It was a starry night and the snowflakes drifted down gently.
The snowcrust sparkled in the lamplight at the North Pole.
Sleigh bells jingled in the distance. It was supposed to be a
happy time, but it wasn't.

Santa was really pissed off. It was Christmas Eve and NOTHING
was going right. Mrs. Claus had burned all the Christmas
cookies. The elves were bitching about not getting paid for the
overtime they had put in while making toys. And to top it all
off, the reindeer had been drinking all afternoon and were
completely useless. They had taken the sleigh out for a spin
earlier in the day and crashed it into a tree, breaking off one
of the runners. They were still stumbling around outside,
giggling and shaking their sleigh bells. Santa was redder than
usual with anger. He drank another slug of scotch, and then
bellowed, "I CAN'T believe it! I've got to deliver millions of
presents all over the world in just a few hours from now and all
my reindeer are drunk, my elves are on strike and I don't even
have a Christmas tree! AND I sent that stupid little angel out
HOURS ago to find a tree and he isn't even back yet! What the
HELL am I going to do?"

Just at that moment, the little angel opened the front door and
stepped in from the snowy night, dragging a Christmas tree
behind him. He said, "Yo, Santa, where do you want me to stick
the Christmas Tree this year?" And thus the tradition of angels
perched atop the Christmas trees came to pass.