This is a charming tale written as a bedtime story for the younger set. It's about a very curious boy named Jonathan Gonagin who treks to the North Pole to find out if Santa is real. Santa and the Elves are sick with the Holly Pox. They are too ill to make and deliver toys, but Jonathan finds a cure and Christmas is saved. Here's the beginning:
It was almost Christmas.
All over the world, boys and girls were making lists of what they wanted St. Nick to bring.
Toys, mostly. Toys, toys and more toys. Old fashioned toys, like Raggedy Ann dolls. New-fashioned toys with names that were just letters and numbers, like PC-383 and Z-Box 472. Toys your grandfather could never have imagined. Toys your grandmother had when she was a little girl.
The lists were long. Oh, so very long.
And Santa Claus was worried.
The jolly fat man was sitting at his desk in his office at the North Pole, checking production schedules. But he wasn’t so jolly. He had a worried look on his face.
“Ah, for the Good Old Days,” said Santa. “Why, I remember when dolls didn’t talk and trains were not electric and computers were the elves in accounting who worked with a pencil and paper.”
