ALERT: CHOCOLATE MAKES TROLLS SICK

And we should all be very grateful.

'Morning, my flowers:

I got a bulletin from the North Pole (I have connections) warning me that there would be absolutely no fairies available for fairy-lovers this year because someone stole all wing-making materials, including the tools.

Frankly, I thought I would have to make this a sad warning to all that you'd better dust off even the mangiest of treetop fairies since you wouldn't be able to replace them anyway, but I do have some hopeful news. For the moment, anyway.

It was all the elves' fault from the start. They will argue over the silliest things, like whose jack-in-the-box jumps highest for instance. That was the problem this time. And the stupid little creatures took off from their workbenches, where they should have been hard at it given the way time is flying, to hold a jack-in-the-box jumping contest up on the reindeer practice tracks.

Well, guess what?

That caused Santa to leave his post to look for them and since his polar bear was in the castle kitchens helping Mrs. Clause with the popcorn balls, not a soul was around to see as much as an ugly hair of the intruders.

Disaster. Total disaster.

The elves rushed back to the castle with Santa, furious, clomping along behind them, only to discover that there had been a terrible accident. Polar bear had seen the signs of mischief in the workrooms and rushed out to look for the larcenous culprits. Not only the wing supplies were missing, but every toy making tool, every hammer and nail, every rubber band and piece of string, the lot.

So, the scene that greeted the returning miscreants was AWFUL. Bear had climbed the North Pole (which, for the uninformed is striped red and white--that's why we have candy canes) to take a loooooong look. He spotted a trail of something winding away just below the surface of the snow--figured it was the band of robbers (who were obviously quite short)--and got so excited he overbalanced and broke off the top of the pole.

And he broke one of his legs, too--not sure which one.

Although Mrs. Clause's sherry had barely taken the edge of the P. bear's pain, he was able to point Santa, the reindeer, and all the elves in the right direction. They set out at a great pace to rescue the essentials for filling the stockings of GOOD boys and girls all over the world.

And they caught up with those wretched thieves, they tracked them to the edge of an ice-covered lake.

Trolls! The same band the residents of Santa Castle, North Pole, have been fighting off for generations. There they were in high glee, falling around all over the ice with toys, tools and goodies to which they had no right.

Well, you think, that's that, then. Everything's fine. Not quite, my dears because you're overlooking a very important point: Trolls are short but elves are shorter and not nearly as strong. You should have witnessed the scene when the trolls noticed the elves and fell into a ragged formation to face off against their little enemies.

It was terrifying!

And that's where the communication I got stopped. I don't know what happened next, but we might want to cross our toes as well as our fingers and hope that if my source does make contact again it will be soon, and with good news. I'll try to let you know...

Yours, biting her fingernails,

Stella

Q: If you weren't who/what you are, who/what would you like to be?