Father Christmas (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
father_chris) wrote2013-12-13 10:56 pm
father_chris) wrote2013-12-13 10:56 pm
Ministry of Elf
The book scribbled
In the Christmas Anomalies department, the more complex Christmas wishes were assembled by a crack team. Most often they dealt with the ambiguous; the lost letters of the past, the confused letters of the future, the confusing delivery address and the even more confusing present.
In one corner, there were four elves poring over a particularly difficult stack of work. Klubb scratched his head in puzzlement, and broke the silence to read one out.
"'Dear Santa I wood like the thing that goes dance boogie doo doo doo I have been very good love Toby'"
"Furby." Feeyeetyn said, without looking up from her own puzzle.
"Most definitely." Sparre agreed, putting her letter in a box. "My brother built a thousand of those this year."
The fourth elf, Azarrde, merely grunted with irritation as she picked up the book. This one was the worst; timelines from all over the universe, not even in their area, and names and presents to assign. She glanced towards the window at the snow, then picked up the next name from the box.
Rae Seddon
Azarrde pulls up the file, and peers at it for a moment. Blah blah blah, cake, blah, the nuisance of it all having to be done one at a time! Far too much to search through for a year's record. Her frustration breaks, she suddenly smiles.
She takes up a needle, and with lightning quick speed, fashions a toy.
"Ain't no sunshine when she's gone..." she sings softly, dropping the toy into the sack. Then she writes in the book:
'NAUGHTY'
"You're in a good mood, Azarrde." Feeyeetyn comments, as she conjures a little train out of the air. "These puzzles are so rewarding!"
"Oh yes." Azarrde says smoothly. "I want to give them such a Christmas, that they'll never want anything again..."
She dipped her hand into the box and pulled out the next one.
Betty Manickle-Johnson
Immediately a scowl fell on her face again as she pulled up the records. This one was even harder, with files scattered around three different space time locations.
Sod it! One more wouldn't hurt. She'd teach this person, not even a child, to go messing with the space time continuum. Her eyes fall on the Warnings section. Everyone has one, since that episode with the anaphylaxis and the bag of festive chestnuts.
She brings up the Discworld file, turns a couple of pages, and smiles all the more. Putting a piece of festive paper on the file, she mutters a copy spell, and the page of the file copies onto the paper. She cuts out the part she wants, slips it into a frame, and wraps it in pretty paper.
'NAUGHTY'
***
A thousand miles away, Chris wakes from his restless sleep on top of a pile of letters. The book is scratching, furiously, on his bedside table. Sure, at this time of year he can always hear the Ministry of Elf editing it, but this is much louder, and it's glowing more brightly than its usual dim light. He reaches over to pick it up, and it's hot, almost enough to burn his hand.
"That don't look good." he mutters, grabbing a pillow case to pick up the book and open it. A cloud of smoke billows out, causing him to yell and drop it in alarm. It lands with a hiss, and the glowing dies down.
He watches it for a few minutes, to make sure it isn't going to do it again. Then goes downstairs and puts it inside the cold oven before going back to bed.
In the Christmas Anomalies department, the more complex Christmas wishes were assembled by a crack team. Most often they dealt with the ambiguous; the lost letters of the past, the confused letters of the future, the confusing delivery address and the even more confusing present.
In one corner, there were four elves poring over a particularly difficult stack of work. Klubb scratched his head in puzzlement, and broke the silence to read one out.
"'Dear Santa I wood like the thing that goes dance boogie doo doo doo I have been very good love Toby'"
"Furby." Feeyeetyn said, without looking up from her own puzzle.
"Most definitely." Sparre agreed, putting her letter in a box. "My brother built a thousand of those this year."
The fourth elf, Azarrde, merely grunted with irritation as she picked up the book. This one was the worst; timelines from all over the universe, not even in their area, and names and presents to assign. She glanced towards the window at the snow, then picked up the next name from the box.
Rae Seddon
Azarrde pulls up the file, and peers at it for a moment. Blah blah blah, cake, blah, the nuisance of it all having to be done one at a time! Far too much to search through for a year's record. Her frustration breaks, she suddenly smiles.
She takes up a needle, and with lightning quick speed, fashions a toy.
"Ain't no sunshine when she's gone..." she sings softly, dropping the toy into the sack. Then she writes in the book:
'NAUGHTY'
"You're in a good mood, Azarrde." Feeyeetyn comments, as she conjures a little train out of the air. "These puzzles are so rewarding!"
"Oh yes." Azarrde says smoothly. "I want to give them such a Christmas, that they'll never want anything again..."
She dipped her hand into the box and pulled out the next one.
Betty Manickle-Johnson
Immediately a scowl fell on her face again as she pulled up the records. This one was even harder, with files scattered around three different space time locations.
Sod it! One more wouldn't hurt. She'd teach this person, not even a child, to go messing with the space time continuum. Her eyes fall on the Warnings section. Everyone has one, since that episode with the anaphylaxis and the bag of festive chestnuts.
She brings up the Discworld file, turns a couple of pages, and smiles all the more. Putting a piece of festive paper on the file, she mutters a copy spell, and the page of the file copies onto the paper. She cuts out the part she wants, slips it into a frame, and wraps it in pretty paper.
'NAUGHTY'
***
A thousand miles away, Chris wakes from his restless sleep on top of a pile of letters. The book is scratching, furiously, on his bedside table. Sure, at this time of year he can always hear the Ministry of Elf editing it, but this is much louder, and it's glowing more brightly than its usual dim light. He reaches over to pick it up, and it's hot, almost enough to burn his hand.
"That don't look good." he mutters, grabbing a pillow case to pick up the book and open it. A cloud of smoke billows out, causing him to yell and drop it in alarm. It lands with a hiss, and the glowing dies down.
He watches it for a few minutes, to make sure it isn't going to do it again. Then goes downstairs and puts it inside the cold oven before going back to bed.