Once upon a time there was an aspiring children’s author named Bonnie who couldn’t land an agent. She had tried everything, query letters, SCBWI workshops, voodoo ceremonies in the Amazon rainforest, to no avail. One bleak December day, Bonnie brought her six-year old daughter to see Santa Claus at the mall in a suburb of Milwaukee.
After listening to the little girl recite her Christmas list, Saint Nick smiled at Bonnie and said, “And what would you like for Christmas?”
“I’d like an agent, Santa,” Bonnie muttered sarcastically.
On Christmas Day, Bonnie and the rest of her family woke up early and rushed downstairs to unwrap presents.
To their amazement, a giant crate was sitting in front of the fireplace. The crate had a big red bow on top.
Bonnie turned jubilantly to her husband, “Honey, you got me an elliptical trainer!”
“No, I didn’t,” he said.
“Then what’s inside the crate?” Bonnie asked.
“I thought you got me a rowing machine,” her husband replied.
Being ever so resourceful, Bonnie’s daughter grabbed a crowbar and ripped open the crate, revealing a woman in a stylish pantsuit talking on an iPhone.
“Are you one of Santa’s elves?” asked the child.
“No, I’m an agent.” The woman stuffed her phone in her Gucci purse. “I’m supposed to be in Miami right now at my brother’s house eating fruitcake.”
“I’m afraid you’re stuck here,” Bonnie said. “All the airports are shut down due to a blizzard.”
The agent shook her head in dismay.
“What’s Santa like?” the child said.
The agent fixed her hair in the mirror. “I don’t have a very high opinion of Santa right now, little girl.”
Bonnie pulled her husband behind the tree and whispered, “What are we going to do with her?”
“You always wanted an agent,” her husband whispered back.
“I know. But this is bizarre.”
“Show her your novel.”
“Give it to her.”
Bonnie raced upstairs and glided back down with a manuscript in her hands.
The agent sat down on the couch and read the book while relatives arrived for a grand Christmas feast. The agent finished the book as dinner was about to be served.
“Your novel is amazing,” said the agent.
Bonnie dropped the turkey on the shag carpet. She quickly brushed the bird off, set it down in the center of a banquet table and screamed, “Are you serious?”
“I love it,” said the agent.
Halfway through dinner, the agent whispered in Bonnie’s ear, “Who’s that guy sitting at the end of the table? He’s cute.”
“That’s my brother in law,” Bonnie murmured.
“Is he single?” asked the agent.
It was a great day for everyone!