Story Time, Part 2

Hiya kids. Welcome back to Uncle Bloggy's Story Yurt. Today: the exciting conclusion to our special Christmas story.

When last we spoke, one of you kids was about to get Uncle Bloggy a beer. Yeah, you by the fridge. Thanks. Now then, back to our story. Diarmuid the elf had just called Irish Fest president Ed Follis with the terrible news. Santa's reindeer had all been laid low with the swine flu and Santa's annual Christmas Eve trip around the world was just hours away. But Diarmuid had an idea. He laid it out for Ed, who nodded in agreement. "We're on it, Mr. Elf, sir. You tell Santa that we at the Kansas City Irish Fest will do our level best to save Christmas for all the good little children of the world!!!" I'm pretty sure he said something along those lines anyway. I'd gone to the bathroom right after Ed's cell phone rang so I didn't actually hear the conversation. But Ed talks like that sometimes.

So the next thing I know, out the door Ed and I go, fast as bunnies to the Irish Fest headquarters building. A quick stop there, then off to the airport where the Irish Fest corporate jet was waiting on the runway. "To the North Pole!" shouted Ed. "And step on it! We haven't a moment to spare!!!"

Man, these exciting stories make old Uncle Bloggy thirsty. Help a brother out, will you, fridge kid?

Now, where were we? Oh yeah, Ed and I are on Fest One, The Irish Fest executive jet and we're rushing like egg nog through an elf to Santa's secret workshop. The sun is nearly setting as we land at the pole. Would we be able to help Santa? Would we be able to save Christmas? Would you please shut your nog hole so I can finish the story? We found Santa pacing nervously through the snow, Diarmuid the elf standing along side. We quickly unloaded our cargo and headed to the stables. Moments later, Santa was airborne with his sack of goodies and Ed and I were being hailed as heroes, with statues of us being built in the town square and newborn elf babies being named after us. Christmas was saved! Hooray!

The End.

What? That's the story. Go home. Oh, you want to know how we did it? Well see, Diarmuid the elf is an old friend of mine and early on in the summer I'd let him in on a little secret. As Irish Fest has grown, our festival cows have been asked to work harder and harder to get the word out. So hard that in 2008, the poor girl nearly collapsed completely under the strain. So when I went looking for the 2009 cow, I made a change. The 2009 cow was not a real cow at all, but a highly advanced ROBOT COW! Whoa! Didn't see that story twist coming, did you? Come on, show of hands. Who thought I'd pull out the robot cow? Liar, you did not. But it's true. A robot cow! And, get this, just for fun I had the scientists who built her give her a feature that proved critically important: the big shamrock spots on her side were designed to flip up and act as wings! That, along with secret jet engines in the cow's...well, in the back of the cow...gave Santa all the power he needed to get to your house and bring you that stupid remote control hamster that all you kids have lost your freaking minds over this year.

Oh, I also had the scientists install a death ray in the robot cow's eyes, but I haven't had to deploy it yet. But I could. So you better watch out.

The end. Now get out of here, kids. Uncle Bloggy needs to settle in for a long winter's nap. Right after a long winter's pizza and a long winter's 6 pack. Ho ho ho.

Happy Christmas, kids.