The Antigravity Flymabob
by Eric J. Krause
Beezle charged through the workshop, sweat beading on his forehead. What had the elves done with it? The Antigravity Flymabob was the only thing that would get Santa around the world in one night. Sure the reindeer would get him off the ground, and they could weld a rocket onto the sled, but flying and magically flying were two very different things. Why couldn't the elves be as careful as the gnomes?
He heard all the fanfare that accompanied the take-off, punctuated by Santa's jolly ho-ho-ho's. Wouldn't that end quickly if Beezle couldn't find it. The elves, always looking for a way to get on the gnomes' good side, had promised it'd be on the sleigh, but ten minutes to go and where was it? They might be great at making toys, but when it came to magic you couldn't trust an elf as far as you could throw him.
Beezle grumbled under his breath. No Antigravity Flymabob here. He'd have to go out and tell Santa. He'd just ask the elves, but he doubted they even remembered making the promise, let alone where they left it. At least no one outside the North Pole knew gnomes existed. The entire blame for a ruined Christmas could rest on the elves' scrawny shoulders.
Beezle hurried out to the launch pad. Every second counted if they were going to get Santa off with enough time to keep Christmas on schedule. He busted through the door and into the crowd.
"Wait!" Beezle shouted. "Don't go yet!"
With all of the noise, no one heard him. He looked over to the sleigh and saw the Antigravity Flymabob latched snugly in place. He glanced over to the group who'd promised to put it in. They looked over at Beezle, smiled, and saluted. Before turning back to watch Santa depart, they said something. Though Beezle couldn't hear over the din of the crowd, he could read their lips. "Merry Christmas, Beezle!"
Beezle grunted and allowed himself a small smile. Maybe the elves weren't so bad after all.