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    Santa v. Afton
    Santa v. Afton
    Santa v. Afton
    Ebook144 pages2 hours

    Santa v. Afton

    By Duane L. Ostler

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    Less than two weeks before Christmas the tiny town of Afton is shocked when every resident is sued by a mysterious 'Mr. Noel.' The nut claims to be Santa Claus and is suing the town for wrongfully 'firing' him from his yearly delivery job, since he can only come to people who believe. The town's initial reaction is anger at both Mr. Noel and his attorney, obscure Afton resident Jack Parsons. But then a strange thing begins to happen. Rational adults who have not believed in Santa since they were children suddenly start to believe again. People start actually being nice to each other! Most wonderful of all, Santa promises to bring North Pole gifts on Christmas morning. But he can only do it if EVERYONE believes by the big day ...

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherDuane L. Ostler
    Release dateNov 20, 2015
    ISBN9781310411007
    Santa v. Afton
    Author

    Duane L. Ostler

    Duane L. Ostler was raised in Southern Idaho, and has lived in Australia, Mexico, Brazil, China, Utah, the big Island of Hawaii, and—most foreign of all—New Jersey. He practiced law for over 10 years and has a PhD in legal history. He and his wife have five children and two cats.

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      Book preview

      Santa v. Afton - Duane L. Ostler

      SANTA v. AFTON

      By Duane L. Ostler

      Copyright 2012 Duane L. Ostler

      All rights reserved. This book may not be reproduced, copied or distributed without the express permission of the author.

      The author was formerly identified in prior versions of this book under the pen name Silas Flint

      This is a work of humorous fiction and is not to be taken seriously. Any resemblance between the characters of this book and a real person is purely coincidental and downright weird.

      Cover art by the author.

      TABLE OF CONTENTS

      CHAPTER ONE

      CHAPTER TWO

      CHAPTER THREE

      CHAPTER FOUR

      CHAPTER FIVE

      CHAPTER SIX

      CHAPTER SEVEN

      CHAPTER EIGHT

      CHAPTER NINE

      CHAPTER TEN

      CHAPTER ELEVEN

      OTHER BOOKS BY THE AUTHOR

      CHAPTER ONE

      ‘Click!’

      —traffic is backed up from Redwood road to the I-215 onramp, so if you're going that way, you might want to pick an alternate route. And now, back to your Christmas holiday favorites on FM 100...

      Jack Parsons stared through the frosty windshield of his Toyota at the line of cars in front of him, heading into the city. As the strains of Winter Wonderland came over his radio, he tapped nervously on his Pepe Le Pew steering wheel cover. He wouldn't be getting to his law office until after 9:00, once again. A few months ago when he still worked for the firm, that would have bothered him a great deal. Now that he had his own office and was in solo practice, he hardly cared. There were bigger things to worry about. Like having work to do once he got to the office.

      A car swerved out of its lane next to Jack and cut in front of him with inches to spare. Jack swore softly. That's the second close call this morning, he said to no one in particular. If only he’d hit me! Then at least I’d have a case to work on at last!

      The tune on the radio switched to ‘Chestnuts Roasting on an Open Fire.’ Jack tapped nervously on his steering wheel again. There wouldn't be any chestnuts or open fires at his house for Christmas this year, unless he got more clients soon. The problem was, Christmas was the one time of year that people were less likely to sue each other (there was too much good will), and Jack knew his chances of finding new clients during the holidays were slim.

      It’s the dog’s fault, said Jack grumpily for the hundredth time, smacking his hand on the dashboard. If Margo hadn’t brought home that darn dog we wouldn’t be in this mess!

      That’s what had started it all. That dog, and the knowledge of how much it would cost to feed and keep him. After all, he was a German Sheppard! Oh, sure, even before the dog, he and Margo had talked many times about his leaving the firm and opening his own office as a solo attorney. But somehow, the purchase of the dog had triggered what hours of speculation and talking with Margo had failed to do. They both knew it was just an excuse, but it had been fun to think they were making the break with the firm in order to afford all the dog food that the firm’s wages wouldn't cover. After all, German Sheppards weren’t timid about eating. At the rates Jack intended to charge, and since he would be able to pocket most of the attorney fees he brought in—rather than receive just a fraction of it like he had while at the firm—he figured he only needed to work three hours a day to make more than what he had been earning at the firm in seven. In theory it had sounded perfect.

      But there’s always a catch, said Jack to himself angrily. Life wouldn’t be life if there wasn’t a catch waiting to jump out at you and ruin all you’re carefully laid plans! And the catch in this case was—how do you get clients?

      Jack rolled into his traditional free parking spot along the shoulder of Mongrel Lane and killed the engine. After making sure the dogs who gave the lane its name were not in sight, he grabbed his briefcase and started walking the 3 blocks to his office. As he drew closer to his building he looked wistfully at the paid parking lots he couldn’t afford to use. He winced as he recalled bragging to Margo that within a year he would be parking a new Ferrari in one of them.

      Yep, muttered Jack gloomily to himself as he walked. It was that darn dog! Then he smiled grimly. At least he didn’t have to worry about the dog and its appetite anymore. Not after it had tried to eat that tennis ball ...

      The building receptionist greeted Jack warmly as he entered the lobby. Many appointments today, Jack? she asked encouragingly. She knew only too well the struggle Jack and many of the other new solo attorneys in the building were having.

      Got a pretty full day, lied Jack, smiling.

      Great! she smiled back, even though she knew it wasn’t true. Say, I got a call from a Mr. Noel, asking to see you at 10:00 a.m. Think you can squeeze him in?

      Could I?! yelled Jack so enthusiastically that a maintenance man working on the elevators turned to stare. I mean, he said hastily, trying to compose himself, Yes, I’m sure I could fit him in. Did he say he’d pay my consultation fee, or mention anything about what kind of case he had?

      I told him about your consult fee, and he said he’d pay, replied the receptionist. As for his case, it sounded like he was fired from his job. Then she turned to take a telephone call.

      It figures, muttered Jack to himself as he got on the elevator and pressed the 5th floor button. The only clients I ever get are people who just lost their job and don’t have the money to pay me.

      Once in his office, Jack dawdled on his computer and tried to drum up some new angle to get clients. Should he join another men's service club? Nope—he was already in five, all of which were full of eager new attorneys looking for clients just like him. He hadn’t gotten a single referral so far from any of them.

      How about visiting a hospital emergency room to find a personal injury victim? Nope—against the attorney ethical rules. Maybe he could stand on a wet street corner to see if anyone slipped? Nope—too cold, and he might slip himself. It was hopeless.

      Jack kept a close eye on the clock as it drew nearer to 10:00 a.m. At least he would have a little money this week, even it was just a $30.00 consult fee. Provided, that is, that Mr. Noel actually showed up and remembered to bring his money.

      Finally, the receptionist’s voice came over Jack’s telephone.

      Mr. Noel is here to see you. I’m sending him right up.

      Thank you, said Jack. He straightened his tie. Looking around his office he couldn’t help feeling it probably looked too clean and organized for a busy attorney. He took some of the legal forms he never used out of his drawer and scattered them across his desk. Then he pulled out some of his books and dropped one on the floor. That was better.

      There was a tap at the door.

      Mr. Parsons? said a husky voice.

      Yes, come in, said Jack.

      Jack's heart sank as Mr. Noel entered the office. He was a scruffy looking old man, with a scraggly, long beard and long white hair. His pants and red shirt were far too baggy for his slender frame, and his black boots were scuffed and worn. He looked like he had just been rejected from a hobo village. It was only too obvious he didn't have a dime on him.

      Out of sheer, reluctant politeness, Jack shook the old man’s hand. Hello, Mr. Noel, he said with a forced smile. I’m Jack Parsons. He paused. The receptionist told you about the $30.00 consult fee, I guess? He had learned with clients like this that it was best to remind them of the fee before spending the half hour consult time.

      Yep, said the old man. Got it right here. He thumped the pocket of his soiled, baggy vest. Jack wondered if he was telling the truth. He paused for a moment, hoping the old man would pull out the money and give it to him, but he didn’t.

      Well, have a seat then, Jack finally said with a sigh, waving toward one of his office chairs. My receptionist told me you were fired from your job. Tell me all about it.

      It was the City of Afton, said the old man as he sat down in one of Jack’s lumpy client chairs. Only then did Jack notice that there was a peculiar twinkle in the old man’s eye that seemed almost familiar. Yet the man’s eyes also seemed hard and cold.

      The City of Afton, repeated Jack. That’s interesting. I live in Afton. I guess you know that it’s not a very big place—only 500 people in the whole town. It’s halfway up the mountain out of Salt Lake City, quiet and secluded. But you know all that, I’m sure if you worked there.

      Well, I sort of worked there, said the old man. I made deliveries. He suddenly removed a huge pipe from one of his inner pockets and with the flick of a finger had it lit. Jack, who was not fond of tobacco smoke, coughed.

      Uh, sorry, but no smoking is allowed in the building, he said politely.

      The old man gave Jack a hard look. Then he suddenly smiled. Sorry about that, he said with a chuckle. He reached over and tapped out the contents of the pipe into Jack’s garbage can.

      Jack looked in alarm into his garbage can, but there were no flames. He looked up at the old man and forced another smile.

      So, um, when did this termination take place? he continued.

      For the last 40 years, responded the old man.

      Jack’s forced smile remained frozen on his face. Forty years, he repeated mechanically. Right. There was an awkward pause. Jack could see this consult was going to the dogs. He might as well tell the old man the reality regarding employment law in Utah, and save himself from wasting half an hour.

      There’s something you should probably know at the outset, Jack said. Utah is an ‘at-will’ state when it comes to employment. That means you can quit a job or be fired by your boss at any time for any reason, or for no reason at all. However, there are a few exceptions to the ‘at-will’ doctrine. If you were discriminated against because of your race or age or gender, you would have a good claim. You might also have a claim if you were fired for refusing to do something illegal, or for missing work time because of jury duty. There aren’t many exceptions like this, and the few there are must be based on a clear public policy. Sometimes you can also have a claim if there was an implied contract—where they told you that you wouldn’t be fired for a specified period of time.

      That’s it! shouted the old man, slapping his knee. "I knew I had a claim! There’s an implied

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