It was a starry night and the snowflakes drifted down gently. The

snowcrust sparkled in the lamplight at the North Pole. Sleigh bells

jingled in the distance. It was supposed to be a happy time, but it wasn't.



Santa was really pissed off. It was Christmas Eve and NOTHING was going

right. Mrs. Claus had burned all the Christmas cookies. The elves were

complaining about not getting paid for the overtime they had put in while

making toys. And to top it all off, the reindeer had been drinking all

afternoon and were completely useless. They had taken the sleigh out for a

spin earlier in the day and crashed it into a tree, breaking off one of

the runners. They were still stumbling around outside, giggling and

shaking their sleigh bells. Santa was redder than usual with anger. He

drank another slug of scotch, and then bellowed, "I CAN'T believe it! I've

got to deliver millions of presents all over the world in just a few hours

from now and all my reindeer are drunk, my elves are on strike and I don't

even have a Christmas tree! AND I sent that stupid little angel out HOURS

ago to find a tree and he isn't even back yet! What am I supposed to do?"



Just at that moment, the little angel opened the front door and stepped in

from the snowy night, dragging a Christmas tree behind him. He said, "Yo,

Santa, where do you want me to stick the Christmas Tree this year?" And

thus the tradition of angels perched atop the Christmas trees came to pass.