Ms. Claus and I were out for our nightly walk around Christmas Village with our friends Nippy the Snowman, and Polar Pete. the fast-footed polar bear. Inhaling deeply, I enjoyed the scent of fresh pine, with a hint of cinnamon, until a sudden stench overpowered the air around us. “Do you smell that?”
Pete twitched his nose. “Yeah. Smells like… swamp onions and burnt broccoli.”
Ms. Claus raised an eyebrow and pinched her nose closed. “It’s got to be Malodor.”
Nippy groaned. “Not that guy again.”
We moved quickly and followed the stink of that nasty gremlin. Soon we found ourselves at the back door to the toy train workshop.
Putting a finger to my lips, I slowly opened the door as everyone became silent. It did not take long to pick up Malodor’s scent once again which led us through the storeroom to the production room.
“Elves!” I heard Malodor hiss while we peaked our heads around the corner. He stood with an unusual jar over one of the conveyor belts that carry the trains through production.
“Cheery, sparkly, toe-tapping elves. Santa chose them, year after year, while gremlins were cast aside like broken wind-up toys,” he complained. “We can run the North Pole just as well as they do. We have ideas. “This will wipe the grins off those elf faces,” Malodor chuckled.
I looked closely at the jar he held, and realized it was full of some kind of goo that he was stirring.
“STOP” I bellowed.
Malodor jumped, spilling a bit of the sticky sludge onto his foot.
“No, no, no!” he shouted, trying to scoop it back into the jar. “You’re not supposed to be here!”
“Really, Malodor?” Ms. Claus said. She crossed her arms and gave the gremlin an icy stare. “Is that another concoction of pine tar, melted candy canes, and chewed up peppermint taffy to gum up the gears in the toy-making machines and silence every bell in Christmas Village? You tried that last Christmas. If I remember, it didn’t work very well.”
“HA! You think you know everything,” Malodor barked while looking for a way to get out. “I made it more potent, so now it will clog everything! Including Santa’s sleigh!”
Pete bared his teeth. “Want me to give him the ol’ North Pole pounce?”
“Just a warning growl,” I said calmly.
Pete let out a low rumble that shook the icicles on the workshop gutters. As the infuriated gremlin lost his footing, the jar was tossed into the air. The pot cracked after it hit the floor, spilling goo everywhere and trapping Malador in his own sticky potion.
Turning pale green, the gremlin tried to escape, but after we surrounded him, he surrendered. “Fine! Get me out of this, and I’ll leave you alone!” he snapped. “But this isn’t over, Claus! One day, other gremlins will—AAAH!”
Malodor yelped as Pete stood up on his hind legs, casting a dark shadow over the gremlin. “You really don’t understand,” the polar bear snarled. “You haven’t learned anything from all of your vicious raids in the past.”
Ms. Claus shook her head. “He wants to be part of the Christmas magic, but chooses the worst possible way to show it.”
Nippy raised a hockey stick arm and smacked the gremlin on his shoulder. “The elves came to Santa and volunteered to help. Have you ever bothered asking to join them?”
“That’s right!” Pete injected. “When Chumley, the Dwarf, asked to help out at the North Pole, Bernard put him to work right away making candy canes.”
“True” Ms. Claus responded, “But apparently gremlins, or at least this one, is more interested in grumbling, infiltrating, and sabotaging!”
“What should I do with him Santa?” my polar bear friend asked.
I sighed deeply, while stroking my beard. “If he hasn’t figured out how to ask by now, maybe it’s time to take him to the Isle of Turden.” Turning to Anya, I continued, “Will you call Highstep for me and ask him to prepare a service sleigh immediately?”
Ms. Claus nodded and radioed Highstep. ““Highstep? We have a gremlin problem, Santa needs a service sleigh, the one with the reinforced cargo hold.”
Malodor whined, “Oh, come on! The Isle of Turden? That’s just a mossy rock in the middle of a frozen lake! Nothing but toads, thistles, and squawking seabirds!”
“That’s the one,” Pete said with a grin. “Cozy, if you like slime.”
“But… but I have ideas!” Malodor whimpered, now stuck like a gumdrop in a molasses trap.
“Your ideas always involve sabotaging something, like sleigh bells or setting off glitter-bombs in the wrapping department,” I replied, stepping closer. “Malodor, I’ve told you before—if you want to be part of Christmas, you’ve got to build something, not break it.”
The gremlin glared at us, still struggling to free his feet from the gooey mess. “But building takes time! Breaking is fast!”
Pete huffed. “So’s flying… straight to Turden.”
I stepped back and folded my arms. “Highstep will be here shortly. You’ll have plenty of time to reflect on your ‘fast’ approach during your stay on that mossy rock.”
Malodor slumped with a long, soggy sigh. “This is so unfair.”
A slight grin slid across Ms. Claus’s mouth as she stared at the gremlin. “Maybe next time, instead of trying to ruin Christmas, you’ll remember it’s the ones who help, not hinder, who get invited in for cocoa and cookies.”
Notes From Santa
I hope you enjoyed today’s story. Stories are posted on the 1st and 3rd Saturday of each month, except December. Santa’s next story will be posted on Saturday August 16, 2025. If you have any comments or if there is something you would like me to tell you about, please feel free to leave me a comment. Until the next time . . .
To read other adventures of Malodor please check out:
Sleigh Problems – January 4, 2021
Cookie Problems – December 1, 2021
False Alarm – July 15, 2022
Heads Up – October 7, 2023
Santa’s Lost Key – October 5, 2024
Christmas Production – November 16, 2024
To read about Chumley please check out:
Not All Candy Canes Are the Same – July 22, 2019
Find Cincy Santa (@CincySanta) on:
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