Milk and a Mission

Milk and a Mission

The crisp, cold northern wind whips around the decorative eaves and gables of Santa’s Village at the North Pole. Like shining Christmas ornaments, the opulent spires glisten in the full moonlight. Santa’s Village is in every way whimsical and magical, but a closer look reveals the complex to also be the strategic stronghold of Mr. Kris C. Kringle. One enamored with the illustrious gates to the village may miss the boiling hot chocolate moat over which the draw bridge lies. Someone marveling at the great ice walls may miss the flaming marshmallow cannons that are scattered along the parapets. The magic that brings happiness to boys and girls every year is greatly coveted and must be protected at all costs. And moonlighting as a bounty hunter doesn’t exactly help with making friends either, quite the opposite in fact. Santa only has one rule when it comes to bounty hunting, the hunted must be on his naughty list. And if they call for Santa to collect a bounty, it’s definitely one of the naughtiest.

Despite the sub-zero whistling wind outside, the interior of Santa’s mansion is warm and cozy. A beautiful Christmas tree is the centerpiece of the room, adorned with a litany of multicolored ornaments. A fire blazes in the fireplace and hand-knitted stockings hang from the mantle. Santa sits at his desk in front of the large bay window, looking out over the frozen tundra lit up in the bright moonlight. He furrows his brow as he flips through a manila file folder stamped “NAUGHTY.” 

“There, that’s the one,” says Santa, pulling the picture out of the file. He looks at the picture briefly, then tosses the picture onto the desk before unlocking a drawer on his desk and opening it slightly. He reaches in to grab a cookie. However, this was no ordinary cookie.

“Hey get your big jolly mitts off me,” spits the Gingerbeard Man. 

“You’ve been one tough cookie,” replies Santa, “You can tell me what I need to know and all this unpleasantness will end.”

“I won’t tell you anything,” screams the Gingerbeard Man, “Every year you feast on my brothers and sisters… YOU’RE A MONSTER.”

Santa grabs the cookie and holds him over his stein, filled with nice cool milk.

“We can do this the easy way or the hard way,” warns Santa.

The Gingerbeard Man glares on in silence and so Santa dunks his head under the milk. Bubbles churn in the milk, along with the occasional exclamation. After several seconds, Santa eventually pulls the Gingerbeard Man gasping out of the milk.

“Tell me about the Blizzard,” growls Claus menacingly.

“Okay, okay,” cries the Gingerbeard man. Small streams of icing running down his face and little hairline fissures becoming visible. “I’ll tell you what I know, just please don’t eat me.”


Narrated by Brandon Warner

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