Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  The Naughty List

  Want more?

  Author’s Note

  About the Author

  The Naughty List

  Zoe Cannon

  © 2023 Zoe Cannon

  http://www.zoecannon.com

  All rights reserved

  This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and events are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons living or dead is entirely coincidental.

  The Naughty List

  Twinkletoes raced into the barn with panic written over his face. His round glasses were askew, and one of his buttons was buttoned in the wrong hole—which, for Twinkletoes, was tantamount to not being dressed at all. He didn’t bother wiping his boots on the mat, and he trailed snowy footprints behind him. No one ever bothered wiping their feet coming into the barn, mind you—it was a barn, after all. No one but Twinkletoes. At the sight of that button and those snowy footprints, Snowdrop looked up in alarm, still clutching the red-wrapped present he had been about to load into the sleigh.

  “Emergency! Emergency!” Twinkletoes said, out of breath. He paused to rest his hands on his thighs and draw in a few deep gasps. “Oh, this is very bad.”

  “Well, are you going to tell us what it is?” Snowdrop asked. “Or are you just going to stand there panting? We’re on a schedule, you know, and we still don’t have all the gifts loaded yet.”

  “I know we’re on a schedule!” said Twinkletoes, his eyes bugging out in alarm. “That’s why this is so bad! Santa is… he’s…”

  Snowdrop took him by the shoulders, even though the last thing he wanted to do was touch the other elf. He didn’t know whether snootiness was catching, and he didn’t care to find out. “Breathe,” he ordered Twinkletoes. “Tell me what’s wrong. Slowly.”

  “Santa is asleep!” Twinkletoes gasped out. “He won’t wake up! And we have to leave within the hour if we have any chance of getting all the gifts out on time!”

  The barn filled with gasps. All around Snowdrop, presents hit the barn floor with soft thuds as everyone forgot about filling the sleigh.

  “He’s asleep?” Gingerbread muttered. “No, no, no. This isn’t good.”

  “What are we going to do?” squeaked Sugarplum. “He’s supposed to drive this thing!”

  Snowdrop didn’t panic. He faced Twinkletoes with his trademark calm. This was the attitude that made Santa trust him with the most important jobs—like making sure the sleigh got loaded on time, and handling the rush jobs for toys in unexpectedly high demand. “Show me,” he ordered.

  Quivering with panic, Twinkletoes led him out of the barn and down the gumdrop path to Santa’s gingerbread mansion. Sure enough, there he was, passed out on his cotton-candy couch. He had one arm across his eyes, and his belly quivered with every foundation-shaking snore.

  “He must have had too much peppermint ale last night,” Twinkletoes fluttered. “I told him he shouldn’t be drinking.”

  Snowdrop gingerly reached out and grasped the portly man by the shoulder. He took a deep breath. The smell of stale peppermint slapped him in the face. Santa had overindulged, all right.

  Snowdrop shook him, already knowing it wouldn’t do any good. Santa only snored louder.

  He stepped back and shook his head. “He’s not waking up any time soon,” he reported to Twinkletoes. “We’re going to have to make other arrangements.”

  He did his best to hide the relief on his face.

  He hadn’t been sure how effective the sedative would be on someone Santa’s size. It had been hard enough to slip it into his peppermint ale in the first place, let alone make sure he used enough to have an effect but not enough that Santa would taste it. It was a good thing peppermint ale tasted so strongly of… well… peppermint.

  Twinkletoes paced back and forth, wringing his hands. “Oh no, oh no,” he muttered. “What are we going to do?”

  Snowdrop paused, tapping his chin, like he was thinking hard. After a moment, he heaved a mighty sigh, like he was preparing to make a difficult but noble sacrifice. “I’ll do it,” he said in a brave and long-suffering voice.

  “You’ll do what?” asked Twinkletoes. “Wake him? I thought you said you couldn’t!”

  “I’ll drive the sleigh, of course.”

  Twinkletoes’s eyes got even bigger. “But… but… you’re an elf! We can’t do that! We don’t know how!”

  “The reindeer know the way,” Snowdrop pointed out. “The rest just comes down to putting the right presents under the right tree.” He patted his bulging pocket. “I’ve got the list right here. Checked it twice, too.” He shot a glance at Santa’s quivering belly. “Besides, we might go faster with me in his place. It’ll take a lot less effort for me to fit down the chimneys.”

  Twinkletoes stared at the unconscious Santa Claus, then at Snowdrop. “Are you sure you can do it?”

  Snowdrop gave another loud sigh. “It won’t be easy,” he said, “but I’ll do it. For the children, and for Santa, and for the North Pole.”

  “You’re so brave,” Twinkletoes squeaked. Then he straightened up his shoulders and heaved a long-suffering sigh of his own. “I’m… I’m…” he said faintly. “I’m coming with you!”

  Snowdrop barely kept himself from screaming. No, that wouldn’t do at all. “You can’t,” he said, trying not to sound too desperate. “You need to stay here and keep order. Not to mention tell Santa what’s going on when he wakes up.”

  “No, I have to be there,” Twinkletoes insisted. “I’m Santa’s second-in-command. It would be a dereliction of duty for me to let someone else do this in my place. Either we do it together, or I go it alone.” Just saying those last words made all the color drain from Twinkletoes’s face.

  And from Snowdrop’s. “All right,” he said hastily. “You can come. But I don’t want any panicking from you while we’re up in the sleigh at thirty thousand feet, got it?”

  Twinkletoes paled still further, until he was the color of the snow outside. “Does it really go that high?”

  “Higher,” Snowdrop lied. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

  Twinkletoes looked like he was about to throw up. But he nodded. “It’s my duty,” he said in a tiny voice.

  “Then follow me,” said Snowdrop, trying to hide his frustration. He strode ahead of Twinkletoes and jogged back to the barn. “Let’s go,” he called over his shoulder. “We’ve got a schedule to keep.”

  When they got back to the barn, the other elves had, of course, completely forgotten about what they were supposed to be doing in their panic. Snowdrop stifled a sigh. This was why Santa relied on him for the high-pressure jobs—because everyone else inevitably got distracted when the stakes got high. He barked orders at the elves—“Gingerbread, start loading that pile of gifts to your right. Sugarplum, handle the stocking stuffers—nice and gentle, now. Twinkletoes here will tell you the new plan.”

  Twinkletoes opened his mouth, but all that came out was an anemic squeak.

  “All right,” Snowdrop said, “I’ll tell you the plan.” And he did, to a chorus of shocked and admiring gasps.

  He made a quiet-down motion with his hands. “Later,” he said brusquely. “If we don’t get the sleigh loaded, the plan won’t matter. So get to work.” Then he dove in and loaded presents alongside the rest of them, double-time.

  Twinkletoes, of course, didn’t do anything but stand there watching and hyperventilating.

  The presents got loaded just in time. The flight team hooked up the reindeer and checked each of them over from nose to hooves, to make sure none of them had developed any last-minute problems. As a final touch, Candycane tapped Rudolph’s nose, just to make sure it was still in top condition. They all breathed a sigh of relief when it lit up a vibrant red.

  The flight team checked the sleigh next. “You’re ready to go,” they informed Snowdrop in a slightly shaky chorus. They knew about the Santa situation by now, too.

  Snowdrop climbed into the sleigh. His feet didn’t even hit the floor, and he had to lean forward to grasp the reins. This seat was built for someone much bigger than him. But he didn’t let his nerves show on his face.

  He patted the seat next to him. “Well?” he asked Twinkletoes. “Are you coming?” He hoped the answer would be no.

  But Twinkletoes climbed up next to him. “For the North Pole,” he said faintly, his face turning a fascinating shade of green.

  The reindeer trotted out the barn doors and took off running. “Wait,” Twinkletoes squeaked. “I’m not so sure about—”

  Too late. The reindeer took off into the sky. A second later, the sleigh followed with a bone-shaking lurch.

  Twinkletoes gasped and wheezed. His eyes went even bigger underneath his round glasses. He clamped one hand around his belly, and another over his mouth.

  Snowdrop ignored him. As soon as they were up above the clouds, he pulled out his list. Not Santa’s list, the one the old man had been lovingly working on all year. This was the other list—his personal list. He knew he had the right one—he had checked it twice, after all.

  He read off the first address to the reindeer. “And step on it,” he added. “We’ve got quite a few more houses than usual this year.”

  Twinkletoes gave Snowdrop a nauseated frown. He lifted his hand away from his mouth to say suspiciously, “I don’t remember that address being on the list.”

  “You’ve got a lot to keep track of,” said Snowdrop. “Being Santa’s second-in-command, and all.”

  “No, no, I’m sure,” Twinkletoes insisted. “I have an eidetic memory, you know. And that house was definitely on the naughty list.” He snatched a hand out toward the long scroll of paper clutched in Snowdrop’s fingers. “Give me that.”

  Snowdrop lurched back, making the sleigh wobble precariously. Twinkletoes clapped one hand over his mouth again as he strained for the list with the other. The scroll of paper fluttered in the wind and threatened to sail out of Snowdrop’s grip. Snowdrop clutched it harder, crumpling the paper, as he stood on his tiptoes to hold it out of Twinkletoes’s reach.

  He tried very hard not to look down.

  Twinkletoes leapt at him. The sleigh wobbled back and forth like a boat on a stormy sea. With a squeak, Twinkletoes sat down hard in his seat, clapping both hands over his mouth this time.

  Snowdrop tucked the list away in his pocket. He sat back down, and breathed a sigh of relief when the sleigh righted itself in short order. “I think it’s clear that isn’t a good idea,” he said. “So for the sake of both our lives, sit down and keep quiet for the rest of the ride. You don’t need to concern yourself with my list. It looks like you’ve got your hands full holding in your dinner.”

  Twinkletoes dropped his hands to his lap and pressed his slender fingers primly together. “Where did you get that list?” he demanded.

  “I thought we just agreed we were done fighting over the list.”

  Twinkletoes glanced over his shoulder at the back of the sleigh, piled high with presents. “Now that I think about it,” he said, “there are an awful lot of presents this year. I thought it was taking too long to load the sleigh.”

  “We had a few new guys on sleigh duty this year. They don’t have the hang of it just yet. Couldn’t be helped.”

  Twinkletoes put his hands on his hips. “I didn’t get to be Santa’s second-in-command by being an idiot, you know. What is going on here?”

  Well, it looked like the jig was up. Snowdrop sighed. “You weren’t supposed to know,” he said. “If you hadn’t insisted on coming along, you would be waiting down there, none the wiser. You and the big guy both.”

  Twinkletoes spluttered. It took him a moment to form coherent words. “This… this… this is insurrection!” He grabbed for the reins.

  “I wouldn’t do that.” Snowdrop gave the reins a sharp tug. The reindeer obeyed his command, taking off through the sky at double speed. With a gulp, Twinkletoes clutched his stomach.

  “Do that again,” said Snowdrop, “and I’ll make them do a loop-the-loop.”

  “You wouldn’t.”

  Snowdrop narrowed his eyes at Twinkletoes. “Watch me.”

  “I’ll tell Santa Claus all about this when we get down to the ground,” he said in a voice that was no less officious for being squeaky and faintly nauseated. “Don’t think I won’t. We’ll see if he ever puts you in charge of anything again.”

  “Maybe so,” said Snowdrop. “But my work will be done.”

  “What is this?” Twinkletoes demanded. “Are you trying to take his job?” His eyes went big again. “Or mine? Because I won’t hand over my position that easily. Being Santa’s second-in-command is a sacred duty. Do all the loop-the-loops you want—I won’t surrender.”

  Snowdrop rolled his eyes. “I don’t want your job. And I definitely don’t want Santa’s. All I want is a little Christmas joy—for everyone. This year, we’re giving toys to all the children—even the naughty ones.” His cheeks flushed with pride; he couldn’t help it. “I had the elves make extra toys this year, and I got them loaded onto the sleigh. It’s a good thing Santa trusts me to handle these things myself.”

  “You mean… you intend to…” Another round of spluttering followed. “You want to give presents to naughty children?” Snowdrop doubted Twinkletoes would have looked quite so poleaxed if Snowdrop had suggested dumping the entire load of presents into the ocean.

  “I’m glad we understand each other,” said Snowdrop. “Now sit down, be quiet, and don’t rock the boat. You’re the one who invited yourself along on this little trip.”

  “But… but… those kids don’t deserve presents! It’s bad enough that we stopped giving them lumps of coal!”

  “Think about it,” said Snowdrop. “Do you really want any child to be sad on Christmas, naughty or not? Christmas is about joy and love, isn’t it?”

  “Well… yes… but we have a reputation to uphold! Kids won’t be good if they think they’ll get toys no matter what!”

  “How many kids do you really think are going to stop being naughty just because they don’t want to risk not getting a present?” Snowdrop asked. “Trust me, kids are going to be naughty regardless. Being naughty all year is a lot more satisfying than getting a toy one day out of three hundred and sixty-five. As a former naughty kid myself, I would know.”

  Twinkletoes shook his head. “You’re pulling my leg. I don’t believe you were ever naughty. You’re the most trusted elf in Santa’s Village—or you were before this… this…” His hands fluttered. “This act of treason.”

  “Oh, I was the naughtiest elf child in my village,” Snowdrop assured him. He smiled, remembering. “I’ve always been good at getting things done, it’s true—but that just means that when I was naughty, I was better at it than anyone else.”

  The sleigh sailed downward with a swoop that made Twinkletoes clutched his belly. The sleigh landed on top of a snow-covered roof. Snowdrop stood and hopped out. “Well, here we are,” he said. “First stop.”

  Twinkletoes hopped out the other side. “Not a chance. I won’t allow it. You are not going down that chimney.” He blocked the chimney with his body, adopting a wide-legged stance and spreading his arms in a T.

  Snowdrop frowned thoughtfully at Twinkletoes. It looked like the threat of loop-the-loops hadn’t been enough. If he wanted his plan to work, he was going to have to find a way to deal with this problem.

  When the sleigh took off a few minutes later, there was an extra present under the tree below: a scowling elf bound tightly with multicolored Christmas lights. Maybe Twinkletoes could learn to have some Christmas fun. He could stand to learn a thing or two from a naughty kid.

  Snowdrop would pick him up eventually, of course. After all, Christmas was about joy and love—and what would bring Twinkletoes more joy than getting back to his clipboards and schedules? Even if maybe what he deserved was to stay in that house with that naughty child a little while longer.

  For now, Snowdrop had to hurry. He had a long list to go through—almost three times as long as usual. It was a good thing he had a reputation for getting things done.

  Want more?

  For more offbeat Christmas stories about people who belong on the naughty list, try these stories:

  A Hell of a Christmas

  The Unlikable Ones

  Broken Wings and Christmas Things

  No Warm Fuzzies

  Christmas Furlough

  Or get them all in Santa’s Rejects, available now on all major ebook retailers.

  Author’s Note

  Thank you for reading! If you enjoyed this book, please take a few minutes to leave a quick review at the retailer where you bought it. Reviews help other readers find my books, which lets me keep writing and keeps my dog in treats. Ever had a 130-pound dog try to climb into your lap because he hasn’t had his nightly treat? Save my lap, leave a review.

  Want more? Sign up for my newsletter to find out the second I release a new book, get sneak peeks and opportunities to read my new books early, and find out what I’m working on now. Plus, dog pictures! When you sign up, you’ll get a free copy of No Regrets, an introduction to the Iron Bound urban fantasy series. This story is available exclusively to subscribers.

  About the Author

  Zoe Cannon may or may not be a supervillain out to conquer the world through writing. When not writing, they can be found perfecting their schemes for world domination, plotting against their archenemies, and staying up too late reading a book. Their secret lair is rumored to be located somewhere in southern New Hampshire. They also write as their mild-mannered alter ego, Z.J. Cannon.

 

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