Bob accepted the oversized steaming mug of Irish Coffee Eggnog from Ginger with delight. It’s smooth, rich and creamy goodness permeated Bobs soul and made the tips of his pointed ears curl with delight. As did the adorable Barista, Ginger Snap. He gave her a big smile and moved to one of the tables in the little coffee shop. Carefully placing his oversized mug of deliciousness onto the table, Bob pulled his satchel from his shoulder and placed it on the table. Then, seating himself, he leaned far back in his chair, relishing each sip of the mugs sweet nectar…

“WUMPHHH!” Startled, Bob spilled a small sip of his coffee onto his tie. “Hey Bob!” Bob looked up from his now stained tie to discover the three-foot eight-inch chubby frame of Mike Larson greeting him. With his thick black wavy hair dangling over one eye, Larson continued, “Whatcha doin’?”

Annoyed, Bob answered, “I’m trying to enjoy my morning coffee before the meeting Mike.”

“Oh, sweet! Give me a sec, I’ll be right back.” Larson jumped up, causing the table to wobble, spilling yet another sip of Bob’s coffee, onto the table this time. Leaning across the table, Bob grabbed a few napkins from the rotating carousel dispenser. As Bob wiped up the mess, he felt a little irked at Larson. Mostly for his manners, but also a little bit for his size. It just didn’t seem right that a man with the manners of a pudgy goat should be taller then him. And by two inches at that. Bob was just finishing up when he spotted Larson coming back. This time Bob picked up his coffee high enough to allow Larson to sit.

“Man, that Ginger Snap has it going on All Day!” Larson declared in a very loud whisper as he leaned down and slurped loudly at the fresh cup of Coffee Eggnog. Yup, manners of a pudgy goat, thought Bob.

While Bob savored his morning Irish Coffee Eggnog, Mike reached into Bobs satchel to get one of the reports it was carrying.

“HEY!” Bob yelled, snatching the report from Larson’s chubby fingers.

Larson stared with interest at the title on the glossy light blue report Bob was stuffing back into his satchel. “Expanding Logistics with Todays Growth Market” it read.

“Ooo, are you gonna’ make the presentation to the boss today?” Larson asked with excitement.

Smugly Bob answered, “Maybe.”

Looking around to see if anyone was watching, Larson leaned forward, and half whispered, “That is so exciting! I’m there for you buddy. Anything you need!” Then, in a lower, questioning voice Larson asked, “Is there anything you need?”

Sensing Larson’s desire to be part of todays plans, Bob, with a slight smile, again answered, “Maybe.”

An enormous grin spread across Larson’s face as he leaned back in his chair. The two of them sat in silence as they sipped their morning Coffee Eggnogs. Just smiling. Bobs trance broke from the sound of Larson slurping the last of his Coffee Eggnog.

As if on cue, Ginger moved from behind her counter holding two more warm drinks for Larson and Bob. As Ginger Snap approached, Bob marveled at her tinsel laced blond hair and cherry cheeks that sparkled with glitter. She was exactly three inches shorter then Bob at three foot three inches. Her slender build and perfectly sized ears enhanced her large green eyes, causing a hypnotic effect that was not lost on Bob. She was perfect.

“What shenanigans are the two of you up to this time?” Ginger asked playfully as she placed the mugs on the table before them.

“Bob has got a meeting with the boss today!” Larson blurted out.

“Oooohhh?” Ginger asked.

Bob could feel his face heat up as he blushed. “Uh, yeah.” He said. Ginger looked back at her counter taking care that she had no customers then sat down with them.

“What about?” She asked.

“He’s making a presentation to the boss today!” Larson blurted out… again.

Bob leered at Larson’s tremendous lack of control. Sensing Bobs discomfort, Ginger shoved the mug of warm Coffee Eggnog under Larson’s nose to quiet him down. She turned to Bob and asked with great concern “You’re not going to do what I think you’re going to do, are you? I mean, that’s complete suicide!” She exclaimed. Suddenly aware of her current volume, she continued in a low whisper, “Don’t you remember what happened to Ted? After Teds so called presentation, the boss took him on…” she looked carefully behind her, ensuring no one was eavesdropping, “The Dispatch Flight.” Ginger sipped from the Coffee Eggnog that was once intended for Bob.

“I know about Ted. This is different.” Bob continued in the same low whisper.

“Oh, you know about Ted?” Ginger said challenging. “Did you know a week before The Dispatch Flight, Ted was diagnosed with Elf-fluenza?”

“Uh, no.” Bob answered.

“Did you know that he was so week from the Elf-fluenza that he fell out of the Christmas Tree the night before The Dispatch Flight?” She questioned.

Bob shook his head slowly “No, no I hadn’t heard that”.

Looking Bob squarely, her large green eyes piercing Bobs soul, she asked “And did you know that he landed on his head and was declared grounded for the next 24 hours?”

Still entranced by her gaze, Bob answered “Uh…”

Ginger Snap looked down into her coffee mug briefly, shaking her head slowly, Bob could here her speaking quietly “All of the blood…”

Larson leaned across the table and gave Ginger a weak punch in the arm “Yeah! That was awesome!” Turning to Bob he said with great excitement, “Mr. Parks told me all about it. You see at first, while Ted was loading up the cargo, Mr. Parks saw Ted get a bloody nose. Ted cleaned it up, and it seemed to stop. So, they didn’t think anything of it, you see. Then, when they took off, Ted looked a little pale, but said he was okay.” Larson paused to make sure he had the tables full attention. “But when they reached altitude…” He paused again. “BBBLLLLAAAAHHHH!” Larson yelled, throwing out his hands as he simulated the act of vomiting “Blood everywhere!”

Recoiling from the disgusting display of Larson’s, Ginger and Bob left the table. Walking over to the counter with mugs in hand, Bob handed Ginger his coffee mug and apologized. “Sorry about that. He’s a little crass, but he’s okay.”

Ginger looked at Bob with a smile, “You just be careful. This isn’t the real world you know. Bad Luck will get you every time.”

“Don’t worry about me.” Bob said reassuringly. Putting his hand on her shoulder he said, “I have what’s known as Irish Luck.” Ginger stared back at him puzzled. “Just enough luck to get me out of trouble, but not quite enough to keep from getting into trouble.” Ginger relaxed and smiled at the joke.

“C’mon Larson! We’ve got work to do!” Bob yelled.

The carpeted red stairs stretched the length of the entrance of the conference room. Pictures of the boss with famous world intellects, leaders, and performers adorned the lightly stained pine paneled walls. As Bob and Larson ascended the stairs, Bob noted a very plane black framed picture of the boss giving a young boy a signed New York Giants Baseball, the caption read “December 25^th 1922, Richard Nixon Age 9, shows promise”. Next to it a beautiful red oak framed picture of the boss with a young girl on his lap accepting a Talking Crissy Doll. The caption on it read, “December 25^th 1972, Princess Diana Spencer Age 11, living for the moment”. As they reached the top of the stairs a large frosted glass table presented itself, stretching out to either side. The thick glass was cold and sleek as was the two chrome backed oval chairs facing them. In the center of the table sat a black disk-shaped speakerphone. Bob and Larson exchanged glances as they crested the stairs, escorted by two very intimidating elves with large candy canes.

Approaching the chairs, Bob and Larson took their seats. Bob pulled out the reports from his satchel. Handing a copy to Mike Larson, he set his satchel on the floor next to his chair. Adjusting himself in his chair to maximize comfort, Bob noted additional pictures framed on the wall across from them. To Bobs right a door opened, and a young woman walked into the room. Reaching over the table she quickly snatched up Bobs reports and just as quickly left the room. Bob was nervous before the meeting, but now he was outright scared. Why did she confiscate my work? He wondered. Had he offended someone? Had he offended the boss?

In silence, Bob and Larson exchanged worried glances. The cold smoothness of the table fogged with Bobs hand prints.

The door to their right opened again revealing a dark corridor, however the young woman did not emerge. Bob could here a distant muffled murmur. A sharp rebuke, more murmuring.

Mr. Parks entered the room carefully studying one of Bobs reports. Flipping through the pages deep in concentration. Another young woman emerged from the open door with a large mug of Coffee Eggnog and stood silently as Mr. Parks continued to read. He flipped through the last page, closed Bobs report and traded the Coffee Mug for it. The young woman took the report and left the room, closing the door behind her. Slipping his left hand into his trouser pocket, Mr. Parks sipped from his mug.

Bobs peripheral vision caught movement from Larson’s direction. Turning his head slightly, he saw Mike halfway out of his chair intent on making an exit. Quickly, Bob reached for Larson, but that pudgy little goat was to fast for him. Performing one of the best end-runs Bob’s ever witnessed, Mike Larson moved deftly through and around the intimidating elf and darted out of the room.

“CLANK-WHIZZZZ THUMP!” Came a loud, muffled sound from nowhere. Fear ripped across Bobs face. He could feel the floor, table, and chair vibrate. In shocked astonishment, Bob watched as Mr. Parks continued to sip from his Mug as if nothing was happening. “SNAP-CLANG-ROAR!” The wall in front of them began to drop away slowly as if weightless while the ceiling retracted smoothly away.

“TING!” A cavernous room presented itself to Bob. The walls were of white brick, the smartly polished floor of black marble. The wall to the right displayed an enormous window which overlooked the city while the far wall housed a broad, unlit fireplace. To the left was a generously decorated Fraser Fir, dimly lit with live candles. Finally, in the center of the room, sitting upon a red silk Isfahan rug was the bosses’ throne. Grown from a living oak, it’s branches and trunk gently curved into a comfortable shape of a large chair. Pillows of stuffed nubuck leather adorned the throne adding to its majestic impact.

“Mr. Parks is this the young man?” said a deep, disembodied voice protruding from the speakerphone.

Mr. Parks replied “Yes sir. I’ve reviewed the presentation material and fact checked the numbers. They’re” he paused, “semi- accurate.”

“Oh? How so?” The voice questioned.

Mr. Parks set his Coffee Eggnog down and pulled out his smart phone. “Well, after some research, we found that we can get much of the needed equipment from Army Surplus World.”

“Army Surplus World?” The voice questioned again.

“Yeah,” answered Mr. Parks, “They’re jingle is ‘How do you spell the greatest gear from the greatest country in the world? U.S.G.I.’” he sang. Realizing his audience was not amused, clearing his throat, he continued, “Uh, yes. They, uh, carry new and used genuine U.S. military-issue products at a discount. The research department managed to get a very reasonable quote.”

“Bob” the voice demanded. “Do you expect me to believe that if we follow the steps laid out in your proposal, The Dispatch Flight can be completed with a 11% increase in efficiency with a cost savings of 18%?”

As they say, the silence was deafening.

The question continued to repeat itself in Bobs head, over and over, until Bob realized he needed to react. “Uh, yes. Yes, sir. I-I mean, yes of course sir.” He stammered.

Mr. Parks gestured to Bob silently, attempting to convey to Bob that he needed to expand on his answer.

“Well… Sir,” Bob continued nervously. “Previous ideas of using Dead-Drops and Shipping Companies have always failed. Largely due to flaws in security and delivery timing. However, by using military grade drones and the power of a logistics company with same day shipping, I believe it would work sir.”

“From what I see here, you suggest we use the drones as flying Dead-Drops?”

Bob swallowed hard, “Uh… Yes sir. I believe careful coordination of a properly trained drone airforce can up to the minute Naughty and Nice refills while in flight. This would allow a lighter load and faster travel, plus since only a limited number of homes actually have chimneys, the right type of worldwide logistics company would put the plan over the top.”

“Implementation time frame?” Asked the voice.

Bob answered, “Only two seasons for the drone fleet and three seasons for the logistics company’s sir.”

“Sir,” Mr. Parks interjected, “If you’re considering this, you should be aware that this proposal would need a very special candidate to organize and manage a transition of that magnitude.”

“Yes, Mr. Parks, you are absolutely right.” The voice said.

Off in the distance, the sound of footsteps drew near. Large, slow footsteps. Bobs heart started t pound, when around the corner a giant of a man walked into the large room. He moved toward the conference room which was elevated to his waste.

Mr. Parks stiffened and said, “Hello Mr. Bezos”.

“Hello Mr. Parks.” Jeff Bezos of Amazon said. Turning his attention to Bob, he reached out his enormous hand and continued, “And you must be Bob.” Shaking Bobs hand, he said to Mr. Parks. “Mr. Parks, I think bob is the perfect candidate for this job. He has vision.”

The end.