Let me tell you, this was a sad sight. I tried to interview the deflated jolly old elf. "I was doing okay when it was just kids," panted the famous man-in-red. "This crap with over-gifting grown children has to stop!" He seemed bitter. "Yeah, ya know everyone thinks this stuff gets done by a team of us. Not so. Father Christmas drinks himself under the table every Christmas Eve, and Kris Kringle's got nothing much to do but put fruit and odd bits of nuts in wooden shoes. Let me tell you, in the old days they all had their wooden shoes out on the balcony, so at least he was making the appearance of covering his territory. Now, who's got even one wooden shoe? They leave their Doc Martin's out but Kringle, he won't touch 'em. Says it's not in his job description." I left the former merry old soul where he lay.
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