Mica stopped to look Jordan’s Buddha sitting on the table. Smoke drifted languidly from the incense beside the figure. Just a few feet away rested a brilliantly decorated Christmas tree. “Do these two things go together?” asked Mica, gesturing from Buddha to Christmas tree. “I mean they belong to two different religions.”
“I see what you’re saying,” said Jordan, slicing some fruitcake. “It still works for me though. I mean, both encourage goodwill and brotherhood to all people.”
“I know,” said Mica. “I just wonder though: would Buddha and Santa ever talk to each other?”
Thousands of miles away Siddartha said, “We’ve known each other for a thousand years. Each year it’s the same.”
“I know, Sid ol’ buddy, but I’m stressed out!” Santa had removed his red coat in the hot tropical sun. His pale skin fast grew pink. “It used to be kids wanted wooden trains. Now my elves work in clean rooms making cell phones!”
“The only constant is change,” noted Siddartha.
“Yeah, yeah. So how did that meditation go?”
Siddartha patted his belly. “Today, we’ll contemplate our navel.”
Santa gazed at his own voluminous paunch. “I don’t have time to think about all of that!”
Written for Sunday Photo Fiction.