The Fateful Ounce

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Humor  |  House: The Imaginarium


A Flash fiction story inspired by the Imaginarium House December 2017 Picture Prompt 4.


The Fateful Ounce

It was a bit of a problem for consumers. On the one hand there was nothing but a bombardment of healthy eating tips, news about an increase in obesity and all the problems it brought with it; but then there were the adverts, the shop displays that were full of ‘forbidden’ goodies. What to do?

There were very few individuals who would turn their backs and save their money. The festive stock was snapped up, placed in to trolleys, paid for and taken home. Once spread out before them, many began to view their purchases as too much, over the top. Some would be passed on as gifts to people who would be doing their own passing on. That still left too much, though.

There was one person who never had to worry about his weight. One person that would be sure to gobble up everything left out. None other than the fat, jolly fellow, Santa Claus.

He was quite slim when he left on his rounds, his pants held up firmly with braces and belt. But look at the goodies left for him to eat! Usually a mince pie and a cup of milk; but now, heaps of cookies, thick slices of cake, and great big bottles of the fizzy stuff.

It did not take long for the braces to be come unnecessary, and soon Santa was finding himself having to loosen his belt. It didn’t seem right for him not to clean the plates, but when he bent forward to place a gift under a tree and he heard a rip coming from the seat of his pants, he realized he was going to have to make some changes.

For a while, he carefully rationed himself to eating just half of what was left for him. But he still kept getting fatter and was feeling exceedingly uncomfortable. Getting in and out of chimneys was becoming more of a strain and the reindeer were beginning to huff and to puff, and to make rude comments.

There was nothing else for it. He would have to cut down even more. Now he would just take one cookie, eat a quarter of a slice of cake. The calorie-laden drinks would just be sipped and left, firmly re-capped.

It was only a matter of time though. He went down one chimney, ate just a tiny bit more – just enough to add on a tiny fraction of an inch and.......he was stuck!

He wiggled and he wriggled, he pushed and he shoved. It was hard, slow work but eventually he could see the sky as his head popped through the top of the chimney. That was all well and good, but what about the rest of him. He took a breath, inhaled, shrugged his shoulders from side to side and first one then the other came free.

The reindeer were getting impatient, eyeing his bodily contortions with some trepidation. Was Santa having some kind of fit?

The man himself continued to struggle, pushing down hard with his hands, trying to lever himself upwards and out of that chimney pot. And, to be fair, he did make progress, but his belly and behind were just too.....big!

Time was ticking and something had to be done. Whistling to the reindeer, Santa swallowed his remaining pride and told them what he needed them to do. He grabbed hold of the sleigh, holding on very tightly, then gave the order. The reindeer huffed and puffed and panted with effort. Santa became longer and longer, desperately trying to keep his grip firm. Just when he thought he could hang on no longer, there was a loud pop and he was free!

The reindeer looked for a safe place to land so that their master could climb back aboard and retake his seat. It was only while travelling that Santa felt his legs becoming unusually cold. He had been freed from the chimney pot, but he had left his pants behind!

Did he have a spare pair? No, he did not, but he did have a blanket, and this he fashioned into a kind of kilt. It didn’t do much to warm his knees but it did protect his.....modesty. No more chimneys though, he would have to find other methods of gaining entry.

So, if you find a pair of red pants, with white furry cuffs on the bottom, laying in a heap in your fireplace, you can be sure that it was your nibbles, your treats, your ‘Thank You’ to Santa, that added that last fateful ounce.


Submitted: December 24, 2017

© Copyright 2021 hullabaloo22. All rights reserved.

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Comments

Mike S.

Yeah, I can see an extra pound or two might be problematic for him, for sure--a fine tale, Hull!

Sun, December 24th, 2017 8:12pm

Author
Reply

I hoped you'd enjoy my sense of humor in this one, Mike! Thanks for reading.

Sun, December 24th, 2017 12:24pm

Sue Harris

Fun poem Hully. Loved it!

Tue, December 26th, 2017 10:00pm

Author
Reply

Thanks Sue. I quite enjoyed writing this.

Wed, December 27th, 2017 3:45am

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