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It's the freaking reindeer in the room that no one dares speak about, especially, if my Aunt Jessie, AKA Mrs. Santa Claus, is around. She's such a... never mind. Let's just say that she's a work in progress. Mostly she's just a piece of work. Okay, so what I'm talking about is the man himself, the honorable, the king, the one and only, the MC, the VIP, the chief gift-giver, my uncle once removed by marriage to a distant second cousin who was also once removed, the legendary Uncle Nick, as in Saint Nick, sometimes for some unknown reason, he answers to Kris Kringle, but it's safe to say that the universe knows him as Santa Claus.


Before I go any further, I guess I should introduce myself. Hi, my name is Snow, long story. Actually it's not that long. All you have to do is look outside and you'll see how I got my name. I live in the North Pole, hello! My parents aren't exactly rocket scientists. They're accountants with minus 30-degree imagination. They work for Uncle S's Workshop, which keeps them pretty busy, especially now that we're three days away from the happy holiday. They're dry like sand, nothing as bright and miraculous and unpredictable as Snow ;0. Anyway, I digress.


Seriously, the damage is done and has been for a long time now. But this year, if the North Pole DMV has determined that I am old enough to get my learner's permit to drive a snowmobile, then I'm ready to do my community service and become a responsible teenage citizen of the world. Let it be known, tell the children, their parents, teachers, caregivers and parental equivalents. My mission is simple and I'm not going to let snow blindness get in my way this time. I am going to give Uncle Santa the much-needed, long awaited fashion makeover that's been overdue for, I don't know, maybe four centuries.

Okay, Santa is old, but that's no excuse for not knowing how the fashion landscape has changed since the 17th century. If anything, living as long as he has, without an end in sight, should give him more time to think about his outfit. Let's face it, my uncle only works one day a year. Already that's weird. But to wear the same outfit every Christmas? That, like, breaks every fashion rule ever invented. Granted, much of his work is at night, so not that many people actually see him, but there have been numerous artist renditions that all show him in the same ridiculous getup. More like get out! Don't get me started.

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