overworked elves and Santa near exhaustion are “complete balderdash.” Cane recently granted an exclusive powwow with yours truly. Here is a transcript of that interview.
Jubilee: So, Cane, what can you tell me about this charge of overworked elves?
Cane: Please call me Candy. I find it much sweeter, don’t you?
Jubilee: How is Santa’s health? The scuttlebutt is that you’re working elves’ fingers down to nubs. What gives?
Cane: Truth be told, elves’ fingers are already nubs. That’s a joke, Miss Jubilee, no reason to glower so! Although, I must say the fire in your eyes is positively radiant!
Jubilee: Listen, daisy, if you don’t give me the square right now, I’m gonna use this pen to let a little daylight into that noodle of yours. Start jawing before you learn just how much mightier the pen is over the sword.
Cane: Business before pleasure, eh? Very well. Several weeks ago, I dismantled the entire Coal Patrol organization. I found the practices barbaric and without mercy, so I proposed to Santa that we concentrate on giving children, all children, something for Christmas, regardless of their behavior. We feel that if children know they are loved, and these gifts are a reflection of love, they will behave accordingly.
Jubilee: But some elves think—
Cane: What I tell them to think, Miss Jubilee.
Jubilee: Aren’t you putting a lot of extra work on Santa and the elves?
Cane: In the short term, yes, but actually, many of the elves are quite happy to work harder toward making this the best Christmas ever.
Jubilee: I hear Santa’s losing weight. Why haven’t we seen him?
Cane: Oh, he’s quite busy. And I can assure you that the Fat Man’s belly shakes like a bowl full of jelly.
Jubilee: What’s Xanadu?
Cane: I happened to name the system that lets me review the quality of each toy after my estate.
Jubilee: Those reviews must keep you pretty busy.
Cane: I suppose, but I have a big appetite for work. I was thinking of buying The Marshmallow World Gazette . I think it would be fun to own a newspaper or two. Would you work for me, Miss Jubilee?
Jubilee: I don’t think you’d like it. I bite.
Cane: I wouldn’t mind that at all.
The article didn’t bother me. Much. I was a little sore, though, about how Cane took a sledgehammer to the Coal Patrol I had built. I was sure he was telling a tall one about Santa’s health, but I also knew there was nothing you were going to do to change St. Nick once his mind was made up. This new approach was just going to have to run its course and, in the end, Santa would decide if giving toys to every kid was right and fair. My mind was made up about that too. And I decided not to try and read between the lines on the subject of Cane and Rosebud. If she wanted to hang her stockings at Candy Cane manor, let her. What was it to me? Nothing, that’s what.
In fact, the article didn’t bother me as much as missing Dingleberry. After our pretend dustup a few days ago, we went our separate ways so he wouldn’t get in Dutch with Cane. Plus, if Dingleberry knew what I had been up to, it would have broken his heart. In Ding’s eyes, my behavior would be about as far from hero George as you could get, so I tried not to think about how much Dingleberry would hate my new job.
Instead, I tried to think on the good I was doing. After I fixed Raymond Hall’s little red wagon, I turned invisible so I could hear what he said to Little Ray. Raymond took a giant step toward fatherhood. Not only did he give Little Ray a good talking-to that night, he followed up on it. Raymond made sure Little Ray minded, and was even trying to lead by example. Raymond was opening doors for old ladies, serving soup at the shelter and keeping his hands to himself. The boy noticed the change in his old man and was on the straight and narrow. My plan was working, so I got busy checking a few more off the Naughty Alumni List.
My next target was Octavia Dellora Mercedes Sprague. The stork did
Jubilee: So, Cane, what can you tell me about this charge of overworked elves?
Cane: Please call me Candy. I find it much sweeter, don’t you?
Jubilee: How is Santa’s health? The scuttlebutt is that you’re working elves’ fingers down to nubs. What gives?
Cane: Truth be told, elves’ fingers are already nubs. That’s a joke, Miss Jubilee, no reason to glower so! Although, I must say the fire in your eyes is positively radiant!
Jubilee: Listen, daisy, if you don’t give me the square right now, I’m gonna use this pen to let a little daylight into that noodle of yours. Start jawing before you learn just how much mightier the pen is over the sword.
Cane: Business before pleasure, eh? Very well. Several weeks ago, I dismantled the entire Coal Patrol organization. I found the practices barbaric and without mercy, so I proposed to Santa that we concentrate on giving children, all children, something for Christmas, regardless of their behavior. We feel that if children know they are loved, and these gifts are a reflection of love, they will behave accordingly.
Jubilee: But some elves think—
Cane: What I tell them to think, Miss Jubilee.
Jubilee: Aren’t you putting a lot of extra work on Santa and the elves?
Cane: In the short term, yes, but actually, many of the elves are quite happy to work harder toward making this the best Christmas ever.
Jubilee: I hear Santa’s losing weight. Why haven’t we seen him?
Cane: Oh, he’s quite busy. And I can assure you that the Fat Man’s belly shakes like a bowl full of jelly.
Jubilee: What’s Xanadu?
Cane: I happened to name the system that lets me review the quality of each toy after my estate.
Jubilee: Those reviews must keep you pretty busy.
Cane: I suppose, but I have a big appetite for work. I was thinking of buying The Marshmallow World Gazette . I think it would be fun to own a newspaper or two. Would you work for me, Miss Jubilee?
Jubilee: I don’t think you’d like it. I bite.
Cane: I wouldn’t mind that at all.
The article didn’t bother me. Much. I was a little sore, though, about how Cane took a sledgehammer to the Coal Patrol I had built. I was sure he was telling a tall one about Santa’s health, but I also knew there was nothing you were going to do to change St. Nick once his mind was made up. This new approach was just going to have to run its course and, in the end, Santa would decide if giving toys to every kid was right and fair. My mind was made up about that too. And I decided not to try and read between the lines on the subject of Cane and Rosebud. If she wanted to hang her stockings at Candy Cane manor, let her. What was it to me? Nothing, that’s what.
In fact, the article didn’t bother me as much as missing Dingleberry. After our pretend dustup a few days ago, we went our separate ways so he wouldn’t get in Dutch with Cane. Plus, if Dingleberry knew what I had been up to, it would have broken his heart. In Ding’s eyes, my behavior would be about as far from hero George as you could get, so I tried not to think about how much Dingleberry would hate my new job.
Instead, I tried to think on the good I was doing. After I fixed Raymond Hall’s little red wagon, I turned invisible so I could hear what he said to Little Ray. Raymond took a giant step toward fatherhood. Not only did he give Little Ray a good talking-to that night, he followed up on it. Raymond made sure Little Ray minded, and was even trying to lead by example. Raymond was opening doors for old ladies, serving soup at the shelter and keeping his hands to himself. The boy noticed the change in his old man and was on the straight and narrow. My plan was working, so I got busy checking a few more off the Naughty Alumni List.
My next target was Octavia Dellora Mercedes Sprague. The stork did
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