The Fight on Main Street

This just in:
For weeks now, Santa and the Grinch have been duking it out in a stare-down on Main Street. Purchased at some faceless, nameless, big box store they were duly breathed into and posted directly across from each other. Some nights, they were seen on the drive home nodding at each other in the winter eve. But 24.7 they stood there and eyed each other. Santa, trying to protect his business. the Grinch, trying to protect his ears...and then Christmas itself. Who would win? Some mornings on the way to work Santa would appear very deflated, but come nightfall he would be back to his old self. But one day, maybe last week, the Grinch's hands had rearranged themselves in the wind. They were just a little bit more obstinate, a little bit more determined, and definitely more on the hips. For what seemed like the wait up to Christmas, they stared each other in one final showdown. A collective breath was held. Who would win? The next morning, Santa Claus had collapsed, his red, fuzzy hat lower than his shiny black boots and his round jolly belly nowhere to be seen.