Chronographia (chro-no-graph’-i-a): Vivid representation of a certain historical or recurring time (such as a season) to create an illusion of reality. A kind of enargia:[the] generic name for a group of figures aiming at vivid, lively description.
Santa had been killed in a hit and run accident as he drunkenly stumbled across the mall parking lot. What was going to happen with a key moment on the way to Christmas? How would kids confirm to possibility of receiving the gifts they had begged their parents for? We were a small town with a small mall. Quickly finding a new Santa became a priority.
The candidates we interviewed were old (all over 70) and mentally impaired—some of them couldn’t figure out how to put on their Santa suits and said “Tee he he” instead of “Ho, Ho, Ho.” What was worse, they were all on Social Security! They couldn’t stop bragging about getting a check each month “for doing nothing.” But the worst problem was they were all undernourished.—they didn’t have the body fat required of a real Santa Claus. We didn’t want to get stuck with a 95 pound Santa wearing a fat man Santa Suit and scaring the hell out of the kids, maybe traumatizing them to where their Christmas wouldcbe destroyed forever.
The trees been decorated, the snow was on the ground, and the gifts had been bought on Amazon. But, without the kids’ consultation with Santa, Christmas was not complete. I was overweight and had snow-white. hair and a snow-white beard. I could “Ho, Ho, Ho” with the best of them.
Then, I saw my neighbor “King Kong” Johnson headed out his front door in a Santa Suit. He was on his way to the mall to save Christmas. Goddamn him! I was going to save Christmas. Me! I had paid $300 for my suit and I didn’t want it to go waste—especially the big patent leather boots and double-wide belt with the giant square buckle! So, I put on my Santa suit and followed King Kong to the mall.
He was 7 feet tall and weighed 300 pounds. I was five-ten and weighed 198. I would be killed in any kind of physical altercation over who would be Santa. We arrived at the mall and headed to the food court where Santa’s throne was located. I looked at King Kong and let out a menacing “Ho, ho, ho.” It was like a tiger’s growl. He laughed at me “Ha, ha, ha” in a mocking version of Ho, Ho, Ho.
Suddenly Mayor Corn stepped between us. He said he was glad to run into us. He had been Christmas shopping at Frederick’s of Hollywood for sleepwear for his sister-in-law. He proposed that we both serve as Santas on alternating days. King Kong smiled and hugged me, lifting me off the floor. After working out some conditions, like the town covering the cost of laundering our Santa suits, 2 free candy canes per shift, and a ten-minute break every hour, we agreed with the Mayor’s proposal.
This turned out to be the best Christmas I had had since my wife left me, my mother died, and my kids were put up for adoption. Ho, Ho, Ho. Merry Christmas!
Definitions courtesy of “Silva Rhetoricae” (rhetoric.byu.edu.
Daily Trope is available in an early edition on Amazon in paperback under the title of The Book of Tropes for $9.95. It is also available in Kindle format for $5.99.
The Daily Trope 