• Home
  • Brooches
  • Podcasts
  • Stories
  • About The Casket
  • About Joanna
  • Competitions
  • TubeFlash

The Casket of Fictional Delights

Brooches Podcasts Stories

CHOCCO’s Away

by Val Spargo

Short StoryPodcast Amusing, Comical

They were an odd group, the delegates who attended the conference.  Old and awkward, with a puzzling assortment of aides.  They had travelled considerable distances to the isolated hotel, high up in the mountains. One gentleman insisted on stabling his six reindeer in the hotel garage while several had arrived on horseback, one on a pure white steed. All the hotel staff had been carefully vetted and were warned to be especially discreet. The Committee for Harmonisation of Christmas Cultural Operations, CHOCCO, had paid an exorbitant price for the sole use of the hotel and provided its own security guards who were dressed in purple with green epaulettes.

The room was prepared, equipment tested, and the interpreters were in their booths. The chairman of the meeting, Herr Jander, and his four staff members, all dressed in sober grey suits, placed themselves at the head of a rectangular oak polished table the size of an ice rink. The delegates in their flamboyant uniforms searched for their seats.  A gigantic horned monster covered in long hair, clanging its chains and roaring, attempted to get into the room. His way was barred by several of the hefty purple clad security guards. Austria protested, his Krampus must be allowed in the room. Netherlands, an elderly, stately man with a long grey beard, red mitre and bishob’s alb, rose from his seat. He banged his crozier on the ground and shouted his Zwarte Piet had also been barred.  Denmark complained loudly even his little Nisse had been refused entry. The bearded Czech gentleman waved his staff in the air and announced as his retinue of angels and devils had been excluded, it was only fair all their helpers were banned.  Herr Jander reminded everyone the hotel basement had been especially prepared for their aides, with fast wifi, computer games and ample food and drink.

Eventually the delegates were settled and seated.

“Gentlemen, welcome,” Herr Jander flashed his shiny teeth around the gathering.

“‘We are meeting today to harmonise Christmas practices across Europe. Children receiving presents from a variety of different figures on different dates must be discontinued. It is highly confusing for them. Outdated and questionable practices must be curtailed. For example, a white person, blacked up with a curly wig and red lipstick, is totally unacceptable. Shocking in fact. No example to children.”  Herr Jander thumped the table.

The tall, mitred figure from the Netherlands rose to his feet.

“How dare you. We in the Low Countries are the most tolerant of people. Each year, I sail from Spain to Amsterdam my ship laden with presents and my companion Zwarte Piet. He finds out if the children have been good or bad.  He puts the bad ones in his sack and takes them back to Spain until the following year.”

There were cries of outrage, especially from the Scandinavian delegates. Although, one rotund figure was heard to mutter.

“Serves the little buggers right.”

Belgium piped up.

“The children know it’s a joke. Zwarte Pieten are black because they deliver presents down the chimney.  It’s soot. Soot you nincompoops.  They accompany us as we parade through the streets throwing sweets to the children.”

“Presents! Presents! That’s my job.  Don’t you know,” spluttered Great Britain’s Father Christmas, as he staggered to his feet.

“You’re too fat, Rosbif,” said France.  “Go back to sleep.”

“Can we continue please?” said Herr Jander. “We need to decide who is the present-giver at Christmas. St. Nicholas, Santa Claus, Father Christmas, Zwarte Piet, or the Three Kings.  As St. Nicholas was the Bishop of Myra, in Turkey, it seems inappropriate that he has the role of present-giver in Europe.”

Numerous St Nicholas’ rose to their feet protesting the Bishop was the actual originator of gift giving to children at Christmas. He instigated covert present distribution, the original Secret Santa.

“Rubbish.  Poppycock,” shouted Great Britain, a red-faced fellow with tufts of white hair protruding from his red hat.

“The Mid-Winter festival originated long before Christianity and St. Nick. Before Europe even existed. Saturnalia was celebrated in Rome, centuries before bishops strutted around. This became Yuletide in Ancient Britain and it’s personification is ME, the true Father Christmas.”  He then clambered  unsteadily onto his chair, his arms raised in exultation.

“Oh shut up Great Britain,” yelled the entire room in harmonic unison.

The imposing figure of Sfantul Nicolae held up his hand for silence.

“In Romania, the Saint’s Day is separate from Christmas celebrations. What we are being asked to do here is absolute nonsense.  This meeting is a farce.”

“A farce. A farce. A farce,” they all shouted, stamping their feet. The struggling voice of Herr Jander could no longer be heard.

“Gentlemen. We are well prepared,” boomed Netherlands, holding up his phone.

“Phones are not allowed in the conference room.” Herr Janer said, his voice rising an octave.

Within moments all the delegates had their phones out and were speed dialling.   The doors smashed open.  Zwarte Pieten, the angels, devils, little elves and Krampus  had overpowered the guards. Gnome-like Nisse tucked his long beard into his tunic and scrambled under the confusion of legs and arms and jumped onto the table. Herr Jander and his four suited aides were bundled into sacks and carried away. It took only twenty two minutes for all the reindeers, horses, elderly men and their retinue of colourful assistants to leave the hotel.

Above the noise of hooves and sleigh bells, the refrain.  “I said I’d get it done. I said I’d get it done,” was heard across the valley, over and over again.

Herr Jander and his four suited aides  were never seen again.  The Committee for Harmonisation of Christmas Cultural Operations was placed on the ‘back burner’ for another year.

Sometimes on a cloudless night you can see the light of the International Space Station traversing the sky.  If you look carefully, you might just see a faint speck of light being trailed behind.

  •  
  •  
  •  
Hear

You are listening to
CHOCCO’s Away
by Val Spargo

https://thecasket.co.uk/wp-content/uploads/2020/10/CHOCCOs-Away.mp3

Story read by Richard Hodder for The Casket of Fictional Delights.

About Val Spargo

Val says she is easily distracted by life, she has awards for Procrastination which metaphorically sit on her bookshelf with her Cup for First in the Axe River Canoe Race (Female, Over Forties Entrant). Val was an intermittent writer in the past. She is now writing short stories, some of which have been performed in public by members of the Bob Hope Theatre.

You’ve reached the end of this story. Please do explore further. And if you’re feeling generous today, donate to The Casket and help keep the fictional delights flowing. Want to know when more stories arrive? Make sure you sign up for regular updates.

A little tin-rattle

The Casket is a platform for new, fresh and enjoyable short reads. We don’t receive any grants and your generosity helps us provide FREE accessible ad-free content. Any donation is hugely appreciated. If you would like to contribute, donate by PayPal by submitting your name and an amount.

Sending

Leave a Reply Cancel reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.

If you choose to leave a comment on The Casket of Fictional Delights, in addition to the comment you provide we collect a little data, including your IP address, in order to check it isn't spam and to publish the comment. Following approval, your comment text, name and website URL (if provided) are visible to the public. To find out how your data is used, check our Privacy Policy

Everyone at The Casket is hoping 2021 will be a better year than 2020.  We have some great short stories and flash fiction lined up for your delight.  We kick of the year with a story by Lydia Unsworth “The Smallest Boxes” and then for Valentine's we have a story by Dylan Brethour which will also be available as a podcast. Later in the summer we have a new Flash Fiction Summer Collection which will be published online and as podcasts read by Menna Bonsels and Richard Hodder.  We hope you enjoy the stories we have for you and look forward to welcoming you back regularly.

Joanna & The Casket of Fictional Delights Team

 

Help Keep Us Going

Please consider making a donation to The Casket of Fictional Delights.  All content on the website is free and widely available to audiences worldwide.  We do not receive any grants and all our content is Ad free.  The Casket of Fictional Delights specialises in producing high-quality podcasts which are recorded by professional actors/voiceover artists from around the world. We hope you enjoy reading and listening to the stories and finding out about Joanna’s varied brooch collection.

DONATE

Tweetings

  • We have had over 90,000 #podcast downloads of our #shortstories and #flashfiction - THANK YOU to all our loyal listeners https://t.co/cn87VLbkVF https://t.co/d4EwrFrB5L, 20 hours ago
  • RT @emilyaliceblogs: Daisy is 11 months old and has been missing since Sunday 11th April. She has never not come home for her dinner and we’re very worried about her. We live in #harpenden #hertfordshire near Batford Springs. Please keep an eye out for her 💔@MissingPetsGB https://t.co/yAOFxQym8O, Apr 15
  • A cautionary tale for all my 'cat' friends on Twitter espcially @Elizabe29713381 @OutwoodsCat @KevinScampi @TheStourbridge https://t.co/peiEESwVR9, Apr 14
Follow The Casket on Twitter

Sign up for our Newsletter

The Casket of Fictional Delights newsletter delivers the latest story or brooch of the month fresh off the press, and keeps you informed about our competitions and other Casket news periodically.

No spam, ever - and we never use your details for anything but sending your newsletter. You can change your mind at any time by clicking the unsubscribe link in the footer of any email you receive from us.

View our Privacy Policy

  • Stories
  • Authors
  • Podcasts
  • Brooches
  • Birth of a collection
  • About The Casket
  • About Joanna
  • Liu Xiaobo
  • Privacy Policy
  • Contact
  • Donate
  • The Casket on Facebook
  • The Casket on Twitter
  • The Casket on Pinterest

Text & stories © Joanna Sterling 2021
Stories © various authors
Audio by Menna Bonsels
Brooch photography by Mark Colliton
Other photography by Rosie Marks
Maintained by Brighton WebTech