Case of the Missing Kringle

9:45 p.m.

I knew it was going to be another one of those strange days when the call came in over the radio. A missing persons report for a K. Kringle to be exact.

An odd coincidence, this being the night before Christmas and all, that someone would actually have the name "Kringle."

I'm Sgt. Charlie Dickens and being the only detective that was working this holiday...well... I had to take the call.

10:02 p.m.

I arrived at the scene. That's when I saw it; an overturned sleigh in the snow - packages strewn everywhere."C'mon guys! The joke's on me, right? Our missing person is 'Santa Claus'?"

"Hey, this is how we found it, sarge. No one's touched a thing!" one of the uniforms replied.

"If I find out you're prankin me you'll get more than a lump of coal in yer stocking this year, pal!"Suddenly it all became real when I noticed the blood stains in the snow by the sleigh. Santa may not be real but this blood was real enough. OK, time to go to work.

What luck to have snow on Christmas eve! The footprints were much easier to follow. Focusing on the boot prints I tried to ignore all of the hoof marks that ran everywhere.

That's when I found it... an open canister of sour cream and onion Pringles potato chips sitting on the street curb, just a few feet from the overturned sleigh. Though the sleigh and strewn packages were covered with a light dusting of snow, the Pringles can didn't show any signs of exposure to the weather.

"Hey fellas," over here, I shouted. "We need to check this for finger prints."

10:15 p.m.

As we investigated the scene, a crowd began gathering, includling a short, tubby guy with pointy ears who was wearing... candy cane striped tights.

"Ho ho ho" I said." Officer Holiday, see what the fat guy in the green vest and striped tights knows about this 'accident.' I'm going to see where these tracks lead.

"It didn't take a K9 unit to track the prints and the occasional jingle bell all the the to the zoo. “Someone went to a lot of trouble for this hoax,” I mumbled to myself. The door was busted open on Santa's Workshop, where the Friends of Dickerson Park Zoo sponsored photos with Santa Claus and his reindeer every day right up until Christmas Eve.

"Geez, now a break-in. I'm gonna be doing paperwork until New Years at the rate this is going."

"Pssst. Hey flat-foot, over here," a voice spoke around the corner."I saw the whole thing, I tell ya," it continued.

Rounding the turn I come face-to-face with two beadie eyes surrounded by creamy white feathers.

"Geez, a talkin bird? That's all I need right now!"

The bird continued, "I tell ya I saw the whole thing. You got any crackers? Seeds? C'mon copper, give us a donut!""I'm gettin too old for this ..."

11:45 p.m.

As I stared into the white bird's beadie eyes, a flatulent Christmas fairy appeared. Puffing clouds of glitter out its rear, the fairy flapped its dainty wings and said in its tiny fairy voice: "I saw it, too." The fairy blushed as another blast of glitter blew out it's behind - Pooft.

And then, from under the rubble of the vandalized Santa's Workshop, I heard, a faint, "Oh, Oh, Oh."

11:50 p.m.

I didn't really know what to say or do, since I've never actually seen a real-live flying fairy before; at least not since I've been on the wagon.

"You're still a cop, so do your job," I reminded myself. Tracing my glance to where the moanings were coming from I prayed that it wasn't another fairy under that debris. I mean it's hard enough keeping my professionalism and composure while in the company of ONE fairy. I'm not sure that I can if there was a second one.I started reaching down to move a board... and that's when it hit me, the smell...

"Hey, you farted didn't you? Geez don't get any of that cra... I mean, dust on me! And stand... er... hover over there, down wind."

"So that's where pixie dust comes from," I thought aloud to myself.

"Actually it oozes out of our entire bodies, kinda like exhaling. And it's FAIRY dust! I'm no stinkin' pixie, Sherlock! Want to see some more?"

"Hey, git over here and help me move these boards, you little fairy!"

"Roger that," she replied, flying toward the rubble and leaving fairy residue in her wake."Aaa-CHOO!" I sneezed. Guess I'm alergic to fairy dust.

Who knew.

1:10 a.m.

After my sneezing fit ended, a louder "Oh, oh, oh" came from beneath the overturned sleigh and we began working quickly to uncover whoever - or whatever - was buried beneath.

The fairy moved the little stuff, the fat guy in the green vest huffed and puffed as he pulled away the larger boards and the beadie-eyed bird pecked at anything that moved.

I grabbed the edge of the sleigh and with a heave, uprighted it. We all stared at what was beneath. The bird flapped its wings, squawked and flew to the roof of Santa's vandalized workshop.

1:15 a.m.

And what to my blurry eyes should appear but the jolly old elf himself and eight tiny reindeer. "OK my deer, we're out of here. This seasonal story will be continued next year."

The End

Contributing authors: Phillip Secca, Susan Wade, Patsy Bell Hobson

From It was a dark and stormy night... on Facebook at http://budurl.com/darkstormynight.
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