Category Archives: Mischief Makers

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Pixie had watched as Glitter silently slipped out of Sugar Water during Figgy’s 3rd, possibly 4th retelling of the previous night’s mayhem. After telling Figgy, Nim and Lil what she saw, they decided to investigate.

“There she is,” whispered Figgy as he watched Glitter canter to Santa’s home.

“Why do they keep meeting?” asked Pixie for the hundredth time. “What are they talking about and why isn’t Santa there too?”

“I don’t think he knows,” said Nim. “He seemed surprised the other day when I mentioned that I had seen Glitter at his house when I dropped off Mrs. C.’s order of sugarplums.”

“Oh Nim, that wasn’t surprise,” said Lil. “That was amusement. Your face was covered in powdered sugar and sticky goo from eating the sugarplums.”

Nim chuckled.

“Quiet!” Pixie whisper-shouted. “They’re coming out!”

The four elves watched as Glitter hauled a large sack to a sled parked around the corner.

“That’s not Santa’s sled,” said Figgy.

“No,” said Nim. “That is the emergency back-up to Santa’s sled. It is normally used only for special missions…hey! They must be on some ‘special’ mission!”

But they could not stay to find out more. Nim’s ‘hey!’ sailed across the field of swirly-whirly gumdrops and right into Glitter’s ear.

“HIDE!”

Nim and Lil raced for the candy cane path behind Santa’s Workshop while Figgy and Pixy shot straight into the air, hurtling toward their next house.

***

Landing in a heap on the front doorstep, Pixie and Figgy finally had a moment to catch their breath.

“Do you think Nim and Lil made it back to the Workshop?” asked Pixie.

“I hope so,” said Figgy. “They were on foot and Glitter is fast, but I’m not sure if she really saw us or not.”

Pixie was just about to say more when she noticed an elf with its face pressed up against the frosted window in the door.

“That must be Lucie,” said Figgy.

Lucie smiled when she heard her name and started dancing and twirling and jumping up and down.

“Hmm,” said Pixie. “She seems…enthusiastic.”

Figgy snorted. “Let’s go.”

They both entered the house and were immediately tackled.

“I’m so excited to finally meet you two!!!”

“Uh, it’s nice to meet you as well…Lucie?”

“YES! Oh, you know my name! You know my name!!!”

“We-ell,” said Figgy. “You did send a letter asking for BRATT assistance so…”.

“YAY! You read my letter! I can’t believe you read it! Did you read the part about howr they won’t clean their bathroom?”

“Ye-.”

“And how the parents are getting really, really mad?”

“Yes, we di–.”

“AND how they said if they don’t start cleaning up they’re bathroom they’ll take all their presents back and tell Santa to skip over their house?”

“Whoa. That’s harsh,” said Figgy.

“Lucie, Figgy and I read your letters, all 24 of them. That’s why we are here. To help. And, we have an idea.”

“I’m all ears,” said Lucie with a slightly hysterical laugh.

“Could you show Figgy and I the bathroom? We’d like to see how bad it is for ourselves.”

Lucie led the elves to the bathroom. When they walked in, they both gasped. It was, quite possibly, the filthiest bathroom they had ever seen. And they had seen the Abominable Snowman’s bathroom, so that was saying something.

“How in the world did it get this bad?” asked Figgy, holding his nose.

“Where are their parents?” asked Pixie, staring in disgust at the pile of used towels on the floor.

“It’s like I said in my 23^rd letter. The parents have given up. And, they never come down here if they can help it.”

“Right,” said Pixie. “We’ll clean the bathroom, top to bottom. Scrub every surface until it shines.”

Lucie frowned. “But, wouldn’t that just show them that someone else will pick up their messes? Won’t they just keep being, well, slobs?”

“Ah,” said Figgy. “But you forgot the one thing that will ensure this works.”

Figgy and Pixie exchanged glances. “Toilet paper.”

Lucie waited for an explanation. None came. Instead, Figgy and Pixie flew to the cabinet under the sink and gingerly opened the door. They pulled out several rolls of toilet paper and rejoined Lucie in the hall.

“Ok, Lucie, where is their bedroom? We have some mummies to wrap.”

Lucie, Figgy and Pixie worked together to wrap both sleeping boys in toilet paper. Only their eyes, nose and mouth were left uncovered. They then rolled the rest of the toilet paper back to their now sparkling bathroom.

“I still don’t understand how this is going to help.”

“Trust us. With this note, it will help,” said Pixie.

Dear Sammy and Tim,

We’ve cleaned your bathroom, spic and span. We’ll only do it once.
If it gets that dirty ever again, we will personally tell Santa to bring you nothing but toilet paper for Christmas.

Sincerely,

The Mischief Makers

“You’re sure?” asked Lucie.

“Works every time,” said Figgy.

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Figgy and Pixie read over the Thompson’s file a second, then a third time, hardly believing their eyes. Phrases like “destroyed the coffee table” and “ruined the microwave” popped out.

“I can’t believe the parent’s have let this go for so long,” said Pixie.

“Me neither,” agreed Figgy. “It sounds like this Terry kid has taken apart and attempted to reassemble everything in the house!”

“And he tried blaming poor Tattle, but since this penchant for disassembling has been going on since August, the parents wouldn’t believe him.”

“It could have been Tattle,” Figgy pondered.

“Figgy! How can you say that?”

“Think about it. There is nothing to say we can’t go visit our houses outside of the Christmas window.”

“I can assure you, Figgy. I did not destroy property and ruin electronics.” Tattle stood behind Figgy, arms crossed and a scowl on his face.

“Oh, hi Tattle,” said Pixie nervously. “Figgy wasn’t accusing you. He was just, just thinking outside the box.”

“Yes, well I would appreciate it if he would think inside the box from now on.”

Figgy cleared his throat and looked at his toes. “Er, sorry Tattle. Won’t happen again.”

Tattle’s shoulders slumped and he sighed heavily. “It’s fine, Figgy. I would have wondered the same. I am just at my wit’s end with Terry. I’ve tried bringing Lego bricks, experiment kits, and all manner of bobs and bits. Nothing helps.”

“I am sure you have done everything you can, Tattle. Let’s get going to the house and see if Figgy and I can take a crack at the problem.” Pixie grabbed Tattle by the hand and off they flew.

When they peered through the window upon reaching the house, all three elves gulped.  They saw Terry busy at work on what used to be a large television.

“Is that…the screen?” whispered Pixie, pointing to a shiny grayish sheet cracked and shattered on the floor.

“I think so,” said Figgy.

“Uh oh,” said Tattle.

Before Figgy and Pixie could ask, a tall and imposing woman came striding into the room, the look on her face so furious even Santa would quaver under her gaze.

“Terrence Bartholomew Thompson!”

The small boy simply looked up from his project and looked at his mom with a guilty expression.

“Sorry, Mom. I really thought I could get it all back together this time.”

“To your room, now!” She sighed in frustration as she followed Terry up the stairs.

“See,” said Tattle. “This is what I’ve been dealing with.”

Pixie and Figgy sat silently pondering. It was clear that Terry loved to work with his hands and build things. But how to get him to stop taking things apart first?

And then, like a bright, twinkling star, Pixie had it.

“Figgy, do you have the emergency bag on you?”

“Pixie, I always have the emergency bag on me. No way would I leave the Pole without it. No way would I ever, ever, EVER forget it. Especially not since tha–.”

“Great!” interrupted Pixie. “Let me have it. I know exactly what we need. Figgy, you and Tattle clean up the TV mess while I find what I’m looking for and then we’ll meet back here.

While Figgy and Tattle zipped around cleaning up the electronics mess, Pixie rifled through the Emergency Bag and found the item they needed. “A-Ha!”

Figgy looked up and bee-lined back to Pixie, followed closely by Tattle.

“The Gingerbread House!” Figgy clapped his hands and smiled.

Tattle’s face fell. “I’ve already tried The Gingerbread House. It kept him busy for an hour.”

Pixie grinned. “Yes, but were all the pieces whole?”

Tattle cocked his head to the side. “Whole?”

“Yes. Because if the pieces were all whole and unbroken, it wouldn’t take him all that long to slap the walls together, right? But…” she raised the boxed gingerbread house high above her head and–SMASH–it hit the ground with a soft crack of gingerbread . “If it is all in pieces, it will take longer and be more interesting for Terry to build! He can make his own creation just like he tries to do with the couch. And the tv. And the toaster. And–well, you get the point.”

Terry blinked.

Figgy clapped him on the back. “Just leave it to good ol’ Pixie!”

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“What else did he say?” Pixie asked Nim after he’d finished telling them about the ‘talking to’ Santa gave him for the previous night’s shenanigans.

“Well, he’s not happy, but I did think I saw a little twinkle in his eye and I know his lips twitched.”

“So…we’re not in trouble?”

“Oh, he’ll have to reprimand us somewhat, if only to save face in front of Elven Resources. But, I think he is secretly glad we ‘fixed’ Merry as he put it.”

“Plus,” said Lil as she landed beside Nim. We think he may have engineered it that we ‘help’ Merry.”

Figgy and Pixie giggled.

“Where are you two off to tonight?” asked Nim.

“We are going to the Jones’ house to help Jingle with five competitive and rambunctious kids,” said Figgy.

“Yes,” added Pixie. “She is apparently having difficulty keeping them from destroying their house. It sounds like they are rather…energetic.”

“Well, good luck!” said Lil.

“And, have fun!” said Nim.

Pixie and Figgy jumped into the air and headed off to meet Jingle at the Jones’ house.

* * * *

They gazed around the kitchen in shock. Games and toys were strewn everywhere, confetti and glitter on the counters and a half-finished game of monopoly had exploded all over the table.

“Where do you think Jingle is?” asked Figgy. “I thought she was going to meet us here.”

HEEELP!!

“Did you hear that?” asked Pixie.

“HEEEEEEEEEEEEEEELP!!!”

“Where is it coming from asked Figgy?”

HEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEP!!!!

Concerned at the frantic tone of that last cry for help, Pixie and Figgy raced around the room looking for the source of the terrified scream.

“Found her! She’s over here!” called Figgy.

When Pixie caught up with Figgy, she gasped at the state of the poor elf. Until, that is, she saw that Jingle was laughing. Hysterically, and perfectly at ease in the Tupperware container of cheesy snowballs.

“Oh thank goodness you guys are here! I need your help!” She threw a snowball at them.

“You seem…ok to me,” said Pixie.

“Me? Oh, yes I’m fine. But these kids are SOOOO energetic, that I have already gone through all the activities I had planned for the season! I could really use a little help coming up with more.”

Figgy and Pixie smiled. Nim and Lil had come to their rescue many times when they’d first started and didn’t really know what to do, or had run out of good ideas. Now, it was their turn to help.

“Ok, Jingle,” said Pixie. “What have you done so far?”

“Let’s see. I set up an obstacle course. Sledding down the stairs. Snowball fight. Floor is lava. That sort of thing.”

“Sounds like the Jingles like more active activities. Have you tried Minute-to-Win-It games?” asked Figgy.

“Minute-to-Win-It games?” asked Jingle. “What are those?”

“What are they?” asked Pixie.

“Only the most fun games on the planet!” said Figgy.

“Here, we’ll show you.”

Pixie helped Jingle out of the snowballs and led her to the living room where they spent several hours brainstorming games for Jingle to play with the Jones. A game or two for every night until Christmas.

“Thanks you two!” said Jingle. “You two should write a book with ideas like this for other Mischief Makers who get stuck in the same old, same old ideas.”

Jingle waved as Figgy and Pixie flew back to the North Pole thinking about Jingle’s idea and wondering…

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Pixie and Figgy watched as Glitter went galloping across the North Pole, making a straight shot to Santa’s Workshop.

“Something must be wrong,” said Figgy and he and Pixie joined Nim and Lil swooping after Glitter.

When they entered the workshop, they knew immediately who was causing the alarm.

“Oh,” said Figgy, sounding annoyed. “It’s just Merry…again.”

Pixie sighed. “I wonder what it is this time.”

Lil shook her head. “She’s probably complaining about her kid again. You should have heard her the other night. ‘She finds me too fast, I don’t know what to do.’ Well, stop hiding in plain site for starters.”

Nim dropped his voice to a whisper. “Well, I heard from Tink, who got it from Shimmer, that on the first night, she refused to go at kick-off because she just realized that she was afraid of heights.”

“Erm, she’s a Mischief Maker, how can she possibly be afraid of heights? Flying is in our blood!”

They quieted down as Santa made his way toward them with Merry following close behind. A small smirk on her face.

“Figgy, Pixie, just the two I am looking for.”

Nim and Lil, sensing danger, started to slowly back away.

“Not so fast you two,” Santa chortled. “I’d like you all to be in on this project.”

“But, Sir,” began Figgy. “We have a very special assignment tonight and really should get back to planning.”

“Oh the Carlsons can wait. Between the five of us, I have my doubts that it actually is a B.R.A.T.T. house. Flip and Pip are such pranksters that my guess is they were laying a trap for you two anyway.”

“Of course, Santa,” said Pixie with a resigned expression. “How can we be of help?”

“Wonderful! I knew I could count on the four of you,” said Santa with a twinkle in his eye. “I’ll let Merry here explain what is going on. I need to get back to the electronics department. Apparently, our game testers are getting a little too competitive.”

With a twinkle in his eye, Santa left.

“So, Merry. What’s going on?” Figgy asked.

“Well, you know, Mischief Making takes so much energy. I’m just exhausted, like all the time. So, I thought you guys could, you know, take over for a night or two. Or, even the rest of the season, if it’s no trouble.”

Merry’s eyes sparkled with cunning.

“Merry,” said Lil impatiently. “You know very well that all of the Mischief Makers are expending maximum energy making this season memorable for their charges. Do you really think you deserve special treatment just because you’re a little tired??”

“And just because your father is the head of Elven Resources,” Pixie muttered.

Merry just smiled and gazed at them smugly.

“Ok, Merry,” said Figgy with a smile. “We’d be happy to help you out.”

Pixie, Lil, Nim and Merry looked at Figgy in shock.

“We will?” asked Nim.

“Of course,” continued Figgy. “We are always willing to lend a fellow Mischief Maker a hand. And, afterall, this is what BRATT is for, right Pixie?”

Pixie noticed Figgy’s eyebrows dancing and smiled. “Yes, Figgy. You are absolutely correct. We are here for all BRATTs.”

Nim and Lil grinned, finally catching on and wondering just what Figgy had in store for Merry.

* * *

“Ok, ok!” squealed Merry. “I don’t think I really need your help, you guys can just go!”

Lil and Pixie held Merry by the legs while attaching a bungee cord to her waist at stair railing in the Martin’s entryway. They had long since abandoned any pretense that they were actually there to help Merry.

“Come on, Merry!” Figgy called from his bouncing bungee. “The air is fine down here and it’s—BOOOIIING—FUN!!!

“Woo-hoo!” Nim swung by Figgy, giving him a high five.

“But,” stammered Merry. “I’m afraid of heights!”

“No you’re not,” said Lil. “We all know that is just something you made up to get out of Mischief Making.”

“Yeah,” added Pixie. “Now get down there and have some fun!”

Pixie and Lil took great pleasure in pushing Merry off the ledge and felt only a small tingle of guilt.

“You know,” said Lil as Merry screamed on the way down. “We don’t really know if she was lying about the heights fear.”

“Meh,” said Pixie. “Either this cures her fear, or her laziness. It’s all the same in my book.”

Lil laughed and whole-heartedly agreed.

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“Pixie, Figgy, over here!” Lil called from across the Elfateria.

Pixie and Figgy zoomed over to Lil who sat with her arm around a tired and worried looking elf.

“What’s going on Lil?” Figgy asked.

“Well, this is Biscotti and she has a litt–.”

“Erin doesn’t like me,” said Biscotti.

“I’m sure that isn’t true,” assured Pixie automatically. “Er, who’s Erin?”

“Yeah, who is this ‘Erin’ and why doesn’t she like elves?” asked Figgy.

“Erin is Biscotti’s charge,” said Lil. “And I’m quite certain she has nothing against elves. Go on, tell them what you were telling me.”

“Well, she won’t eat any of the treats I leave, or play any of the games I set up.”

“She doesn’t even try the treats?” asked Pixie.

“Well,” said Biscotti. “She nibbles. A sprinkle here. A chocolate chip there. But then, she just plays with her food.”

Figgy shivered. “I have heard of kids not eating their brussels sprouts – blech – but to turn down treats? This is new territory.”

“What have you tried so far, Biscotti?” asked Pixie.

“First night, hot cocoa bar of course.”

“Ah. The standard opener,” said Figgy.

“But I really went all out. Marshmallows, candy cane stir sticks, 5 different flavors of whipped cream, and all the sprinkles.”

“That sounds delicious!” said Lil.

“I thought so, but Erin ate one sprinkle and then used everything else to build a giant marshmallow castle with candy cane pillars and sprinkle shingles.”

“Wow, that sounds impressive!” said Pixie.

“It was,” Biscotti huffed. “But that’s not the point!”

“Of course,” said Pixie.

“But, did you think to snap a picture?” asked Figgy.

Flames fairly shot from Biscotti’s eyes in response.

“Er, nevermind.”

“Next night, I set up a make-your-own-smore bar. I even had a little flameless fire that actually roasted the marshmallows.”

“Whoa,” said Figgy.

“Yeah, but Erin built a small graham cracker cottage out of the materials. This time, the shingles were chocolate squares.”

“Biscotti,” said Pixie. “I’m hearing a theme.”

“A theme?”

“Yes. Erin seems very interested in building and creating.”

Biscotti stared blankly at Pixie.

“The marshmallow castle, smores cottage …”.

“I think you might be on to something, Pixie,” interrupted Figgy.

“I think, that maybe, Erin has been enjoying everything you have set up. Maybe, just not in the way you’d intended, Biscotti.”

“Really?” Biscotti’s eyes began to sparkle. “Do you really think this is all just one big misunderstanding?”

“It usually is,” said Figgy knowledgeably.

“Well, there’s only one way to find out!” said Lil.

***

The three elves flew swiftly to Erin’s house and peered in through the dining room window.

“Coast is clear.” Figgy started forward.

“Wait!” Biscotti pulled him back and just in time. A small, red-haired girl came zooming into the dining room with a popsicle stick creation to show her mom.

“Mommy, mommy! I need more popsicle sticks to build my chateau!”

“We’ll have to get them at the store tomorrow sweetie, it’s bed time.”

As they watched Erin’s mom take her upstairs, Biscotti giggled. “I know what to do tonight!”

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Pixie and Figgy landed outside the Smith’s home and pulled out the file they’d just received.

“Santa said this was an emergency case?” asked Figgy.

“Yes, he said he wanted us to make it top priority tonight so I asked Nim and Lil to cover the Haroldson’s,” said Pixie.

“Awe, that’s too bad,” said Figgy. “I was looking forward to that one.”

Pixie glanced at him. “You were?”

“Oh yeah! Pip said it was the parents who were the B.R.A.T.T.’s. It’s not every season an elf gets to pull pranks on the parents.”

“It’s not?” Pixie asked. “I mean, isn’t that what we normally do? Every season?”

Figgy contemplated that thought. “Oh, I guess you’re right. But still, it would have been fun.”

Pixie smiled, returning her attention to the file. “Ok, well, it’s not the kids who are a problem here either. It says here that Spunky has a little too much spunk. Let’s see…died toilet water green, well, that’s not too bad…then, shaving cream on faces…goldfish in beds, and…oh boy.”

“What?” asked Figgy.

Pixie cleared her throat. “Er…it seems as though Spunky has gotten himself in quite the bind. Here, look.”

Pixie handed him the folder and pointed to the paragraph she’d just read.

“Yikes!” exclaimed Figgy. “Do you think he really filled the parent’s bed with bed bugs? Real bed bugs?”

“Based on the complaint letter on the second page, I’d say it’s more than a possibility.”

Figgy flipped to the letter:

Santa, or whoever is in charge of this so-called elf,

Please consider this a formal complaint with a promise of legal action if this behavior does not change, and fast! We wrote complaints several times last season and were assured that Spunky’s behavior would improve this year. That there would be consequences for his seriously destructive shenanigans.

We thought we had made clear our indignation at the goldfish in the beds and the vinegar in the milk, but this is way beyond what we will tolerate. Our kids’ pleas are only reason we are giving him another chance. One more incident even remotely destructive, and you can expect to hear from our lawyers. Destruction of property is not mischievous, it’s illegal!

Sincerely angry and fed up,

Fred and Molly Smith

“Whoa,” said Figgy. “What can we do?”

“Let’s start by finding Spunky before he does any more damage.”

As it turned out, it was easy to find Spunky. They flew in to the kitchen and found him sitting in the refrigerator drinking maple syrup from a straw and looking downcast. 

“Hey there, Spunky,” said Figgy. “What’s wrong?”

“Oh. Hi.” He gave a heavy sigh.

“Figgy,” whispered Pixie. “Does he look…familiar?”

Figgy looked closer at Spunky and gasped. “You’re not, you can’t be related to—“.

“The Grinch?” asked Spunky. “Yes. I’m his second cousin. Twice removed.”

“Oh,” said Figgy.

“Yeah,” sighed Spunky. “When people look at me, they assume I’m just like him. But I’m not. I like Christmas. I just don’t understand why everyone can’t see that.”

“Spunky,” began Pixie. “Perhaps it’s the way you…express your, er, joy.”

Spunky looked at Pixie in confusion. “Huh?”

“Well,” she continued. “Most elves who like Christmas do things like, decorate with lights and tinsel. Not with spiders and bed bugs.”

Spunky looked unsure. “Really? But bed bugs are funny.”

“Not really,” said Figgy.

“The ones I know are. Amos told the funniest joke last night and Larry can do the best moth impression I’ve ever seen.”

“Um, that’s—what?” Pixie asked.

“Anyway,” said Figgy. “Let us help you find other ways to show your Christmas spirit. Ways that won’t get you relegated to Deer Dung Duty.”

“Ok,” said Spunky. “I guess I’m willing to try anything.”

Pixie and Figgy spent the next few hours creating a list of appropriate and approved Mischief Maker activities. When they were done, Spunky still looked skeptical, but was at least willing to give their way a try.

“You’re sure these mustaches will make them laugh?” he asked as he struggled to place a mustache on the cat. I mean, they didn’t laugh at the bed bugs, and those were hilarious.”

“Trust us,” said Pixie. “This is a classic.”

Spunky still looked uncertain, but Figgy’s smile and nod of encouragement seemed to settle his doubts.

“Bed bugs are funny?” Pixie shook her head as she and Figgy zoomed back to the North Pole. “And I thought I’d heard it all!”

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“See,” Hinkle, Tommy’s elf, whispered. “This is what I deal with every night!”

Pixie, Figgy, Nim and Lil watched from the window sill as Tommy threw the worst temper tantrum anyone had ever seen.

Books went flying, stuffed animals lost their stuffing, and Tommy’s rage filled the small home.

“Certainly not every night?” said Nim.

“I’ve been trapped, drowned, kicked across the room and everything you can think of.”

“Kicked?” asked Figgy.

Hinkle nodded.

“Drowned?” gasped Lil.

Hinkle nodded.

“Trapped?” said Pixie.

“Yes,” said Hinkle. “And everything else you can think of. My magic has been restored so many times that Dr. Stuffins says I’m in danger of losing it completely.”

“Well,” said Nim. “Then this is Tommy’s very last chance.”

“Yes,” agreed Figgy. “One more mishap and he’s done. For good.”

Quickly, while Tommy’s mother was hauling a kicking and screaming boy off to bed, Hinkle led Pixie, Figgy, Nim, and Lil into the living room.

“How are we going to fix him?” Hinkle asked, wringing his hands.

Nim stretched his shoulders and cracked his knuckles. “Let’s do the old one-two strike.”

Lil nodded. “Yes! One, a song encouraging him to behave.”

“Two,” said Nim. “A stern warning about the repercussions if he doesn’t change his ways.”

Pixie and Figgy tried, very hard, not to roll their eyes and laugh. But…in the end, they lost the battle.

“What?” asked Nim and Lil.

“That may have worked back when you two were in the trenches,” said Pixie. “But the kids have changed. Threats no longer work.”

Figgy nodded. “Now, action is the only solution for this sort of atrocious behavior.”

“Geez,” said Nim. “It’s not like it’s been that long since we were in the field.”

“Yes.” Lil sounded hurt. “It’s only been a season or two, and we still come out to help. Like tonight.”

Cowed, Figgy and Pixie rushed to assure them. “Oh, that’s not what we meant! It’s just, I’m sure Hinkle has tried all of the old ways of improving behavior.”

“And,” added Figgy. “What we need is to try something new.”

Slightly mollified, Nim and Lil looked at Hinkle.

“Well,” he said. “Yes, I have tried the usual routes. A song. A poem. A letter to Santa. Their behavior may have improved slightly, but on the whole, nothing has changed.”

Pixie smiled. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking, Figgy?”

Figgy rubbed his hands together. “That we should freeze all of Tommy’s socks and underwear?”

“What?! No! I was thinking we should have a little sale.”

“Oh,” said Figgy. “Yes, I suppose that would work as well. Not quite as fun. But I’m sure it will do the job just the same.”

“Sale?” asked Nim. “What kind of sale?”

“A garage sale of sorts,” said Pixie.

“We’ll sticker all of Tommy’s toys and put them for sale in the living room.”

Pixie turned to Hinkle. “Does he have any favorite toys we should start with?”

Hinkle smiled slowly, and a little disturbingly. “Oh yes. We can start with his stuffed animal collection.”

Not quite liking Hinkle’s expression, Nim asked, “Why the animals?”

“They attacked me on the first night.”

“Come again?” said Lil.

“Tommy had them all in a net, and when I entered his room, they rained down on me like some plush, squishy rainstorm. It was terrifying.”

“Stuffed animals it is!” said Figgy.

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“I’m still not sure why you need me to come along as well,” grumbled Glitter as she followed Pixie and Figgy through the sky to their next assignment.

“We told you, Glitter,” said Pixie patiently. “We need you to carry the…equipment.”

“What ‘equipment’?” asked Glitter suspiciously.

“Oh, you know,” said Figgy. “The treats, snacks, prizes, shrinking machine. That sort of thing.”

“Oh balderdash. You two are perfectly capable of carrying—shrinking machine?”

A rather small, bedraggled looking elf popped his head around the window sill. “Hello.”

Glitter turned, startled, to face him.

“Hey, Fred,” said Pixie. “Are you ready?”

“Yep! I can’t wait to get started.”

“What,” asked Glitter. “Exactly, do we need a shrinking machine for?”

“Oh it was Figgy’s idea,” said Fred. “You see, Sam, my kid, has a big problem and shrinking is the perfect solution!”

Glitter’s eyebrows reached the sky.

“We’d better start at the beginning,” said Pixie, trying, and failing to stifle a laugh at Glitter’s expression.

“Oh,” said Fred nodding to Glitter. “Right. You’re new.”

“Excuse me?” said Glitter in icy tones. “I am not new, young elf. I’ve been at this for years!”

“Oh, I didn’t mean–. That is to say—.”

“It’s ok, Fred,” interrupted Figgy. “Glitter is just a little grumpy because we pulled her away from…what is it you are doing, Glitter? Closeted away with Mrs. C.?”

Glitter took a deep, calming breath. She straightened her hooves and shook out her antlers. “Ok. Tell me what is going on with this house and why, on earth, we need a shrinking machine.”

“Fred, go ahead,” urged Pixie.

Fred smiled. “Well, as I mentioned, Sam, my kid, has a big problem. He can’t seem to stop lying.”

“Lying?” Glitter asked. “About what?”

“Everything.”

Glitter glanced at Figgy and Pixie who nodded.

Fred continued. “Sam Finnegan has a lying problem. He lies to his parents about messes he makes. He lies to his teachers about homework he’s not done. He makes up fantastical stories about things that…never happened to him.”

“So,” Pixie jumped in. “We’ve decided that rather than punish him, we’ll give him fodder for stories.”

When Glitter did not look convinced, Figgy added. “We are hoping to turn his energy from lying to storytelling.”

“How is that different?” asked Glitter.

“Oh it’s very different,” said Pixie. “Lying is hurtful. Storytelling is entertaining.”

“We are giving him a creative outlet,” finished Fred.

Glitter slowly nodded. “It seems you’ve already come up with a plan, so what do you need me, and the shrinking machine for?”

“We need a list of story ideas for Sam and thought you would have some great prompts from your time at Reindeer Training Camp, and–.”

Glitter interrupted Figgy. “And you were hoping you could find out what I’ve been doing with Mrs. C?”

Figgy blushed. “Well. Yes. We were thinking you might confide in us if we got you away from the North Pole.”

Glitter shook her head and brayed. “Not going to happen, Figgy.”

Figgy and Pixie sighed.

“And, the shrinking machine?”

“Ah,” said Pixie. “That is for the first story prompt. Come on, let’s get inside.”

The elves and reindeer flew into the kitchen, landing lightly on the table. Pixie pulled a box of cookies from her bag while Figgy and Fred set the shrinking machine up.

“Ok, ready for the Christmas Magic!” said Fred.

The three elves worked together, sprinkling magical dust over the machine while Glitter jotted down several story prompts to leave with the cookies.

They hauled a cookie over and watched as it went in one side, a big cookie, and came out the other, a tiny cookie.

“It worked!” shouted Fred.

“Of course it did,” said Figgy. “We’re elves, Fred.”

Pixie giggled.

Glitter could not help but smile as well…until she noticed the time.

“Oh deer! I have to go!”

Without a backward glance, leaving papers flying in her wake, Glitter rushed out the window and flew into the stars.