Run Run

Wittgenstein and Saint Nicholas arrived at the editors' office at exactly the same time. The door was open but there was no one inside. They went in and sat down.

A box of gingerbread men lay open on the desk with a note saying Back in a Minute, Please Help Yourself.

Well, said Saint Nicholas, I suppose we should help ourselves.

I suppose, said Wittgenstein, we should introduce ourselves first. I am Wittgenstein.

No need for that, said Saint Nicholas. I know who you are.

Fine, said Wittgenstein testily. But who are you?

I am Saint Nicholas , said Saint Nicholas.

Wittegenstein looked somewhat put out.

A saint, he said.

Yes, said Saint Nicholas, You may have heard of me. I am the patron saint of children, sailors, bankers, pawnbrokers, orphans, travellers, judges, victims of judicial mistakes, perfumers, thieves and murderers.

Thieves and murderers! exclaimed Wittgenstein. How do you help thieves and murderers?

With bicycles, said Saint Nicholas.

Humph! snorted Wittgenstein. Are you here to discuss bicycles?

Yes, said Saint Nicholas. I'm to write a Christmassy story for the bumper Christmas edition of Velosophy. I know a lot about bicycles.

So do I, said Wittgenstein. Listen! Did you hear something?

No, said Saint Nicholas. What?

A tiny voice, saying something like run! run!

Didn't hear it, said Saint Nicholas.

It's coming from the box, said Wittgenstein.

They turned towards the box.