Good evening, children.

It's Granny Maduff, ready with a story.

So make yourselves comfy, and I'll begin.

Once upon a time, there lived a very rare creature. Not a dragon or a unicorn, but something that really

did not come along but once in a century. Living in the North Pole, working in Santa's workshop,

there lived a grelph. A grelph is a grumpy elf. Santa's elves are all quite cheerful and very happy to be working in Santa's workshop. But a grelph is not. He is always grumpy, always complaining and always annoyed. But this is the status

quo. Grelphs might have a sour demeanour, but they are always just fine with the way things are.

This grelfth, of which the North Pole had not seen in 87 years, was called Thelonius-Polonius,

F-P for short.

Philonius preferred his full name, but the elves just called him FP, as they all had nicknames

for one another, and his name in particular was quite long. This was something he grumped about

quite often. Why can't they say my proper name? Why is it so difficult for everyone to just do what I

ask?

He would say.

Fallonius Polonius lived with several of his fellow elves, who were also his cousins, in a house in town.

He worked in the sled-making department.

He made the sleds.

He was very good at it, but would never admit it.

He also secretly loved it, but that too he would never admit. Back to working another day,

making the same thing over and over for the same children who will use it for just a day and never look at it again.

And with the same shape so that it goes just fast enough but not too fast, boring, boring, boring.

And these jolly elves around me, my goodness, they smile so much. They love everything.

...