Santa, his voice utterly inaudible to the naked ear. "What am I to do? Christmas is doomed!"

The usually jovial Santa became grumpy and frustrated. The thought of disappointing children all over the world filled him with dread. In desperation, he started calling out the names of his reindeer, hoping against hope that they would hear him.

"Dasher! Dancer! Prancer! Vixen! Comet! Cupid! Donner! Blitzen!" he squeaked, over and over, at the top of his lungs. Of course, being so small, the noise that came out was a tiny little squeak, a sound no person or animal could ever hear.

But as luck would have it, there was one being who did hear the faint, repeated calls of the reindeer names. It was Glinder, the miniature fairy. Miniature fairies were a little-known type of fairy, able to shrink themselves as small as Santa had become, or grow as large as a banana. They were guardians of the tiny things, listeners to the whispers of the wind, and protectors of the unseen.

Glinder had been flitting about the quiet village, enjoying the hush of Christmas Eve, when she heard the faint squeaks. She recognized the names of Santa's reindeer immediately, and with a flutter of her iridescent wings, she zipped towards the sound.

There, on the snowy rooftop, she saw it – a microscopic Santa Claus, hopping about in distress.

"Santa!" she chirped, her voice like the tinkling of tiny bells. "What has happened?"

Santa, startled, looked up and saw Glinder. "Glinder! Thank goodness it's you! I've shrunk! The magic went haywire! I can't deliver the presents!" he wailed, his voice barely audible even to Glinder's sensitive ears.

Glinder, though surprised, was quick to act. She tried to use her magic to enlarge Santa, but it had no effect. The magic that had shrunk him was too powerful, too erratic.

"Don't worry, Santa," she said, her voice filled with determination. "We'll figure something out. Christmas cannot be cancelled!"

But time was running out. It was well past midnight and in parts of the world it would be dawn soon. They needed a plan, and they needed it fast. Glinder couldn't fly all the way to the North Pole for help; it was too far for her wings, and the clock was ticking.

"We need to recruit help," said Glinder, her tiny brow furrowed in thought. "But who? Almost everyone is asleep, and who would believe they were seeing a fairy, let alone a miniature Santa?"

Then, Glinder had an idea. "Father Mulligan!" she exclaimed. "His Midnight Mass should be ending about now! I remember being amused at the stories he'd tell the children about fairies. The stories wouldn't be anything like what a fairy really was or did, but they were amusing."

Father Mulligan was the kind, old priest of the village church, known for his warm heart and his even warmer Christmas Eve sermons. He was also known for his imaginative tales of fairies, which he told the children during Sunday school.

"It's worth a shot!" Santa squeaked, filled with newfound hope.

Glinder zipped away towards the church, arriving just as Father Mulligan was locking the doors.

"Father Mulligan! Father Mulligan!" she called, her voice like the tinkling of wind chimes.

Father Mulligan stopped, a puzzled look on his face. He thought he heard something, but dismissed it as the wind.

"Father Mulligan!" Glinder insisted, flying right in front of his face.

The priest blinked in astonishment. There, hovering before him, was a tiny, shimmering fairy. For a moment, he thought he was dreaming.

"Am I… am I seeing things?" he stammered.

"No, Father Mulligan," Glinder said, her voice serious. "It's really me, Glinder. And I need your help. It's about Santa Claus."

She quickly explained the situation to the bewildered priest, telling him about Santa's unfortunate shrinking and the looming threat of a Christmas-less world.

Father Mulligan was a bit befuddled by it all, but who was he to question a fairy, especially on Christmas Eve? He had always suspected there was more to the world than met the eye, and this was certainly proof.

"I… I'll do what I can," he said, his voice filled with a mixture of awe and apprehension.

Glinder, relieved, led Father Mulligan to Santa's sleigh. Santa, still microscopic, relayed what Santa was saying as Santa explained the predicament to the priest.

"Father Mulligan," squeaked Santa, "You must drive the sleigh. Glinder will guide you, giving you directions and telling you which presents to deliver. It's the only way to save Christmas!"

Father Mulligan, a man more accustomed to delivering sermons than presents, swallowed nervously. "But… but I've never driven a sleigh before!"

"Just hold the reins tight and follow Glinder's instructions," Santa urged. "You can do it!"

And so, with a silent prayer and a deep breath, Father Mulligan climbed into Santa's sleigh. Glinder perched on his shoulder, her tiny voice guiding him as he steered the reindeer into the night sky.

It was a long and challenging night. Father Mulligan, guided by Glinder and with instructions from the microscopic Santa, delivered presents to houses all over the world. He fumbled with chimneys, struggled with reindeer reins, and nearly got lost a dozen times. But with Glinder's unwavering guidance and his own determination, he persevered.

Glinder directed him with precision, remembering which child had asked for what toy. She could hear Santa’s faint, but clear instructions, and relayed them to Father Mulligan, ensuring the right present reached the right child.

One particularly tricky moment involved a very steep roof and a chimney that was suspiciously blocked. Glinder, with her small size, was able to scout ahead and discovered a family of squirrels had made their home in the chimney. She gently nudged them awake and, politely explained the urgency of the situation. The squirrels, surprisingly understanding (perhaps sensing the magic of Christmas), agreed to temporarily relocate their nest.

Finally, as the first streaks of dawn painted the sky, they delivered the very last present. A collective sigh of relief escaped Father Mulligan and Glinder. Christmas was saved!

As the last present was placed, and the sleigh rested for a moment on the last rooftop, something miraculous happened. With a soft shimmer of light, Santa popped back to his normal size!

"I'm back!" he boomed, his voice full of relief and joy. "The magic must have finally corrected itself!"

He quickly thanked Father Mulligan and Glinder for their incredible help. "You saved Christmas!" he exclaimed, clapping Father Mulligan on the back. "I'll never forget this!"

With a grateful heart, Santa drove Father Mulligan back to his church. As the priest stepped out of the sleigh, Santa gave him a wink.

"Merry Christmas, Father Mulligan," he said. "And thank you, from the bottom of my heart."

Father Mulligan, still slightly dazed, simply smiled. "Merry Christmas, Santa," he replied. "It was… an honor."

Santa then turned to Glinder. "And you, my dear Glinder," he said, "You are a true Christmas hero. Thank you for hearing my calls and for your quick thinking."

Glinder blushed, her tiny face glowing in the morning light. "It was my pleasure, Santa," she replied. "I'm just glad I could help."

And so, the year Santa Claus shrunk himself became a legend, a testament to the power of friendship, quick thinking, and a little bit of Christmas magic. From that day on, Father Mulligan always told his fairy stories with a little more conviction, and Glinder made sure to keep an extra close eye on Santa, just in case the magic went wonky again. And Santa? Well, he never forgot the year a miniature fairy and a kind-hearted priest saved Christmas. He learned that even the smallest of beings can make the biggest difference, especially when the spirit of Christmas is in their hearts.

But the story doesn't quite end there. The grand adventure had taken its toll. Santa, Father Mulligan, and Glinder were exhausted, and the weight of nearly missing Christmas had settled heavy on their shoulders. The adrenaline of the night had worn off, leaving them with a peculiar mix of relief and utter fatigue.

After the grand adventure Santa decided he needed something a little stronger than coco so A Priest, A Fairy, and Santa walk into a bar.

It was a quiet, dimly lit establishment called "The Yuletide Yew," known for its potent eggnog and surprisingly insightful bartender. The bartender, a stout man with a neatly trimmed beard and eyes that had seen too many late nights, glanced up as the unlikely trio entered.

He watched, with growing bewilderment, as Santa Claus, still slightly rumpled from his frantic night, led a Catholic priest and a shimmering fairy to three stools at the counter. He muttered to himself, "This has to be some sort of a joke, but what's the punchline?"

"Evening," Santa boomed, his voice still carrying a hint of the jolly timbre, though edged with weariness. "We'll take three drinks. I need something… strong. Father Mulligan, Glinder, what's your pleasure?"

Father Mulligan, still slightly dazed from flying reindeer and miraculous deliveries, hesitantly asked for a glass of warm milk, though his eyes darted longingly towards the whiskey bottles behind the bar. Glinder, hovering delicately near Santa's ear, requested a thimbleful of dandelion wine.

The bartender, his eyebrows practically reaching his hairline, poured the drinks in silence. He slid them across the polished counter, his gaze lingering on the fairy, who was now examining her reflection in a beer coaster.

"So," the bartender finally said, unable to contain his curiosity any longer. "What brings a priest, Santa Claus, and a fairy into my humble establishment on Christmas morning? Did you three just get off the set of some bizarre holiday movie?"

Santa chuckled, a weary sound. "You wouldn't believe me if I told you," he said, taking a large gulp of his drink. "But let's just say, Christmas nearly got cancelled this year, and these two were the ones who saved it."

He proceeded to recount the unbelievable events of the evening, from the shrinking mishap to Father Mulligan's unexpected sleigh-driving skills. The bartender listened with rapt attention, his initial skepticism slowly melting away to be replaced by a mixture of awe and disbelief.

"Well, I'll be," the bartender finally said, shaking his head. "That's the craziest story I've ever heard. You know what? The next round's on the house. You three deserve it."

As they sipped their drinks, a comfortable silence settled over the group. Father Mulligan, emboldened by the warm milk (and a surreptitious sip of Santa's whiskey when no one was looking), began sharing stories of his most memorable Christmas sermons. Glinder, perched on the edge of the counter, recounted tales of the hidden world of fairies and the magic they wove into the fabric of everyday life.

And Santa, with each sip of his potent cocktail, felt the weight of the world slowly lifting from his shoulders. He looked at his two unlikely companions, a kind-hearted priest and a miniature fairy, and realized that even amidst the chaos and craziness of Christmas, the true spirit of the season – the spirit of friendship, generosity, and unwavering belief – would always prevail.

The bartender, listening to their improbable conversation, smiled. He finally understood the punchline to the joke: it wasn't a joke at all. It was a miracle, a testament to the fact that even in the most unlikely of circumstances, magic could still happen, and that sometimes, the greatest heroes came in the smallest packages. And from that Christmas on, The Yuletide Yew became a local legend, the little bar that hosted Santa, a Priest and a Fairy after they saved Christmas.