From the casebook of Beverly Sweet, owner and proprietor, Beverly Sweet: Cakes for all Occasions.
Part i
ii.
The cab
driver is an elf: middle-aged, golden buckles on his shoes, absurd green hat,
an elf. His name is Mackerel, or so says the laminated ID card posted on the
back of the driver’s seat. Judging from his manner, he enjoys being an elf and
doesn’t care who knows it.
“You must
be just tremendously excited to be here in Santa’s kingdom!”
“Mostly
I’m tired.”
“Yes, so
much excitement can be positively exhausting!” He giggles. “Even after twelve
years living here myself, sometimes I just can’t contain my excitement.”
“That’s
nice.”
“It’s too
bad you’ve missed Christmas. Santa’s kingdom is at its very most magical around
Christmas time! Though of course we’re all very busy then.”
“I
imagine so.”
“You
might be confused about why it’s dark now.”
“I’m
not.”
“Here at
the North Pole, it’s dark six months of the year, all winter long.”
“Yes, I
know that.”
“It’s
January now, so it’s night all the time. Then, during the summer, the sun never
sets! It gets low in the sky sometimes, but then it just heads right back up
again! Can you believe such a thing?”
“Yes. It’s
a well-known fact.” We’re off the main road now—if there is a main road—and it’s
deep black outside. The car’s headlights are a pair of enormous translucent
gumdrops. More whimsical than functional, they cast a pale blue aura over the
falling snowflakes.
“Are all
the cab drivers around here elves?”
“Oh, yes!
Santa loves us all so much he reserves any profession responsible for public
safety for only his very best friends!”
“That’s
you elves?”
“Yes! We
and Santa are ever such good friends!”
“And how
often do you see your friend?”
He
giggles again. “Silly down-worlder! We don’t have to see Santa to be his friends.”
“Sure,
but how often do you see him?” We’ve entered a small town, two-story gingerbread
buildings dim under candy cane street lamps. The elf pauses a long time, like
maybe he’s finished talking.
“You
might be wondering what time it is.”
“I’m not.
I want to know—”
“Here so
close to the North Pole, all the meridians converge. Clock time as you know it
doesn’t even exist! Now what do you think about that?”
“Very
nice, but what I want to know—”
“It’s
every time and no time here in Santa’s kingdom!”
“So if
you’ve never—”
“WE ELVES ARE SANTA’S VERY BEST FRIENDS IN THE WHOLE
WIDE WORLD!” He releases the wheel and looks back over his shoulder to
emphasize the point, a mistake. The taxi jumps the curb. A figure stumbles out
of the darkness in front of the car. His face is visible for an instant, blue
and surprised in the gumdrop headlights.
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