Six hours. Time’s up. Jolly imagined smacking Bart and bared his teeth like a dog protecting a bone. Wasted time. Too much time wasted as it was, and now they found themselves even further behind. Jolly left the stable and waddled back to the office of Saint Nicholas. This time things needed to happen. No more of this wait and see garbage.    Throwing open the door, he marched into the room as he burst out a yell like a deep belch, “Bart!”

 Bart didn’t even look at Jolly, and he continued to talk on the phone. The points of Jolly’s ear burned and waddled to the desk Bart sat behind. Still, Bart continued to ignore Jolly. The teeth, small and white, showed as the obese elf pounded his fist against the fir desk. “Bart! Hang up the figgy pudding phone!&rdq...

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