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had merit, but old Gumdrop got full of too much starch for some people’s liking. Coddling kids seems to be the school of thought and unloading a bunch of rocks on a kid is not the message we need to be sending, I guess.” Charles “Candy” Cane will head the Coal Patrol effective immediately. “I am honored with this appointment from Santa,” Candy Cane said. “While discipline is indeed an important buttress of the message we want to convey, I feel the previous administration of this office took things too far. His targets were children, after all, and they, of all beings, should be afforded more compassion and mercy. As my grandmother used to say, ‘Candy, you get a lot more with honey than you do vinegar.’ I look forward to instituting a new standard for influencing naughty children in the future. One with more honey and no vinegar, and certainly no coal.”

Gumdrop Coal could not be reached for comment.

You’re darn tootin’ I couldn’t be reached for comment. I was in no condition to comment. I was perched on the last stool in the dark corner of the Blue Christmas trying on a few cups of cheer. Doubles. Elvis, the Blue Christmas’s garçon, was pouring steady, but I could still feel the bite of Candy Cane’s words and the sting of getting dumped by Santa. Cane had something to prove; he was a real comer. He got in Santa’s ear and the old man listened. I understood that Santa didn’t want to make a kid sad, but I thought my years on Coal Patrol gave me more credit with him. I hurt all over. When I took a second to stop feeling sorry for myself, I noticed good old Dingleberry was there to try and keep me company, but I really just wanted to be alone.

“Why don’t you go home, Dingleberry? I’ll be fine,” I said. “Besides, you don’t want to be seen with the likes of me. It could be a career killer if any of Cane’s minions see you hanging out with the elf who hates kids.”

“No one thinks that, Gumdrop,” Dingleberry said with a smile. He was always with a smile. “And I’m here because you’re my friend. At the end of the day, elves are here to help each other. Cane’s not going to punish me because you’re my friend.”

“You really believe that?”

“I do,” Dingleberry said.

“Huh. Next you’ll be telling me those By George tales are real,” I said. Being the prince that he is, Ding ignored the knock. “I thought I was doing a lot of good, but I guess that’s what I get for thinking,” I said, motioning Elvis to pour me another. Dingleberry shook his head no at the barkeep, but I said, “Ignore him, Elvis. I’m all shook up, but one more cup should steady me.” Dingleberry’s shrug gave Elvis the green light and the little man poured. “You’re a good elf, Elvis,” I said.

“Thank you, thank you very much,” he said, giving me a chuck on the shoulder before he sauntered down to the other end of the bar. Dingleberry and I sat quietly for a moment, but too much silence was heavy on my friend. “It really will be all right, Gumdrop.”

“Will it?” I asked. “The Coal Patrol is all I’ve known for hundreds of years, Dingleberry. It’s all I’ve ever done. We did good work. We taught some kids a lesson.”

“A hard lesson.”

“Those are the only kind worth learning, bub,” I said. “And now it’s over. It’ll end up killing Santa, you watch. Look at him. He’s working himself to the bone pleasing the good kids. Can you imagine how worn out he’s going to be once those greedy little brats realize they can get anything they want? The greed machine will go into high gear.”

“Don’t talk like that,” Dingleberry said. “Santa will be fine.”

“Look at the dark circles around his eyes,” I said. “Already, it looks like he’s wearing a mask. The Fat Man’s losing weight, Dingleberry. He’s wearing stomach padding like a dime store Santa. I bet he don’t weigh eight stones wet. This will be the end of him, I bet you.”

“Can I quote you on that, Uncle?” said a voice behind me. I turned to see Rosebud Jubilee, the pip-squeak reporter from The Marshmallow World Gazette rag. Rosebud was a crackerjack little thing; her red hair was a waterfall of crimson confection and the freckles on her nose and