Candi thinks that if he were real, that he must be evil--but I don't think so. Maybe he does punish them with a switch and a rod, but that's got to be a more effective punishment than a lump of coal. A lump of coal? Whoop-de-doo! And sometimes, Santa doesn't even do that much. He's a bit stingy with the coal, if you ask me.
But that's all Krampus is doing...punishing the Naughty kids. Teaching them a lesson. Making sure the kids end up on the right list next year. And that is pretty darn cool. I even put his name on the back of my work vest. And the bells on my shoes have devil horns. And, even though everyone insists on calling my Jackie Rumpus, I changed the nameplate on my door to JACK KRUMPUS. He's my hero. I keep asking Santa to grant me that one wish every year--to meet my hero. But Santa ignores me. I've even asked him a few times if he's real or pretend, but Santa won't discuss it. Tells me I should worry less on Krampus and more on the toys I should be making. But I hate making toys. And I hate the cold. And red. And green. Maybe I just belong to a "darker" side of Christmas?
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 Folks think elves are born into the world with a wooden mallet and knowing how to make toys. We don't. We have to go through the Elf Brigade for all that stuff.
Crusty is one of the Brigade's oldest teachers. He stands about twice as tall as a normal elf, bent with age. Ancient, really. When he stops to listen, he sticks one of them hearing trumpets in his ear, but even then it's like he hears only every other word and then makes up the rest. He's the best! Eventually, I got kicked out of the Brigade...failed at too many badges after not getting my Present Wrapping badge. Seriously, me and tape are not friends. I acted like getting kicked out of the Brigade didn't bother me, but Candi knew...I just wanted to belong to something. Anything. "Who needs the Elf Brigade?" she asked. "We'll be our own brigade. Just us." The Jolly Dead Brigade. I made her a necklace..a jack o' lantern bat made festive with a Santa hat. And she made me a candy-striped ring that only fits on the middle finger of my left hand. Folks don't understand our friendship, but Candi...she's everything good about The Pole. Everything good to me, anyway.  Holy hell, it's cold!
Like, really cold. Dark, dreary, muted. That swirly wind really bites, and in unhappy places, too. Folks often think all we have here are these old, fantastic cottages--and we do!--but we also ahve a campus of new buildings around the hub of North Pole Headquarters. And we have kettle cars--cars that drive any number of passengers to wherever...keeping warm around a burning fire on their way to Thimble's or the (slightly sketchy) Nutcracker Tavern for rounds of peppermint ale. And, of course, we also have reindeer, kept way off campus because, let's face it, reindeer stink. And we have Santa. What's he like? Kind of a crab butt lately. Especially to me. To be honest, I think the fat man hates me. Every year, the elves all get one Christmas wish. Just one. And Santa never comes through for me. If elves are on his Naughty list, I suppose I must be on it. At the top. In bold letters. In permanent marker. |
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