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ledger instead
of my feet. And my bottom was sticking out the other direction. All
this while I was on the tippy top of the stool.
    I jerked up and tried to reverse things. Now
the ledger was sitting on my stomach, which was being pushed
forward from the back. My knees were starting to shake. How was I
ever going to get off that stool in one piece?
    I thought about calling to The Missus for
help. But I knew I couldn’t do that. I’ve always been a take charge
sort of guy. I’d just have to figure out how to get off that stool
by myself.
    Ever so slowly I pushed my right foot toward
the edge of the top step. If I could just step down one little
step, I’d be almost on the floor. I could feel my toes waving in
space. Now if I could get my heel that far without losing my
balance, maybe I’d make it.
    Finally my heel was off the step. My whole
foot was stuck out in the air. Now what was I going to do? How was
I going to get it down to the next step without falling over?
    “What on earth are you up to?” The Missus
shouted at me so hard it blew me right off that step-stool. I
landed with a THUD on my bottom with the ledger open in my lap.
    “Well, I know what YOU’RE up to. You’re
tryin’ to get me killed!” I shouted back. I was mighty riled. How
dare she sneak up on me and scare me off the top of a ladder!
    Then I saw the look on her face. And the
tears in her eyes.
    “Oh, Santa,” she said in a trembly voice.
“I’m so sorry.” She knelt beside me and put her arms around me.
“Are you okay?”
    My heart melted like it always does.
“Course,” I said. “What’s a little tumble to a guy like me?”
    After a few grunts I made it to my feet. The
Missus wiped her tears, blew her nose and went back to the
kitchen.
    Finally I was ready to enter Michael Moss’
Christmas wish into the ledger. Or had his name been Mitchell
Moses. Hmph! I’m getting forgetful these days.
    I leaned over my desk to check my e-mail in
the computer and jumped back in surprise. Miles Martin’s e-mail had
disappeared. There weren’t ANY e-mails on the screen! Even those
little pictures that The Missus called icons weren’t there, either.
But there was something else there that was just plain weird, and I
don’t mind saying so. It was sort of like a video of eight or ten
snowmen having a big time sledding down a hill. Every time one of
them got to the bottom, he’d pull his sled up to the top, and go
down again. What was that video doing where my e-mail was supposed
to be?
    I looked desperately at the key pad. Most of
the keys had letters and numbers printed on them, but some had
words. There was SHIFT and END and HOME. There were also words I
didn’t understand, like BK SP and DEL. But I couldn’t see anything
even close to VIDEO.
    I swallowed hard. A terrible thought was
rising up in my brain like flood water in a basement. My e-mails
were gone. Eaten up by this horrible machine. All nine million,
seven-hundred fifty-three thousand, eight-hundred ninety-one of
them. I wouldn’t forget that number for the rest of my life,
because that meant that there would be nine-million, seven-hundred
fifty-three thousand, eight-hundred ninety-one children who
wouldn’t get toys from Santa Claus this Christmas. I would
disappoint every single one of them.
    I put my head in my hands and sobbed. What
was I going to do?
     

Chapter 3
     
    THE MISSUS SAVES THE DAY
     
    I must have stared at that computer screen
for an hour. Sad little faces paraded through my mind. I could see
all those boys and girls standing in front of their Christmas trees
and finding no presents from Santa. Some of them started to cry. A
few got mad. All of them were sadder than they had ever been in
their lives.
    Was there any way I could contact them before
Christmas? I wondered. I would have to explain that I had lost
their e-mails. And tell them how sorry I am. Then I would have to
ask them to write me a regular letter and send it through the mail.
Snail mail, The