Chapter 2: Quality Assurance

Mike stood outside the small, thatched yurt that the centaurs used as their infirmary. Nearby, Kisa paced along the top of a fence that created a small pen for sheep and pigs. A pair of centaurs stood outside the yurt, ready to run a message or retrieve supplies.

“She will be okay, Mike Radley.” Death stood to Mike’s left, holding a cup of tea in both hands. He had seen Mike carrying Tink and had followed them to the centaur village.

Cecilia hovered nearby as well, and Mike had fought the urge numerous times to tell them both to go away. There was a very real fear that Cecilia may open her mouth and start singing, or perhaps Death would suddenly offer his condolences. Their presence would have no effect on whatever actually happened, a fact that he told himself over and over again.

Yuki had heard the commotion and tried to come with them, but he had told her to stay behind in case Grace got out of bed. This was stressful enough. He didn’t need to worry about his daughter waking up to an empty home.

Zel stepped through the flap of the yurt and sighed. “She’s okay.”

Mike nodded, his eyes brimming with tears he hadn’t known were there. He wiped them away. “Can I go see her?”

“You could, but she’s resting comfortably now. She needs her sleep and you might wake her.” Zel walked toward him, the flap of the yurt parting as Kisa slipped inside. “But we should talk.”

Mike nodded. Zel led him away from the yurt a bit, then turned to face him. She opened her mouth to say something, then looked over his shoulder and paused.

The Caretaker turned to see that Death and Cecilia were both standing right behind him. He just shrugged. “It’s not like whatever you tell me will remain a secret,” he said.

“That’s fair.” Zel yawned and pulled a small notebook from a bag around her waist. She flipped it open and thumbed through the pages. “I’ve been tracking the extraordinary events surrounding Tink’s pregnancy. Everything goes in here, including signs of aging.”

“I’m aware,” Mike said. Zel had been meticulous about everything in regards to Tink. The centaur’s primary fear at first had centered around the goblin’s diminutive size, coupled with the unknown genetics of the baby. Goblins typically gave birth to multiples, but the half-human baby developing in Tink’s womb had taken up all the available space already.

“So I’ve been tracking her age. Tink’s actual age is elderly by human standards. We aren’t even certain how long goblins can live due to the often violent conditions they are usually required to survive. Due to her own version of the nymph’s blessing, her body has never aged, but the baby is somehow draining that magic from her. When you first brought Tink to me with this pregnancy, she had all the ‘human’ hallmarks of a woman in her mid-twenties.” Zel found the page she wanted and held the book open for Mike. “As of today, based on human biology, I would clock her as a woman in her mid-to-late forties.”

“Women in their forties have babies, though.” Mike looked at the chart Zel had made, but his vision was too blurry.

“You’re right, they do. But look at the progression.” Zel took the book back and pointed at the data points. “When I add in today’s incident, what shape does this line make?”

“A curve.” Mike already saw where this was going. “She’s aging at an accelerating rate.”

Zel nodded. “Once the magic of the blessing is gone, I can only assume the pregnancy will drain her of her actual lifeforce. Goblins only have a four to five month pregnancy, and give birth to litters. But we know she’s only carrying one child, and it is much larger than a goblin. If she were to give birth soon, it’s likely she would do so as a fifty or sixty year old. But we have no idea how far along she actually is.”

Mike scowled. “Tink keeps telling me that the baby is still growing.”

The centaur sighed. “She tells me the same thing. Mike, if she carries this baby to a human term of nine months, we have to assume she will present as a two-hundred year old woman. And humans don’t live—”

“I get it.” Mike ran his fingers through his hair. “Fuck,” he whispered.

“Yeah.” Zel closed her book and put it away. “We need to figure out how to help her, and soon.”

Mike stared at the ground, his thoughts caught in a whirlwind of emotions. What could he even do? Was there anyone who could help him? How could he—

“Hey.” Zel grabbed Mike by the hand and he felt the world snap back into focus. “We can solve this together. Let’s think about the things we can do right now to help.”

“Right. Um...” Mike looked up into Zel’s eyes. They seemed to sparkle, reflecting the light of nearby torches. The centaur was clearly concerned, but she was also full of hope. He took a deep breath, drawing strength from her. “Our main problem is the deadline. How long do you think she has?”

“Hard to say,” Zel replied. “But if my observations are correct, anything past two months would place her well within the lower range for dying of old age. I suspect her advanced years will make the pregnancy even more difficult. According to the medical texts you’ve brought me, human births past the age of forty are treated as geriatric. We’re officially in troubled waters if she were a human.”

Mike snapped his fingers. “What about the Library, then? We couldn’t keep Grace’s egg there because time doesn’t pass. I mean, living things don’t age. Would that keep the pregnancy from progressing?”

The centaur nodded. “I assume so, but that would also mean poor Tink remains the way she is for months, maybe even years. That’s probably a question for Sofia, but yeah, anything we can do to keep the baby from growing will give us and Tink extra time to solve the problem.”

Death cleared his throat, a clear reminder that he was still nearby. “While Tinker Radley is in the Library resting, perhaps we should take a trip to the North Pole and ask Santa for more details. After all, this is the result of a Christmas Wish, and I wonder if we may learn something from him or Miss Holly that could help us.”

“That’s a really good idea,” said Mike.

“We could also visit the Hot Cocoa Lounge.” Death sipped at his tea. “I have been unable to find a hot chocolate I enjoy outside of the North Pole.”

“These both sound like great ideas,” Zel said as she stepped into Mike and hugged him. He let out a sigh and leaned into the centaur. She smelled of campfires and hay. “If someone can have the rats open a portal from here to the Library, we can move her once she seems stable enough.”

“Thank you,” said Mike, wrapping his arms around Zel’s torso.

“Of course.” Zel’s hug suddenly became tight. “And since I’m awake and have you here anyway, maybe we can talk about how Callisto managed to get into the Vault while you were supposed to be keeping an eye on him.”

“Um...” Mike made a face. “Yeah, about that...”

“Come, Miss Cecilia. It would seem now is the time to leave Mike Radley to his fate.” Death cordially held a hand out for the banshee, who flashed Mike a wry grin and then took the Grim Reaper’s hand in her own and walked away with him.

Don’t leave me, Mike thought at Death and Cecilia as Zel released her embrace and fixed him with a stern glare. If he had a choice between arguing with Zel or fighting monsters in the Vault, he would take the Vault every time.

Daybreak flooded through the skylights, illuminating the marble chamber. The light was scattered by the thin silken fabric draped over the top and sides of the massive four-poster bed in the center of the room. Sofia winced at the light. It was an artifact of the Library, the fake light streaming from the ceiling of the room. The Library was truly located between realms in a place devoid of the true passage of time or space.

Yet somehow, a previous Head Librarian had managed to use this function as a gentle alarm clock meant to let them know it was time for work. No matter which room Sofia chose to sleep in, the skylight appeared and woke her when she was rested and it was time for work. Sighing, she sat up and grabbed her head.

“Shouldn’t have drunk so much last night,” she muttered. The events of the evening had started to blur after her third bottle of wine. She told herself at the time that she was simply taking a night off. The more truthful part of her admitted that the goal after Ratu’s visit had been to drown herself in the misery of her own thoughts.

It hadn’t been the naga’s fault. Facing hard truths was always difficult. However, there was a difference between acknowledging a problem and having it smack you right in the face.

When Sofia leaned forward to get out of bed, the pain shifted forward, as if it were a molten hot fluid in the back of her skull. The cyclops groaned and sank onto her knees next to the bed, then assumed the fetal position on the cold floor. From down there, she could see the empty bottles under her bed. She counted way more than three, and the remains of what was probably once a party sub. Groaning, she crawled across the floor to her staff, which was leaning against the other side of her nightstand. The cold marble felt good through the silk of her nightgown, and was probably the only thing keeping her from puking everywhere.

When she got her fingers around the bottom of the staff, she knocked it over. It smacked into the ground with a crack, like thunder, and Sofia felt the world spin around her. She squeezed her eye tight, tears flowing down her cheeks in agony. It took her a good minute before she reached out to find where the staff had landed, then pulled it to her chest and sent her will through the ancient wood.

A soft glow could be seen through her closed eyelid, and the staff’s magic burned through her, scouring her clean of the agony of her hangover. She sagged with relief, then opened her eye to stare at the ceiling.

While the staff was capable of balancing her symptoms, it didn’t actually cure her. To do that, she would need plenty of water and probably a meal that didn’t sit in her stomach like a brick. Sitting up, she used the nightstand to pull herself to her feet. The staff acted as a crutch as she shuffled to the bathroom.

After using the bathroom, she moved to stand in front of the mirror. The sclera of her eye was red all over, and the long braid of her hair had come undone. It was going to take forever to brush all the tangles out of it.

“Gods,” she muttered, then stumbled out of the bathroom to the armoire that contained her clothes. Sofia undressed and slipped into a long, white gown which she cinched around the waist. The gown folded in the front, which accentuated her already large breasts. Satisfied that she hadn’t screwed up and put something on wrong or backward, she went back into the bathroom and looked in the mirror.

“You’re a hot fucking mess,” she said, then picked up the nearest brush and got to work. Some of the tangles were bad enough that she ended up yanking out the strands instead, which did nothing good for the state of her head. After almost twenty minutes of brushing her waist-length hair, she figured it was good enough and threw it into a braid.

Sofia checked her outfit one more time in the mirror and nodded. If she squinted, she didn’t look too bad. Her stomach growled and the pounding in her head increased. She needed breakfast, and maybe some orange juice.

Stepping out of her room, she heard the rustle of moving furniture, followed by guttural grumbling. Walking down the long hallway of the librarian’s living quarters, she saw a parade of rats in and out of the last room. She looked through the doorway and saw that Tink was lying in the room’s bed with a large plate of deli meats by her feet and a massive jar of pickles on her stomach. The goblin was grumbling to herself as she watched what appeared to be a home improvement show on a tv that had been installed on the wall.

“Stupid fucking dumb fucks,” she muttered, then grabbed the jar of pickles. Tink unscrewed the lid. “Angle flooring, make nicer fit.” She put the jar to her mouth and tipped the thing back, drinking a big mouthful of juice in her attempt to grab a pickle with her teeth. When she lowered the jar, she turned to look at Sofia, three pickles sticking out of her mouth.

“What. Are. You. Doing. Here?” Sofia stared in horror at the mess of wrappers and plates around Tink’s bed. A small group of rats were busy trying to clean it all up. They all scattered when Tink tried to set the jar back on the nightstand and dropped it instead.

Tink shoved the pickles in her mouth, chewing as she talked. “Tink live here now until husband find way to keep Tink and baby booger safe.”

“Baby ... booger?”

Tink shrugged. “Goblin baby called booger. Tink called booger one time, think it funny after.” The goblin stretched, which caused her nightgown to ride up, revealing that her stomach looked like an over-inflated balloon. Her belly button had popped inside out. “Library neat, keep bringing Tink food!”

Sofia backed out of the room in horror, then walked wide-eyed into the lobby. At the help desk, a large platter with a big breakfast and some orange juice was waiting for her. A pair of rats hopped onto the counter and picked it up, then started marching toward the hallway.

“That’s mine,” she said, pointing her staff at them. “Don’t you fucking touch my food.”

The rats squeaked in terror and scattered. Sofia moved to sit at the help desk, then fumbled for the knife and fork on the platter.

“Tink spilled again!” The goblin’s voice echoed out into the lobby. Sofia picked up her tray and found a pedestal to get on. Using her staff, she had the platform lift into the sky to carry her anywhere but here.

Nearly ten stories up, she found a ledge with a small reading table that overlooked the main lobby. She landed her pedestal and sat down with her meal to watch.

The rats were busy streaming in and out of Tink’s room, like ants serving their queen. Sofia glared down at the activity from above, shoving food in her mouth. Halfway through her meal, a dark form dropped down from the ceiling on a silken strand.

“There you are.” Eulalie was hanging upside down, her hair tied back with a red ribbon. “You were slow getting out of bed.”

“Hmmph.” Sofia picked up a piece of bacon and held it out to her. “Why is the goblin here?”

“Ah, that.” Eulalie took the bacon from Sofia. “She almost died last night.”

Sofia choked on her own spit. “What?”

The Arachne nodded. “Maybe not that drastic, but her baby is causing her to age at a faster rate. They moved her here to keep her from getting any older.”

“But the baby won’t get older either.”

“And thus, we have a conundrum.” Eulalie stuck the bacon in her mouth. “Which is why Mike and Death are headed to the North Pole to ask Santa about it.”

“Wait, what?” Sofia stared at the Arachne. “They’re ... just going to see Santa, just like that?”

“Not sure why they wouldn’t. Mike just texted to let me know he was leaving.” Eulalie pulled another piece of bacon off of Sofia’s plate. “They’re hoping that Santa might have answers about how to help Tink. The sooner they can fix her, the faster she can go home and—”

Sofia stood and jogged over to her pedestal, her staff in one hand and the orange juice in the other. She stepped onto the platform and tapped it with her staff.

“Can I have the rest of your bacon?” Eulalie asked as she stuffed it all into her mouth. Sofia waved dismissively, willing the platform to move even faster. It dropped from the air so fast that the cyclops felt her aching stomach lurch upward, and she almost lost what little she had eaten. Before the platform had even touched down, Sofia stepped off, landing in a crouch.

The rats in the Lobby stared at Sofia as she broke into a run. She slid to a stop by a large bookshelf against the wall, then paused to lean her staff against it. The Head Librarian’s staff was a powerful artifact that only functioned in the Library itself, so leaving it behind was always the safest option.

Sofia pulled a book out of the shelf and the world distorted as she was transported immediately to Mike Radley’s home office. She set the book elsewhere on the shelf and ran for the living room. Yuki was sitting on the couch, playing some sort of hand game with Grace. The fireplace crackled with purple fire, and the tattered edges of Death’s cloak could be seen disappearing through it.

The cyclops sprinted across the room, then dove headfirst into the fire as the magical portal snapped shut.

Mike stepped out of the fireplace and then stopped to admire the new lobby of the Workshop. The last time he was here, the place had still been quite a mess. Since then, any damage done by the Krampus or his buddies had been undone. In fact, the place actually looked bigger, as if some serious renovations had been done. Large tv screens were installed on several walls, most of them monitoring and tracking data from across the world. Toy commercials were playing on several of them and there was a Naughty/Nice pie chart that ticked back and forth as it tracked the children of the world.

“That’s predictive,” said Death from right behind him. “It uses a complex algorithm based on probability. This gives the elves advance notice on how hard they—”

Mike felt his stomach tighten up and turned to see somebody come through the fireplace. He should have moved out of the way, but the sight of Sofia had him so shocked that he stuck his arms out to catch her instead. The cyclops crashed into him, causing both of them to fall and skid across the floor together. Passing elves froze in their tracks to watch.

“Ow!” Sofia put a hand to her forehead. “Fu—”

Mike slapped a hand over her mouth. “Don’t,” he said, flicking his gaze toward the elves. “It doesn’t go over very well.”

“Right.” The cyclops shifted her arms to try and stand on her own. This caused her large breasts to get shoved into Mike’s face for just a moment, and then she was up. She dropped a hand to assist him.

“What are you doing here?” he asked.

“You stuck a goblin in my Library without asking,” she said.

“We tried,” he replied. “The rats said they couldn’t wake you up. Since it was literally life or death, we spoke with Eulalie instead and she told us where to set up.”

“Oh.” Sofia put a hand to her head and winced. “Right. It was a difficult ... evening.”

“Is everything okay?” he asked.

“Of course,” she snapped, then cleared her throat. “Um ... it’s just inconvenient is all. The rats are being pulled away from their duties and we’re still way behind.”

Mike wasn’t buying it. Tink was clearly part of the problem, but it had to be something deeper than that. Her soul was twisted up in places, indicating some form of internal struggle. He had gotten good at interpreting emotions by watching the souls of others, but it hardly made him a mind reader. However, the lobby of the North Pole Workshop was not the place to start having a discussion with Sofia about what the actual issue was.

“Excuse me.” Mike turned to the nearest elf. “We’re here to see Santa and Holly. You can let them know Mike, the Caretaker, has come for a quick visit and then I’ll be out of their hair.”

The elf, clad in an outfit that was the epitome of a candy cane, nodded and jogged off, the bells on their shoes ringing.

“Ah!” Death turned his attention toward the Hot Cocoa Lounge. “If you’ll excuse me, I intend to stock up.” The Grim Reaper walked toward the lounge, opening his robes to reveal that he was carrying a large, insulated liquid dispenser. This left Mike alone with Sofia, who was busy adjusting her gown.

“So this is the North Pole?” Sofia walked over toward the entrance to the building. A large bay of windows had been installed, revealing the frozen village outside. It was nighttime, yet a large group of elves were busy having a snowball fight under the glow of the lanterns.

“Yep.” Mike moved up to the door. “It’s got a much different vibe than the last time I was here. It’s nice to see them having fun outside.”

Sofia moved up next to him and frowned. “Aren’t they supposed to be making presents? Christmas is in a couple of months.”

“They’re not slaves. They get days off.” Mike could see a group of elves beyond the snowball fight. They were hard at work building a massive snowman. “In fact, I know that’s something Holly was trying to find a better balance for after she took over. These guys were created for one purpose, but that doesn’t mean that they don’t deserve better.”

“You could almost say it was a Christmas miracle.” The high pitched voice came from none other than Holly herself. He turned around to see that she was holding a computer tablet that she swiped at with her fingers. The elf was wearing a red and green dress with cream-colored pinstripe tights. Satisfied by whatever she saw there, she handed the tablet off to the elf Mike had sent for her. “Will you let the Ribbon department know that I approved their request?”

The elf nodded and ran off.

“If you’re doing everything electronically, why not send an email?” asked Sofia.

Holly laughed. “Because, silly, that would make it less personal!” She moved next to Mike and looked outside. “Ooh, that looks like fun.”

“Hello, Holly.” Mike stuck out his hand. “You look well.”

The elf grinned, then stepped past his hand to hug him. “You’re looking good,” she said, then sniffed the air. “You smell good, too.”

Sofia cleared her throat.

“Holly, this is Sofia. She’s the Head Librarian.”

Holly turned and craned her neck to make eye contact with the cyclops. “Hi there!” She stuck out a hand for the cyclops to shake. It disappeared inside of Sofia’s palm.

“A pleasure.” Sofia gave Mike a look. “We’ve come on business.”

“Right. Speaking of Christmas miracles, I was hoping to speak with Santa about my own regarding Tink.” Mike looked down at Holly, who was staring at Sofia’s breasts. Each one was the size of her head. “Unless you know how all that works.”

“Eh.” Holly waggled her hand. “I understand some of it, but Santa could definitely describe it better than I could. If you all want to wait in the Hot Cocoa Lounge, I could set up a meeting right away.”

“You can’t just take us to him?” asked Sofia.

“Nope!” Holly’s tone was cheery as she turned and craned her head back to look up at Sofia. The cyclops was nearly twice the elf’s height. “I have no idea what he’s doing right now, and would prefer to let him finish in case it’s important.”

Sofia crossed her arms and scoffed. Holly turned back to Mike and jerked her thumb at the librarian. “This one seems tense,” she said.

Mike gave Sofia a look of concern. “Unusually so,” he added. “We’ll be in the lounge. If you can, have someone let us know how long we’ll be waiting. Otherwise she might explode.”

A nearby elf stopped in their tracks and stared at Mike in horror.

“I’m kidding,” he said. “She won’t literally explode.”

Holly waved the elf on, then turned back to Mike. “That one is new,” she said. “Only a few months old.”

“You create them fully grown?” asked Sofia as they started toward the lounge.

The elf nodded. “We’re still replacing the lives lost from the previous Christmas. However, instead of just making all of them at once, we’ve been looking at how to create improved versions with a better sense of free will.”

“Why not copy you?” asked Mike. “You have free will.”

“Part of that is because I’m now in charge of this place.” Holly waved her hand around. “Technically, I rank above Santa now. There’s no telling how the magic may interpret something like that.”

“And the other part?” asked Sofia.

Holly giggled, then gave Mike a longing look. “Because I’m tainted,” she said in a sing-song voice. “Somebody filled me up with a little holiday spirit of his own, and we don’t know what that will do.”

“Of fucking course,” muttered Sofia. Several elves passing by immediately dropped whatever they were carrying and ran off, covering their ears.

“I warned you,” said Mike to the cyclops. Then he turned to Holly. “I thought that was something else you were going to work on.”

Holly chuckled. “Swearing in general is very rude,” she said, throwing Sofia a dirty look. “But there are plenty of older elves who will react ... poorly to it.”

Sofia blushed, then stared at her feet as the three of them entered the lounge. When they opened the door, Mike heard soft Christmas jazz playing and saw a live band on the stage. Remarkably, Death was up on stage with a saxophone in the middle of a solo.

“Death?” Mike stared at the Grim Reaper as he finished up the Carol of the Bells. When he saw Mike, the Reaper handed the instrument to an elf who stood nearby. “You play the saxophone?”

“I play this one, yes.” Death gestured back at the stage as he stepped down. “The instruments here are magical. Anyone who wants to play is given the ability to do so.” The fires in his eyes flickered. “Mike Radley, do you want to join the band with me?”

“Er, not today, buddy.” Mike surveyed the room where dozens of elves chatted amicably while drinking hot chocolate. “What happened to the jukebox?” he asked.

“Moved it to my room after it was fixed.” Holly smirked. “Once the elves found out how it was broken, they started drawing ... inspiration just from the sight of it. Now we do live music when we can, otherwise we just play recordings through the speakers.”

Mike winced. “How much do I owe you for the jukebox?” he asked.

Holly raised an eyebrow. “Hold onto that thought,” she said, then patted a seat at the bar. “I’ll go find Santa.”

“We’ll be here.” Mike sat down and was immediately approached by a Christmas elf dressed as a bartender. The man had a mustache that had been curled upward into a loop on both sides. His nametag said that he was Felix.

“What’ll you have?” asked Felix.

“Cocoa. Make it hot.”

The elf nodded, then knelt beneath the counter to grab a mug. Mike looked at Sofia, who was still standing behind him. “I’ll buy you a drink,” he said.

“Don’t be asinine.” Sofia winced, then looked around to see if anyone had flinched. A couple of elves regarded her with suspicion, but that was it. “I assume the drinks here are free.”

“But it’s the thought that counts,” said Death, who turned to Felix. “Put Mike Radley’s drink on my tab.”

“Yes, sir, Mr. Death, sir.” Felix winked at Mike and set a steaming mug in front of him. “I assume you know the rules?”

“Never, ever let it cool,” Mike responded, then picked up his cup.

Felix turned to Sofia. “And for the goddess? he asked.

Sofia turned bright red. “I am no goddess,” she replied.

“Well, you’re built like one.” Felix threw a towel over his shoulder and started wiping down a nearby mug with a rag. “So what brings you crazy kids here? Honeymoon?” He waggled his eyebrows.

The cyclops sputtered a reply, but it was unintelligible.

Mike chuckled. “Just getting out of the house. You know how it is. Now that the kids are here, we just never seem to get any time for ourselves any more.”

Felix nodded in understanding. “Kids, am I right? How so much trouble and terror can be packed into those little miracles, I simply can’t understand.”

“Are you two for real right now?” Sofia sat on the stool, which vanished from sight under her butt. “Did you plan this?”

“No idea what you’re talking about,” said Felix, who pulled a clean mug from under the counter and tossed it up from behind his back. He caught it with his other hand and slid it under the spigot to fill it up with cocoa. After topping it with whipped cream, he set it in front of Sofia and tossed a handful of shaved chocolate on top with some pink sea salt. “Here. It’s from the old country. Seems like it would be your speed.”

“I feel like I’m in a bad movie and half the dialogue is missing.” The cyclops frowned at her cup. “It’s just hot chocolate.”

“Or is it?” Felix grinned. “Perhaps I’m just a slinger of confections. Or maybe, just maybe, I’m secretly more.”

“Gods, I’ll drink it if you’ll actually shut up.” Sofia picked up the mug, which looked tiny in her hands. When she sipped it, her whole face flushed with color and she gasped. “This ... this is...”

“Magic,” replied Felix, making a little explosion with his hands. “You all let me know if you want more.”

Mike held back a laugh as Sofia drained half her cup in one swallow. Whipped cream and chocolate curls were stuck to her upper lip.

“And thus, the Head Librarian discovers the true meaning of Christmas,” Death said with a chuckle. “Felix, is my special order ready yet?”

“Not yet, Mr. Death, sir. I’ve got a special blend being frothed in the back for you. It’s made from a secret recipe of dark chocolate that’s been caffeinated to give you a delightful buzz.”

“You’re a good man. I’ll name my first child after you.” The Grim Reaper watched Felix go, then turned to Mike. “Naturally, I won’t ever have children. This is just something fun I said for spontaneity.”

“I figured,” said Mike.

Death looked at Sofia. “I like the North Pole and the Hot Cocoa Lounge because, to the elves, I’m not the personification of their inevitable end. Here, I’m Santa’s number one helper and get to be something more than what I am. It feels good, doesn’t it?”