Manny worked toy assembly for
almost 100 years, but was still lacking the seniority needed to request a
transfer. Most of his confederates had
been promoted without benefit of seniority to the plusher jobs of sorting,
wrapping and loading. But Manny suffered
what in his mind could only be discrimination.
Like every other elf, he had
started off working in a southern plant cataloging names and GPS coordinates,
sometimes working with the women in the paint shops, once he spent three shifts
in the mine with a jackhammer. The work
excited him, but the North Pole promotion was all he ever wanted.
The day he received notice to
report to headquarters was the greatest day of his life, or so he thought until
he arrived at vast complex of workshops.
All through school, during his apprenticeship and journeyman stints, he
was considered the best of the best.
Never once was there a bad grade or a disparaging remark on one of his
performance evaluations, so he had come to think of himself as a
super-performer with above average intelligence, and remarkably diverse
abilities. The problem was that everyone
who made the trip north was of like ability, intellect and talent. Manny became one of ten thousand other elfin
workers with no way to set himself apart from the others; the once “big fish”
was now only a non-descript guppy in an ocean of other guppies.
Disappointment breeds
dissatisfaction which in turn breeds despair.
Manny quickly lost his innate elfin humor and instinctive smile. His work never suffered from the depression
that ate at his diminutive heart, and drained the life from his soul. The last century of monotonous averages had
drained him of the ability to enjoy even the great Feast of the Sleigh. His participation in the social and sexual
cotillions had become more of a labor than the festive relief and generational
procreative events that they were intended to be. His last three concubines had failed to
conceive during the week-long coital dances.
This added to his deepening sense of insignificance and futility.
The only times that Manny felt any
of his old self begin to stir was when he secretly binged on cookies and fudge
and laced his cocoa with Irish whiskey. Unfortunately
what started as an emotional crutch became a habit and then an addiction. His secret diet began to take effect on his
body; first his face became puffy often reddened with hypertensive blush, then his
weight blossomed adding inches upon inches to his once tiny elfin waist
line. As his addiction worsened, he
became more and more isolated from the other workers, taking breaks hidden in corners
where the smell of the sugar rich snacks and alcohol laden drink would not be
noticed. The more recluse and rotund Manny
became, the more his personal hygiene suffered.
He allowed his hair to grow long and without the regimen of perms and
dyes, his locks became wavy tresses of unkempt gray. He retired his razor and shaving mug letting
his facial hair grow as disheveled as the hair on his head. The once proud elf had morphed into an arctic
derelict.
It was during the midsummer coital
cotillion that Manny wandered near the genetics lab where they modified young reindeer
to fly and luminesce their noses, nearly blind drunk, he never saw the normal
size humans approach from his right. The
abduction was swift and violent; Manny would never have had a chance to resist
even if he was able.
The lights of the hospital
examination room blinded the middle-aged elf.
A sea of strange humans was busily measuring his height, weight, girth
and body fat index while Manny laid helplessly strapped to a gurney. Someone started an IV through a port in the
top of his left hand. He watched as the
clear liquid snaked its way through the clear tubes and entered his veins. A unexpected transformation instantly overcame
the hapless elf. His ordinarily clouded
thoughts reached a clarity that he had never known in the past. He was then flooded with infinite memories
and experiences of lives he never lived; he reeled with the sudden revelations
of talents and accomplishments never known before that instant. His body shuttered and then relaxed. The human
attendants released the restraints and helped Manny to sit upright. The strange tall people that were once his
captors, were now his saviors.
The tallest of the female humans
stepped forward and took his right hand.
“You will never again drink alcohol, but the effects will take some time
to work out of your system. Are you
feeling, okay?”
Her words were not the language of
the North Pole, but he understood her perfectly. What came as no surprise was that he could
answer her in that same foreign tongue. “I
feel fine, although I do have the shakes pretty bad. If you don’t mind me asking, where am I and
why did you bring me here?”
“We have been waiting a long time
for the change to take place. You have
much to learn in the next six months, so we had better get started.”
The explanation that followed
answered questions asked by children the world over. Manny became Santa #4,258,165 with the
responsibility for the villages of the Pyrenees Basque Country. The impossible task of delivering toys to the
children of the world was never left to one supernatural Santa Claus with a supercharged
sleigh and bottomless sack, but to an army of elfin mutants driving genetically
altered reindeer. Merry Christmas, and I
bet you never knew where baby elves came from.
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