The Trifecta Writing Challenge for this week is to write a story between 33 and 333 words using the third definition of the word heal: 3: to restore to original purity or integrity <healed of sin>
How It Is With Santa
Missy Claus tapped her acrylic nails on the glass tabletop and pouted her freshly plumped lips. Her bleached hair hung in carefully divided tendrils, strategically placed to lessen the severity of a face that was heading into middle age kicking and screaming.
She heard her husband, Nick, coming down the chimney and looked over just as his silly boots landed on the grate.
“Late for what?” Nick asked.
“Our appointment with the Bravo producers? I know you didn’t forget! You just don’t want me being on a reality show! Admit it!”
“Okay, I will admit it!” Nick said firmly while reaching into his toy bag to see if he had any balls left from last night’s world toy distribution. “I don’t want you being on a Housewives reality show! They symbolize the rampant narcissism that is destroying the world!
“Oh, yeah? Well the Easter Bunny doesn’t think so!” Missy Claus picked up her mirror and admired her false eyelashes. “In fact, I just talked to Flopsy, and she said Peter thinks her being a cast member on The Real Housewives of Legendary Characters will be good for business.”
“But they’re not even married!” Nick interjected. “And yet they had 428 kids just last year! What kind of example are they setting for the world?”
“I don’t know. Who cares about the world?” Missy gazed deeply into her mirror and gently tweaked a tendril. “Besides Flopsy told me most of those kids aren’t even Peter’s anyway.”
“What?” Nick took a step back. All the blood drained from his rosy cheeks. “What do you mean most of those kids aren’t Peter’s?”
“For Godsakes! How naive can you be, Nick? Haven’t you ever noticed that some of those kids have red hair and will only eat Lucky Charms?”
The air was cool as Nick’s sleigh flew across the great northern ice sheets. He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply.
Flying always helped to heal his soul.
“On Dancer! On Prancer!”
Until next time . . . I love you