Jason Sprinkles and the Eggnog Incident

By Abigail McKenna

Every January, for one week, the North Pole sleeps. Elven families tuck in with enough firewood to last, the kitchen elves pass out reheatable frozen meals prepared before the break, and if an elf so desires, he doesn’t have to see another soul for seven blissful days.

This is my favorite week of the year.

Or it would be, if I weren’t currently wading through hip-high snow in Nepal instead of napping in my plush, comfortable, green-checkered chair.

Clifford Bells, of the stable elves, arrived on my doorstep earlier today in a tizzy because at his last reindeer headcount, one was missing. Blitzen, the adventurous one, had ventured out on her own and, according to the tracker on her harness, was trying to be the first flying reindeer to scale Mount Everest.

“Come on, Sprinkles—we’re going to lose her!” Bells calls.

I can barely see his hat’s red puffball bobbing through the falling snow that’s making a mess on my glasses. “This is a bad idea, Bells! Blitzen can handle herself! She’s a reindeer for crying out loud! Naturally insulated! We are elves! Naturally not insulated!”

And yet I follow Bells as he follows Blitzen, hoping the Yetis don’t find us trespassing.

Such is the life of a S.A.N.T.A. operative.

Bells ignores all of my complaints, instead focusing on the electronic tablet strapped to his hand. All he has of Blitzen is a blinking dot on a map display, and considering he’s up for a promotion next season, he’s understandably upset.

We must be getting closer though, because he cups his free hand around his mouth and hollers, “Blitzen! Where are you?”

With a sigh, I join him in calling. I don’t know what he was expecting, but the missing reindeer doesn’t answer.

Unfortunately, something else does. Or rather, someone else.

“Will you keep that racket down?” Garbed in a fuzzy pink bathrobe with green plastic curlers in her white fur, Mama Yeti has a scowl on her gray-and-black face as she steps out onto her cave’s front porch. “Jason Sprinkles? You have a lot of nerve showing up here.”

Considering she’s twice my height, I can’t help the sheepish quality in my voice when I say, “Hey, Mama.”

Wheezing out clouds of breath, Bells steps up beside me. “Oh! Wonderful!” He wipes his runny nose on his sleeve and smiles up at Mama. “How lovely to see you again, Mama Yeti! We missed you at this year’s post-Christmas party!”

The scowl melts a little as she looks down at him, although she hasn’t still invited us in from the cold—an egregious breach of Yeti etiquette. I shake off my self-consciousness and squint up at her.

“Mama, you’re not still mad about the eggnog incident, are you?”

Her voice comes out in a growl, deep in her throat. “How dare you intrude on my property and then mention your betrayal in such a dismissive tone.”

Bells clears his throat, shooting me a warning look. “Not to worry, Mama. We’d never want to intrude. We’re just here looking for Blitzen.” He raises his arm to show her his screen, and Mama bends to examine it. “I don’t suppose you’ve seen a flying reindeer around here?”

She casts me a withering, sideways glare, then smiles at Bells. “Lucky for you, I have. Wasn’t sure which one it was, but…” She steps back, and we blink in the sudden rush of light from her doorway. Through the opening, I can see a Yeti-sized fireplace, and Blitzen curled up in front of it, contentedly chewing on a plate of gingersnaps.

“Blitzen!” Bells exclaims, and at Mama’s motioning hand, he rushes inside. Before I can enter after him, Mama blocks the doorway again. My instinct is to gulp and shiver, but I’m a S.A.N.T.A. operative, and I know what she wants.

“Mama Yeti, please accept my sincerest apologies for my behavior at last year’s post-Christmas party.” I bow, a bit begrudgingly, and pull my knit hat from my head—a move I instantly regret as the whistling wind bites at the tips of my pointed ears. “I had no idea that a simple compliment could be taken so poorly. I would never insult your eggnog; it’s too delicious!”

Her yellow eyes narrow again. “An insult I could forgive. But stealing my secret recipe? That’s tantamount to treason in Yeti society!”

I blink, unsure if snow in my ears is causing hearing trouble. “I’m sorry?”

“You couldn’t possibly have known the secret ingredient was yak milk unless you’d stolen a peek at the recipe card!”

I barely hold back a confused laugh. “I only guessed it was yak milk because Susanna Garland felt sick after drinking it, and she’s allergic! Any observant elf could’ve figured it out. If you want my opinion,” at this, my confident tone fades a bit, “you should be advertising the unique flavors of your eggnog. It’s truly some of the best I’ve ever had.”

She studies me for a minute. “Well. Thank you, Sprinkles.”

“You’re welcome, ma’am.” I give her another little bow. “Please, feel free to bring another batch to next year’s party. I’ll make sure Garland stays away, but I’ll happily drink her share.”

Without answering, she steps back, allowing Bells to lead Blitzen out.

The elf wraps one arm firmly on her bell-strung collar and says, “Thank you for all your help, Mama Yeti. This little rascal will be tucked away securely, I can assure you.”

“You’re a shoe-in for stable master, Clifford.”

Bells’s face turns the color of his hat as he clambers onto Blitzen’s back and reaches down to help me up behind him. Mama Yeti crosses her arms with a small smile.

“Sprinkles, you tell your bosses at S.A.N.T.A. that I expect a written endorsement if I decide to market.”

“Consider it done.” I send her a salute, my taste buds already anticipating next year’s incident-free eggnog.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Abigail McKenna has been dreaming about magic since she was small. Now she weaves it into stories that are full of hope and the love of life. She can usually be found rereading an old favorite book, watching a mystery show, or dreaming about how to get her characters out of predicaments she put them in.

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