Loads of stuff out there to moan about, debunk and ridicule, but it’s Christmas Eve so I’m going to let it all slide for the moment. I have many submissions to get through but I’ll be taking the whole day off tomorrow, no matter what Scrooge has to say about it. We’re having duck for dinner and I know there’s a bottle of something rather tasty under that tree.
Here, then, is a story for Christmas. Taken from the latest anthology (number 22! Blimey!) which contains some pretty dark Christmas tales – this time, I think mine is the least dark story in the book! Without further ado, I present…
The Anti-Christmas
“Ho ho ho.” Santa placed his hands on his ample belly and roared with laughter. The hands holding the belly were, of course, superfluous. That amount of fat wasn’t likely to be going anywhere.
Tiddles the elf didn’t even crack a smile. He simply stared at the fat idiot who thought he was in charge here and repeated his question.
“What the Hell are you talking about, Santa? And where did you get this crazy idea?”
“It’s in this book.” Santa held up a copy of something called ‘The Great Reset’. “It says that people will be happy owning nothing. My new friend gave me a copy.”
“Okay.” Tiddles pursed his lips, rubbed his nose, scratched his backside, pursed his lips again and when he thought he had the words in order in his mind, he spoke.
“Let’s leave aside the little detail that you have just broken your own record for the most idiotic thing ever to come out of a human mouth, and consider where this idea will lead.”
“Well.” Santa waved the book. “It leads to universal happiness. Why is that a stupid idea?”
“Really?” Tiddles inclined his head. “So you actually think that children will wake up on Christmas morning and find no presents under the tree – or perhaps in a more cruel scenario, some nicely wrapped empty boxes – and they’ll be delighted? Is that what you actually believe?”
Santa’s face crinkled in his best attempt at thought. “Possessions aren’t real happiness,” he said. “That comes from within.”
“This is, of course, true.” Tiddles nodded in agreement. “but this is not how human minds work. Especially the undeveloped child mind. Look at all those billionaires, they think they are happy because they have money. It’s bollocks of course, but they believe it and so the accumulation of ‘things’ whether of real value or not, is what makes humans think they are happy. Take that away with nothing to replace it and what do you have?”
“Um…” Santa’s face crinkled so hard Tiddles feared it might implode.
Tiddles sighed. “You have a people with nothing left to lose. They will soon realise that, not only do they have nothing, but they will never have anything to call their own, ever again. Then you have a war, a big one. Bigger than any war ever seen before. They won’t care what happens to them because they have nothing at all anyway. You will have a global army of Berserkers who just don’t give a shit any more.”
“Hmm.” Santa’s brow furrowed. “Ah, but they will be guided by the new thing. Artificial Intelligence. It will explain everything to them.”
Tiddles’ face drooped. Artificial intelligence. If only this idiot had a mere trace of the real thing, it would make life so much easier.
“Right.” Tiddles got up to leave. “We have only a few days to Christmas and if you’re not going to deliver anything, we have to work out what to do. You are proposing a major change to our entire business model and we elves will have to discuss this.” He headed for the door.
“Ah, it’s not that big a deal.” Santa reached for the whisky bottle. “It’ll be relaxing, you’ll see. You won’t have to work so hard making toys and trying to predict what next big thing the kids will fixate on.” He poured a generous glass.
“You haven’t…” Tiddles left the sentence unfinished. He hasn’t thought this through. More likely he hasn’t thought at all. Tiddles shook his head and closed the door behind him.
Tiddles paused at the door to the workshop. The sounds of hammering, sawing, drilling and the occasional merry whistle filled the air. Tiddles blew a slow breath. Santa’s latest idiotic idea had to be stopped, and soon, or he would have to explain to these elves why they were suddenly out of a job, and stuck at the North Pole. Tiddles licked his lips. There was another matter, too, a very important one.
“George.” Tiddles tapped his friend’s shoulder. “I – what the Hell is that?” He pointed at the toy George was assembling.
“Pretty, isn’t it?” George held up a silver, tubular device with bits sticking out here and there. “It’s a light sabre. From those Star Wars films. Kids love these.” He pressed a button and a beam of red light appeared from one end of the thing. The beam extended roughly three feet into the air and stopped there.
“Is it safe?” Tiddles narrowed his eyes.
“Sure.” George swung the beam around. “As long as you don’t let the beam touch anything.”
Tiddles took a step back. “What happens if you do?”
“Oh, it’ll vapourize anything it touches.” George switched the thing off and placed it next to a row of similar tubes. “We should probably put a warning on the boxes.”
“Probably.” We should certainly put a warning on you. Still, it won’t be the first time I’ve had to remove George’s efforts from the sleigh. Tiddles composed himself. “George. Santa has a new lunatic idea and this is likely to be his worst idea yet. Come on, let’s get some tea and work out a way to stop it.”
“Tea sounds good.” George rose from his seat and followed Tiddles to the canteen.
Distracted by his thoughts, Tiddles did something entirely alien to his nature. He paid for the teas. George subtly replaced his wallet in his pocket and raised an eyebrow.
“I’m guessing this is something serious?” George took his tea and followed Tiddles to a table, well away from the few other elves who were there.
“It’s incredibly serious.” Tiddles stared into his tea. “Santa has a new friend, and that new friend has been putting some diabolical ideas into his head.”
“He’s not planning on appointing a new safety officer, is he? The last one really cramped my working style.”
“Yeah, until he tried your version of exploding candy.” Tiddles forced a half-smile. “It’s not supposed to have real explosives in it, you know.”
George took a sip of tea. “Well I didn’t know that at the time. So what’s Santa’s new idea?”
Tiddles swirled his cup. “He—or rather his new friend—thinks that people will be happy if they have nothing.”
George blinked a few times. This was a concept his mind had never considered. “What do you mean? Nothing at all?”
“Absolutely nothing. They are to rent what they need, and only what they need. They will own nothing at all.” Tiddles stared into George’s eyes. “Which, for us, means there will be no more Christmas presents to make or deliver.”
“What? But… that’s insane. It’s what we do here. It’s all we do. You mean we’ll all be unemployed? What on earth will we do all year?”
“Keep your voice down, George.” Tiddles glanced around. A few of the other elves were looking in their direction. “It’s worse than that. It will mean the end of our little, ah, side business.”
George considered this. “Well, not immediately. We hand them the bill for their presents when they turn thirty, so if we stop giving presents now, we still have twenty-nine more years of collections.”
“No. We don’t.” Tiddles steepled his fingers. “If the presents stop this year, what happens when we hand out bills on Boxing Day?”
“Well, they still owe us for their presents. Their Santa lists were a request for services, it’s all legal and valid.” George paused. “Well, maybe not entirely legal but they did sign the letters so it counts as a contract.”
“You’re missing the point.” Tiddles leaned closer. “What’s our final sales pitch to those who won’t pay?”
“We tell them their children won’t get any more presents until the bill is paid. It never fails…oh!”
Tiddles nodded. “Exactly. If their kids aren’t going to get any more presents anyway, our argument loses all its persuasive power.” He sat back in his chair. “If we don’t stop this lunacy right now, our profitable little sideline is dead in the water.”
“So we lose our side income as well as our jobs.” George shook his head. “What are we going to do?”
Tiddles thought for a moment. “We’re going to need help from the Dark Side.”
George’s jaw dropped. “You mean…?”
“Yes. We’re going to have to talk to Dodgy Pete.” He drank his tea and put the cup down. “Come on. There’s no time to waste.”
Dodgy Pete was nowhere to be seen in the workshop. Tiddles led George to the exit door. “He’ll be in his shack, I expect.”
The shack was near the sleigh barn, close enough for a couple of raids on certain categories of presents that Pete would later sell back to the elves. Mostly booze and chocolates. Tiddles and George trudged through the snow to the little shed. George knocked on the door. After a pause, it opened, just a crack, to reveal Pete’s narrowed eyes and tight-lipped expression.
“We have a deal, Tiddles. I keep quiet about your scams and you keep quiet about mine. So what do you want here?”
“It’s about our scams. They are going to hit a wall and end in a few days if we don’t do something.” Tiddles pushed the door. Pete let it open. Tiddles and George entered.
“What’s going on?” Pete turned on a light to reveal the shack’s interior. Just a few chairs, a table, a single bed and a stove for heat.
George looked around. “I was expecting piles of… you know… stuff.”
“Nah, of course not.” Pete nonchalantly moved a chair over what looked suspiciously like a trap door. “I wouldn’t be involved in anything dodgy.”
George snorted. “Your name is literally Dodgy Pete.”
“Shut up, George.” Tiddles could see this conversation was likely to result in unpleasantness. “Right. Pete. Here’s the problem.” He gave Pete a full explanation of Santa’s latest crazy idea.
Pete shrugged. “I know about his mad friend. He’s a daylight goblin and his ideas are totally insane. Even a dope like Santa can’t fall for them.”
“Apparently he has.” Tiddles said “And he wants the ridiculous nonsense implemented.”
Pete put his hands over his face. “Does he understand what it means? Apart from all our scams disappearing, it means he has an army of elves with no jobs. Nothing to do. No reason to stay here at the North Pole when we could all be back living in the forests.”
Tiddles snorted. “I don’t think this particular Santa understands the instructions for a toaster. We really need an IQ test for the next one. If there is one.” He put his hands on his hips. “We need ideas, and not standard nicey-nicey elf ideas. That’s why we are here.”
Pete took a seat and motioned for Tiddles and George to do the same. “Right,” he said. “This goes against all elfin oaths to serve Santa but I think we’re all far enough out of the mainstream to consider it.” He closed his eyes for a moment. “Make the daft sod experience what he wants.”
“How do you mean?” George leaned forward. “What should we do?”
Pete shrugged. “Sack him. Send him home. He’s been here so long he won’t last a day back in the real world. He’ll be begging for his job back before the first snowflake hits him.”
Tiddles frowned. “How do we sack Santa? I mean, he’s effectively in charge of the whole operation. Or at least, he thinks he is.”
“Use his own logic.” Pete picked up three tin mugs and took them to the stove, where a kettle boiled. “If he’s not going to deliver presents any more, then he has no further purpose here and neither do we. Tell him we’re all going back to the forests and shutting down the entire present making shit. Make sure he understands that it was all his idea.” Pete took the kettle off the stove and laid it to one side, then picked up a bottle and poured a good slug of whisky into each mug. He passed two to Tiddles and George.
Tiddles took a sip. Ah, naturally he keeps the best ones for himself. “Pete, what you’re proposing is unethical and breaks all of our Elf Oath to the original Santa.” He paused and took another sip. “I like it though.”
Pete grinned. “We took an oath to the original Santa. This one is, what, number eight or nine? We took no oath to him.”
George shifted in his chair. “Well, technically, we took an oath to the office of Santa. So it holds, no matter who is in the fat boy seat.”
“Well.” Tiddles placed his mug carefully on the table. “If he’s not going to deliver presents any more, he’s no longer qualified as being Santa. He’s just some guy. So our oath of allegiance is void.”
“Quite so.” Pete drained his whisky and poured himself another. He offered the bottle to the others, who declined.
“So you’re saying we should just walk into Santa’s office and tell him he’s fired?” George wrinkled his nose. “What if he refuses?”
“No.” Pete smiled. “On Christmas Eve, the sleigh is outside time. It can travel the world in the blink of an eye. That’s when you ditch him and that’s when you pick his sorry arse back up.” He steepled his fingers. “Let him ride the sleigh, but one of you has to hide in the back. The first time he gets off, take the sleigh. Leave him behind. Deliver all the presents and then go back for him. Then you ask him if he wants to be Santa or just some homeless dope in a red suit. He’ll experience real time while the sleigh is away. It’ll feel like days to him.”
“Pete,” Tiddles raised his mug, drained it and held it up for a refill. Pete obliged. “Pete, that is absolutely diabolical and I love it. It might smack some sense into the madman’s head at last.”
George grunted.
Tiddles took another sip. “What is it, George?”
“I think we should just replace him.” George paused for a moment. “I mean, he’s given us trouble every Christmas since we brought him here. And now he doesn’t want to work for the only day of the year we expect him to work. We need a better Santa.”
“Sure.” Pete smiled. “The trouble is, every Santa we bring here is in the job for life. We can never send one back or we risk him talking, and blowing our entire operation wide open.”
“I wasn’t talking about sending him back. Just install a new one and let this one drink himself to death.” George took a deep drink, and spluttered. He regained his composure and wiped his eyes. “One of us could do the job.”
Tiddles sniffed. “We have less than forty hours before the sleigh takes off. If presents are delivered by an elf, the children, or at least the few little sods who stay awake, are going to notice. There will be questions. And letters. More complaints.”
“Well.” George swirled his cup. “We need one who can dress up as Santa. How about Chubby Roy? He’s shorter than Santa, sure, but almost as wide. He’d fill the suit enough that the kids won’t notice.”
Tiddles and Dodgy Pete roared with laughter. Pete slapped the table. “Have you ever had a conversation with Chubby Roy?”
“Indeed.” Tiddles held on to his mug with both hands to stop himself shaking. “Oh, I can see it now. Some wide-awake kid catches him putting presents under the tree and Chubby Roy gives it the whole ‘Ho ho ho. Merry bastard Christmas you snot nosed little twat.’ Oh, the letters we’d get.”
“Okay. Point taken.” George took a rather more careful sip of his whisky this time. “But Pete’s plan has the presents delivered by an elf anyway. We really do need one who can at least look something like Santa.”
Both Pete and Tiddles became serious in an instant. Tiddles puffed out his cheeks. “He’s right. Who do we have who could look enough like Santa to fool the world?”
Pete rubbed his chin. “The only one with enough width is Chubby Roy, but we’d have to tape his mouth shut. How about we fill the suit with padding and add a fake beard? That would widen our options.”
“At sleigh speeds, the padding might deform. We’d be sending out Shapeless Santa.” Tiddles stared into his whisky.
“The last resort then, is to fix this Santa and get rid of his current delusion.” George said.
“Yeah, well, that’s not an easy option.” Pete took a deep drink. “Remember how he acted last year with just some booze and a few films?”
Tiddles nodded. “Yes, but to be fair, Pete, that was mostly your fault.”
Pete held up his hands. “Well if we’re going to talk about blame…”
“Never mind. It’s in the past.” Tiddles finished his drink and motioned for George to do the same. “I have an idea. Might be a long shot but it’s really all we have – and if it doesn’t work, we’d better use the sleigh to get back to some decent woodland while it still has its Christmas magic. Otherwise we’ll be stuck here.”
“It had better work.” Pete rose from his seat. “If Santa gets his ‘own nothing and be happy’ lunacy in place, we’re all screwed.”
“Oh, I don’t think he will.” Tiddles winked. “I plan to give him a taste of it, as you suggested. Thanks for the ideas, Pete. Come on George. Let’s go.” He led the way out of Pete’s shack and headed for the workshop.
Once they were clear of Pete’s shack, George spoke. “So are you thinking of using one of Pete’s ideas?”
Tiddles grinned. “Not quite, although he did get my mind working. I’m thinking of using one of yours.” He led the way through the workshop, pausing briefly at George’s bench to pocket one of the shiny silver tubes. Then he hurried on towards Santa’s rooms.
“You’re not planning to vapourize him, I hope?” George struggled to keep up. “I mean, that might be against the rules, you know?”
“Oh no.” Tiddles’ grin widened. “I have something much worse than that in mind.”
At Santa’s door, they paused. Muffled voices came from inside, punctuated by Santa’s ‘Ho ho ho’. It sounded a little slurred. Tiddles knocked once and opened the door.
“Ho ho ho. Come on in.” Santa sat in his armchair with a large whisky in his hand. “We were just discussing the new arrangements for Christmas this year.”
Opposite Santa sat someone not much taller than the elves, wearing what looked like a science fiction jacket with massive lapels. Over the jacket hung a face like a wax mannequin that had been left in the sun too long. This newcomer raised his glass and nodded at the elves, but showed no indication of smiling.
Maybe he can’t smile because his jowls are too heavy. Tiddles turned his attention to Santa. “What new arrangements? I thought we were about to shut the whole Christmas present thing down.”
“Well, my friend Claws here—”
“It’s Klaus, Zanta.” The saggy face opened to admit a sip of whisky.
“Well I was ‘claws’ enough.” Santa shook with mirth to the point where he had to put his glass down. He harrumphed a few times to compose himself. “Anyway. As I was saying, Claws – sorry, Klaus – has come up with a way to get presents to the children without them owning anything. So they’ll own nothing but they’ll still be happy.”
“You’re about to break your own record for the most ridiculous statement ever, aren’t you? For the second time in a single day.” Tiddles picked up a glass and poured himself a large one. “How is this insanity going to work, then?”
“I don’t get it.” George wrinkled his nose. “So are you delivering presents this year or not?”
Tiddles nodded at Santa. “You know the sleigh will leave on time, and you know what happens if you’re not on it, right? You’ll have the mother and father of all migraines until it returns.”
Santa waved his hand. “I’ll be on it. I just won’t be delivering presents. I’ll be handing out rental agreements.”
“What?” Tiddles narrowed his eyes.
“You zee,” Klaus assumed a haughty expression. “Zey vill not own ze toys, but zey vill rent zem. Ven they outgrow ze toys, zey can send zem back and shtop paying.”
“Brilliant, isn’t it?” Santa raised his glass. “No more clutter of old toys filling up everyone’s attics and cupboards. They just rent them while they’re children and when they grow up, they can return them.”
“One little detail you might have overlooked.” Tiddles said quietly. “Children don’t actually have any money.”
“Ze parents vill pay,” Klaus said. “Ozzervise zeir children vill have no presents.”
George nudged Tiddles in the ribs. “This is going to put us out of business,” he whispered.
Tiddles waved him to silence. “It’s not going to work. If the parents have to pay rent on the children’s toys, why won’t they just go to the shops and buy them themselves? And what happens if the toy is broken? Do they have to pay for a replacement?”
“No problem. We can sell them insurance.” Santa smiled.
Tiddles let out a sigh. “So we are going to have to collect annual rent on an ever-increasing number of toys, deal with returns as well as run an insurance business. Have you considered the administrative nightmare you are proposing for us?”
Klaus inspected his fingernails. “Ze parents vill not buy toys in shops. Ve are in ze process of closing down ze retail industry and turning it all into a rental industry. Ve can undercut ze shop prices.”
“And admin will be computerised.” Santa added.
“We are elves,” George said. “We don’t work well with computers.”
“Ah, zen you vill learn, or you vill be replaced.” Klaus inclined his head.
“What?” Tiddles faced him. “Who the Hell put you in charge?”
“You can’t run this operation without elves.” George folded his arms. “All of it runs on elf magic. Without us, you have no toys and most importantly, no sleigh. Oh and you can’t travel the world outside time on Christmas Eve either.”
“That’s right.” Tiddles reached into his pocket and grasped the silver tube. “Without us, this whole game is over. No magic, no flying sleigh, no flying reindeer. And you—” he pointed at Santa, “—you end up homeless, jobless and stuck at the North Pole alone. Because we’ll all go back to the forests.”
Santa licked his lips. “Now wait, lads, let’s not get all worked up. I’m sure we can come to a compromise.”
“I’m afraid zere can be no compromise.” Klaus rose from his seat. “Ve have a plan, you zee, and zere can be no deviation from it.”
“Okay.” Tiddles withdrew the tube and held it up. “Fine. Let’s see how happy you are with nothing. We’ll be taking the sleigh and leaving, and you, Santa, can take the headaches. Best get used to them because when the sleigh doesn’t come back, they’ll be permanent.” He marched over to the drinks cabinet, placed a full bottle on top of it, activated George’s latest toy and vapourized the bottle. “You’re going to be really happy when you have no more whisky.” Tiddles took out another bottle. He held the light sabre over it and stared at Santa. “Well?”
“Oh come on.” Santa’s eyes grew wide. He turned to Klaus. “You have to give them something. There must be a compromise.”
“Nein.” Klaus folded his arms. “If you are shut down, zat vorks for me too. Zen my ozzer rental outlets have less competition.”
Santa ran his sleeve across his forehead. “You know, Klaus, I don’t think we have a deal. This whole Santa thing can’t work without the elves and they aren’t going to go along with it at all.”
Klaus drew himself up to his full height, which wasn’t all that much, and pointed a finger at Santa. “You fail to grasp ze seriousness of zis situation. Ve, ze Day Goblins, are to become Masters of ze Vorld. Zose who resist us vill be eliminated.” He puffed out his chest like a pigeon on heat. “Ve are ze new Gods of zis vorld!”
Tiddles snorted. “If you’re a god, heal this.” With a deft movement, he swung the light sabre and vapourized Klaus’s pointing finger, simultaneously cauterising the wound.
George nodded his approval. Santa’s jaw dropped so far it risked dislocation. Klaus stared at his hand with its missing index finger.
“You… you can’t do that.” Santa stared, wide-eyed, at Tiddles. “You’re an elf. You’re all about magic and kindness and toys for children. You don’t go around mutilating people.”
Tiddles switched off the light sabre. “Day Goblins are not people.” He pocketed the device. “And if you knew anything about elves, you would know what we are capable of. The original Santa did, which is why he made us swear never to harm a human.” Tiddles inclined his head towards Klaus. “He’s not human so he’s fair game.”
“Didn’t you ever wonder why the original Santa took us all here, to the North Pole?” Dodgy Pete spoke from the doorway. “There are so very many remote places, in lovely warm forests, but he chose this place. Didn’t you ever wonder why?”
“Well… it’s tradition. Always has been.” Santa shook his head.
Pete moved into the room. “Well, when we live in forests, we’re a highly territorial species. It’s a dangerous place to live. We don’t like strangers.” He narrowed his eyes at Klaus. “At all.”
“Zo?” Klaus bared his teeth. “Ve do not care about being liked. Ven ve haf total control, you vill all do as you are told.”
“Yeah, well,” George said, “we don’t really get along with doing as we are told. We agree to things if we like the idea, and frankly, we don’t like your idea at all.”
“You see,” Pete leaned forward and patted Santa on the head. “In the forests, most of us would be patrolling our borders and fighting off any potential invaders. Or warring with nearby elf colonies. Here, we have no need to do that. Santa’s proposal gave us all an easy life, playing around making toys and no concerns about borders or invaders. We see an occasional polar bear or arctic fox but they are no threat to us.” He smiled. “It’s actually quite a relaxing life.” His smile dropped. “If we have to give it up and go back to forest fighting, we are really not going to be happy that you caused it.”
Klaus snorted. “Zere vill be no forests. Ve are removing zem, and all who live in zem, using vindmill power as our excuse. Zere vill be nowhere to hide.”
Tiddles took out the light sabre and turned it on. He raised one eyebrow. “You know, Klaus, we are already very unhappy indeed with you. You are an invader in Elf territory, a most unwelcome one at that, and we have taken no oath to avoid harming Day Goblins.” He brushed the tip of the sabre against Klaus’s lapel, which fell to ash. “So if I were you, I’d be keeping very quiet at the moment.”
Santa took a deep drink and stared into his glass. “I’m seeing a side of you boys I’ve never seen before. I mean, I always knew you had some side scams going on, but I never saw you as a full-blown Mafia.”
“That’s because you’re not the original Santa.” Pete took the bottle Tiddles had left on the cabinet, opened it, and took a large swig. “And because you never bothered to read his notes on how this all started.”
“Nor considered how it might end.” George folded his arms. “We took an oath to the original Santa and we considered that it applied to the office of Santa, no matter who sat in the fat—I mean, who sat in the seat you occupy. But if you refuse to fulfil your side of the contract, our oath is null and void. All of it. It’s up to you now, Santa. The choice is yours.”
“Zere is no choice. Ve—” Klaus stopped and blinked at the bar of light that appeared across his eyes.
Santa put his head in his hands. “I don’t know what to do. I’m in charge here and I don’t know what to do.”
Pete laughed. “You have never been in charge here. We let you booze and amuse yourself all year and you have one night of work. The original Santa was in charge, he recruited us, but when he died and we found replacements, we recruited them. And you. We’ve been running the whole place since the original Santa passed away.”
“Vait.” Klaus backed away. Tiddles followed, holding the light sabre near his face. “Vait. You are not in charge, Zanta? Zen who should I have been instructing?”
Tiddles moved the sabre closer to Klaus’s nose. “Perhaps you should have considered asking those of us who would be most affected by your insane ideas.”
“Pah.” Klaus backed away until his legs hit a chair. He fell into the seat, harrumphed and looked up at Tiddles. “Does ze farmer discuss his plans viz ze cattle? Ve are ze superior race.”
“You are just failed goblins.” Pete said. “You were thrown out of the goblin caves, centuries ago, because you can’t see in the dark. Useless in their society. So you rebranded yourselves as Day Goblins and you’ve been making up idiotic schemes to prove your ‘superiority’ ever since. The truth is, you’re so useless your own people don’t want you around.”
Klaus slammed his hands onto the arms of the chair. “Zis is not so. Ve haf transcended ze dark vorld of ze goblins. Ve valk around in ze daylight. Zey cannot do zis.”
“They can, actually.” George sniffed. “There was a tribe of them in a mountain, near the forest we used to live in. They’d be out in daylight sometimes, but they didn’t like it much.”
“I remember that.” Tiddles switched off the light sabre. “The goblins thought that too much sunlight could drive them insane.” He looked pointedly at Klaus. “They seem to have been right.”
“Hm.” Pete said. “I have been hearing some conspiracy theories about blocking out the sun. Know anything about that, Klaus?”
“Vell…” Klaus examined his remaining fingernails.
“Wait, wait, wait.” Santa rose, a little unsteadily, from his chair. “I need to do some catching up here, before Tiddles uses his magic torch thing to vapourise any more of my fine single malts.”
“Vot about my finger?” Klaus waved his hand.
“Shut up, goblin. You know it’ll grow back.” Tiddles turned to Santa. “So what is it you don’t understand?” My bet is, pretty much everything.
“Pretty much everything.” Santa responded. “First of all, are you telling me goblins are real?”
Pete laughed. George groaned.
Tiddles ran his hand across his eyes. “You’ve been talking to one for the last few days. How can you say you didn’t know he was real?”
“Well… I just thought he was a particularly saggy-faced elf. He never told me he was a goblin. Do they all look like that?”
“Only the ones that have been left in the sun too long.” Pete managed to get the words out between laughs.
“You do realize I am zitting right here?” Klaus’s face had turned a rather fetching shade of purple. “You cannot speak of your masters in zis fashion. Zere vill be repercussions.”
George leaned over Klaus. “You know, you really should have listened to the goblins who threw you out. You caused them nothing but problems, but if you had stayed on friendly terms with them, instead of getting all caught up in human money and your stupid control ideas, they would have told you something important. Whatever you do, do not mess with the elves.” He stood straight. “If I were you, I’d shut the hell up before Tiddles uses the toy I made to cauterise your neck after your head comes off. And that won’t grow back.”
Santa’s bushy eyebrows almost covered his eyes. “All I’ve seen you lot do is make toys and run a few harmless scams. You’re hardly a terrorist organisation.”
Tiddles sighed. “If only you had spent the last few years studying the origins of this whole Santa thing instead of boozing, watching films and playing games, you might have developed a bit more respect for us, and for the office you currently hold.” He waved his hand at the dust-covered bookshelves. “It’s all been there, right in front of you, all these years. All of the original Santa’s notes and all our history. You never read a single bloody page.”
“But…” Santa sat back down. “I never saw any indication of any of this kind of attitude. You were just the jolly, and sometimes nagging miserable bugger, elves. You were never so… brutal… before.”
“Our way of life was never under threat before. Well, not in your lifetime.” Pete said. “What this Day Goblin proposes is likely to wreck not only our lives, but all of Elfkind, everywhere.”
“Humans too.” George added. “And we have sworn to bring no harm to humans. So we can’t just sit back and let him do it.”
“Again,” Tiddles pointed at Santa, “this is entirely up to you. It all hangs on what you decide, right now. If we shut down because you want to go with this nutsack-faced moron’s ideas, all our vows become void. We go back to fighting for ourselves and we don’t have to care about you or any other human. You’ll die of either migraine or cold, here, because we’re all going to leave and the sleigh won’t come back. The children get no more presents, whether gifted or leased, but it won’t matter because your walnut-faced friend plans to kill them all anyway.”
“What?” Santa stared at Klaus. “You never mentioned killing anyone. Is this true?”
Klaus shrugged. “Zere are far too many people in ze vorld. Imagine how much easier your job would be of most of zem simply veren’t zere any more.”
“No.” Santa held up both hands. “No, I cannot and will not be a part of this madness. The elves and I are going back to our usual routine. Giving away presents. For free.”
Tiddles and George exchanged a glance. George whispered “Well technically they are free when we give them…”
“Shush, George.” Tiddles turned to Santa. “So the deal is off? You’re kicking out this daft Goblin idea?”
“Absolutely. I’ll be riding the sleigh and delivering presents this year, as always.” He glared at Klaus. “So you can kick this… thing… back out into the snow.”
“You vill regret zis!” Klaus lurched from his seat. “You vill feel ze wrath of ze New Gods.” He pointed at Santa, realised he was pointing a stump, and then pointed with his other hand.
“Get this wrinkled monstrosity out of here.” Santa picked up his glass and took a swig.
“We can’t just throw him out,” Pete said. “He’s made credible threats, some of them directly against us. We don’t know how many friends he has out there either.”
“You’re right.” Tiddles switched his light sabre on. “Come on, goblin. We’re going to ask you some questions in our… oh what’s the word? Ah yes. Interrogation room.”
“Oh, is that the room with all the chains on the walls?” George said. “I’ve often wondered why we had that room. It’s probably going to need dusting, we haven’t used it before.”
“I think dust will be the least of his problems.” Tiddles grinned. “Right. Get moving, goblin. You’re about to find out why your ancestors never attacked us.”
Klaus, surrounded by Tiddles, George and Dodgy Pete, left the room.
Santa stared into his glass. What the hell just happened? It feels like the cat you had for years just turned into a rabid tiger. He realised he could see the bottom of the glass and reached for a refill. His hand paused when his eyes fell upon the shelf of dusty notebooks. His tongue ran across his lips.
Maybe I should read them. They might help me understand who and what the elves really are, and who and what I now am.
Santa snorted, grabbed the bottle and poured a good measure into his glass.
Maybe tomorrow.