Not taking my eye off the criminal, I quickly hop down from my post at the Ornament Maker and start sprinting. I brush past curious and startled looks and vault on top of the Main Computer.
“PI, PUT THAT DOWN NOW!” I screech. Huffing and puffing, I run over and tear the Oobleck Maker out of Pi’s dirty little hands just before oobleck was going to be spattered all over.
“Now, now, Dot, no need to get selfish!” Pi smirked, wagging a finger, acting as if nothing was wrong, “Why don’t you go back to preschool and re-learn the concept of sharing? Sharing is caring, sharing is caring . . .” The curly-haired elf began to sing in a high-pitched, made-to-annoy-me voice, all the while skipping lightly over machines. That elf is going to be the end of me, I swear!
I rub my temples. “Hey, Charlene, “ I call over to a short elf with flaming red hair, the strands stuffed under her hat, “Can you help me do some of the work Mr. Jerkface conveniently forgot?” The much talked about Jerkface grins at me from across the room and sticks out his tongue. I roll my eyes in response and turn back to Charlene. “How about it?”
“Sure!” Char replies eagerly and jumps to the job. With Char was completing the tasks, I could get back to my post as the Elf Sentry. Naturally, I’m proud of how I got the job, and I can’t afford to lose it. I had to rise from the lowly Elf Workers to an Elf Creator, a Creator to an Idea Maker, from that to the Sentry. I could’ve picked the job of a Deliverer, but running around the world delivering gifts just isn’t my thing. I much prefer guiding elves at the workshops. I also happen to like the fact that I get rewarded with chocolate.
I survey the workshop and am surprised how smooth everything’s going, with the exception of the insufferable Pi. Bo, the jolly and slightly chubby elf in the corner, was actually not falling, tripping, or dropping anything. “Good job, Bo! Keep it up!” I yell encouragingly. Mistake of the century. Bo looks up at me, trips over flat ground, and the freshly grown mini Christmas trees spilled out of his hands and into the Stuffed Animal Maker. The machine stopped spewing out perfect reindeer, bears, and moose; instead, out came one demented, smiling, red-ish colored moose with claws and an antler. The machine stopped chugging after this.
Pi swooped down on the deranged stuffed animal. He picked it up lightly, and ran his hands over it, probably to make sure at least the fabric had good quality. Despite his trouble-making tendencies, I must say, that guy had a seriously good eye for quality. That’s the sole reason that Santa, our boss, kept him the elf workforce. Pi was currently our only Quality Checker.
Pi, evidently done checking the stuffed animal, had a look of disgust on his pointy face. He muttered something about “Stupid 0.10 per-cent cotton” and chucked the animal randomly. This proved to be the mistake of the millenia. The unfortunate toy landed in the Magical Sack Maker, and the machine sputtered to a stop. For a second I was ok with that, because I thought the elves had finished making the Magical Sacks, as the deadline had been last week. Then came crashing down on me the fact that there hadn’t been enough material and the sacks were never made.
All the other elves were transfixed with horror. A couple of newer ones burst out crying, because who wants a disaster to happen on their first day? Even Pi seemed to be able to understand the seriousness of the situation. The Magical Sacks are where the Deliverer elves put the gifts for children all over the world. The sacks magically make all the toys fit, and controls the heaviness, too. Once the Deliverer elves’ reindeer arrives at a house, the sack automatically tips over and delivers the gift into the chimney of the house. Without the sacks, presents would have to be delivered by hand. With the small amount of Deliverers, and the ever-growing number of humans in this world, Christmas gifts would take 10 years to deliver! Santa could lower it to 10 days, as Santa’s magic itself is very powerful, but that would still be too late.
Suddenly, I spot Pi’s face brightening. He hurries over to Char, and whispers in her ear. Char’s face also lightens, and a smile breaks out on her face. As Pi goes to tell Bo, Char catches my eye and heads toward me.I lean down to the short elf to hear what she has to say. “ . . . .Pi’s idea, amazing . . . . Narwhals . . . . The Cat in the Hat . . . . Candy Canes. . . . Toucans . . . . Christmas trees . . . .”
The more Char spoke, the more I was amazed. To think that Pi would come up with this! It was nothing short of genius! I turn around, beaming, about to congratulate Pi on a job well done, when Pi looks at me and smiles in an irritatingly smug way, “I’m such a genius, aren’t I?”
Way to ruin the moment. And I finally thought he turned good! Whatever. Time to start on the plan!
30 min. later. . .
“. . . . And that’s how we’re gonna save Christmas!” I explain. About 500 elves looked shell-shocked and confused. Pi gets up and gives them a summarized, shorter version, and much more elves seem to understand. Like I said before, whatever. It’s time to save Christmas!
We split up. 100 elves go contact multiple narwhal pods, and get them to deliver presents near the coasts. Narwhals like cold waters, so Char sewed up a little ice suit to keep them cold even in the tropics. The suit also let narwhals walk on land. Pi spewed special camouflage Oobleck over the suits, lest humans see the narwhals.
The same 100 also go contact some birds to deliver presents, but I feel uneasy relying on birds. I mean, everyone knows that they are flighty. But then I find out the birds are toucans, and I feel much better. I like toucans. I have one named Okra as a pet.
150 new little elves go ring the doorbell on Dr. Seuss’s door, and they manage to convince him to help deliver presents through books and TV. How? I don’t know, and I have no idea how Pi knew that The Cat in The Hat could jump from book to book, TV to TV. As long as he’s successful and no pink goo is splattered over people’s houses, I don’t care.
Next, 100 more elves gather candy canes and have Mrs. Claus enchant them to have presents on the inside, according to who the candy cane will be eaten. Of course, I took no chances and I personally used my elf-charms to make sure the correct person would eat it.
The rest of the elves were in charge of helping the make time go slower while the presents were being delivered. This is done by a certain trademark secret :True Christmas Trees. True Christmas Trees are very, very, very, hard to find. They grow mostly at Christmas time, and occasionally in the month of December. True Trees are sprouted from a true Christmas spirit, and they take forever to grow. Naturally, we elves have a tendency to hoard precious things, and quite a bit of us contributed to the pile of True Trees that were to be used to slow time. I have a few trees myself, and I donated most of them. Bo, as a tree worker, donated about 20, since he probably had about 50 True Christmas trees. Char was a goody-two-shoes, and did not hoard many things; therefore, she only donated 2. The real donator was Pi, who spilled 75 True Trees into the pile. Of course, being Pi, he kept the other 300 at home.
At last, it was only me, Pi, Char and Bo left at the factory. I walked around straightening things, while thinking about how I could fix the broken Magical Sack Maker. I noticed Pi had a look of concentration on his face, too. I walked over and put a Santa’s Special Thinking Hat on him.
“Now, hurry up and think up some plan to fix the stupid machines,” I say. His face loses that concentrated look for a moment while he grins at me, but then his brain resumes turning like a clock-work.
“Ah-Ha!” He cried, smacking a fist into his open palm, “That’s it!”
“What is it?” Char asks.
Pi looks at me mischievously and says, “Elf Sentry Dot here is gonna have to do some gymnastics.” Then, he sends Bo to get a couple of tools and a Lucky Santa Hat.
“Why do I need a Lucky Santa Hat?”
“You’ll need it.” Just great.
“Hey, Dot, you see that screw waaaaaaay up there?” shouts Pi, pointing, “That’s what you’re gonna havta screw off. “
Even as I speak I can feel my brain working to figure a way to scale the Magical Sack Maker. “But Pi,” I complain, “To get up there, I have to do 5 somersaults in mid-air, 10 cartwheels with one hand, 5 cartwheels with no hands, and the splits!”
“See? I knew you would be able to figure it out. And, if you must know, you’re the best at gymnastics in the whole elf population. Or maybe I was mistaken?” Pi replied smugly. That little compliment helped, but it was the challenge that really did it. My weakness is that I can never back down from a challenge, no matter how dangerous or silly it was. In this case, it was dangerous. The Sack Maker was a large, uneven, and boxy metal machine, with sharp edges and many precipices where it was only supported by thin cardboard. If you fell off one of them, you would land in a giant hole where either the supplies were piled in, or where the Sacks came out. At best, you would have the wind knocked out of you. At worst, you would be impaled by steel spikes that were used to mash up scrap fabric.
When Bo arrives with all the tools, I throw on the Lucky Santa Hat, vault on top of the machine, flip over a not-functioning gear, cartwheel over several garlands, and land on a narrow metal precipice. I just need to swing on that chandelier, let go, flip twice, and throw the screwdriver at the right angle while sliding down a volleyball net pole. If I miss, I would probably have to go through that again. I ready myself and jump toward the crystal chandelier.
Right away, I know I did something or calculated something wrong, because only the tip of my Lucky Santa Hat caught on the chandelier. Luckily, the tip stayed hooked. I slowly raise my hands, and one by one my fingers grip the branches. I start swinging, let go, and flip only once, because my momentum was too small. I throw the screwdriver, and watch it successfully hit the screw. Mission completed. The Sack Maker starts up beneath me, and I am so proud of myself that I totally forgot about the volleyball net pole that I’m flying toward. In fact, I probably would have been knocked out if Pi, Char and Bo hadn’t shouted, “VOLLEYBALL NET!”. Alerted, I automatically have my hands find the pole, and gently slide down it while giving grateful looks to Char and Bo.
As soon as my petite elf-y feet touch the ground, Pi asks, “What about me?”
“What about you?” I reply distractedly.
“You give Charlene and Bo looks like you want to hug and kiss them, but I get nothing!?” I did not expect that. Pi, jealous of elves who couldn’t even properly cause mischief? Unheard of.
At this moment, elves stream back into the factory. “Mission successful!” “We made it!” and “Woohoo!” echoed around the cavern-like room. All the children in the world received gifts, and the elves were the ones who did it, even with 2 broken machines and an unsatisfactory amount of Deliverers. All because of an insufferable Pi. A smile tugs at my face, and without thinking, I hug Pi while a “You are awesome!” escapes my mouth.
Pi smirks. “I know, right?”
Ugh. Some things never change.
No comments:
Post a Comment