When I walked to the store on the corner, I passed Mrs. McGillicuddy's house. She always had elaborate displays of Christmas ornaments, and I paused to admire her combination Santa's workshop/Hanukkah temple/Bethlehem manger/Kwanzaa display. I started shivering too hard before I could spot the Yule log, but I figured it was there.

On my way back, though, the display had changed. All of Santa's elves had been replaced with garden gnomes. Very grim-faced garden gnomes. And for some reason the animals in the manger display were looking . . . nervous. And the figure of Joseph had shifted to stand between the Workshop section and Mary and the baby.

Oh, well, something different.

I turned to go home and I kicked something. I looked down then picked up the thing I'd kicked. It was a plastic elf hat, the size of the ones that had been on the elf figures. It looked like it had been broken off. Slowly I looked around. Was that a little plastic foot in a green curly toed shoe poking out of that snowdrift?

A noise from the Workshop caught my ear and I turned to look. Santa had moved back a couple of feet, and the gnomes had . . . shifted.

I should do something. Maybe. But I'd seen the Twilight Zone, and I didn't need Rod Serling's ghost shaking his head over me. I was going home, but I was going to keep an eye out.

The legions of the dead march through Fong Sai Square. Skeleton archers, swordsmen, pikemen, and Skeletons with all manner of sharp things march in the lead. Following are the skeletal knights on black, fire snorting demonic horses. Specters and wraiths float along next in eerie silence. The grim parade ends with the zombie marching band bumping into each other and playing off-key.

Led by myself and the dread lich Samyaza, the whole lot marches through the massive gateway in the square leading into frozen wastes of the Arctic.

Roastable chestnuts: $4.99

FireArson permit: $15.00

Lawn chair: $12.89

Fleece wrap: $35.00

Paperclip found in the gutter: Free

Watching Aeshma's Arctic Parade with him at the front march through the Very Big Gate, then shutting said gate and wedging it closed with a random bit of office supplies:

Priceless.

It can't be that easy, can it?

We need to find MacGyver for this to work right.

Capt. Charpe, head of the City Watch, looked over WindSparrow's handiwork with approval.

"That was quick work, Miss. Sgt. Chopper and I were following along to do much the same thing. We've spent weeks planting those rumors about Santa's Workshop being located at the North Pole amongst the, um, less clever members of Aeshma's entourage, and it's nice to see the plan finally come together. Thank you for your help, and if you ever fancy a career change, the Watch has need of quickwitted watchfolk."

Then he gave a signal to Sgt. Chopper and Watchman Harrass, who unlocked the storage cubby for the gate's enormous adamantium bar, and heaved it onto its fittings across the gate.

At the North Pole:

Progress is going well. Advance scouts have reported back that Santa's workshop appears to be unaware of my army of the dead and have not fortified the complex. The Zombies have taken to eating each other, however as this puts an end to the band I see it as a positive development. Once I conjure a blizzard to cover the advance from scout flying reindeer, the troops will commence the attack.

"My troops have reported that the magical forest has been taken." Rattles the dread lich Samyaza, startling me.

"Don't sneak up like that!" I yell at him. "Did they meet resistance?"

"Only a few elves finishing the decorating. They have been given to the remaining zombies. Their little reanimated corpses will lead our troops and strike fear..."

"Whatever. Does this mean we'll have battering rams soon?"

The dread lich nods. "My axemen are cutting down the trees now."

"Excellent." I say as I rub my hands together in anticipation.

"And the best part is, the fool is leading them all to the Arctic. Pity for him that when people call his minions coldblooded bastards, they're speaking the literal truth."

Phred looked up from the beer mug he was rinsing out. "Demons are literally bastards?"

"That, too," I said, "But I was thinking more of the coldblooded part. Ever wonder why demons prefer hot places? When they get cold, they slow down. Eventually, they just stop."

"Skeletons don't have any blood..."

"Wait until you're older. Your bones will creak on cold mornings, too."

"Wait..." Phred looked puzzled. "If Santa's Workshop isn't at the North Pole, where is it?"

I told him.

"That's brilliant! He'll never find it."

"Nope. Meanwhile, if any of his troops do manage to make it all the way there, all they'll find is the last remnants of Polar Disney. Man, what a stupid idea that was. Animatronic elves. They should never have used that code left over from WestWorld to program them."

Getting ready to decorate for the Solstice celebration, I am somewhat disturbed to note the presence of a variety of species' toes among the mistletoe. Was this a giftie from the Mayor, or some odd form of petty vengeance for my own petty vengeances?

Whichever, perhaps I should go have a bit of fortifying stout before venturing out to harvest more. Milo's is open this time of day, isn't it? But I don't have any herring to tip the penguin with... wonder how he feels about sardines?

Santa's Workshop December 19th 5:00am

The workshop walls are in sight of my army. To my right and left are the hoards of undead infantry standing motionless, awaiting my command.

"Send forth the elves!" I yell to the commanders.

The small group of zombie elves staggers toward the workshop.

"Braaaaaiiiiins Braaaaaiiiiins We are Santa's zombie elves..." They sing as they advance.

I wait for the zombie elves to reach the wall and cause the whole fear striking thing.

I begin to appreciate how slow zombies move.

Especially zombies with little elf legs.

I wish I had brought my new copy of Popular Evil with me.

I turn to Samyaza. "The hell with it, let's just attack."

As my sword rises into the air and I hear the clanking as a thousand skeletons ready their weapons.

With a swift stoke I bring the sword down to point at the gates of the workshop wall and the undead hoard surges forward. I regret not using Orcs as the undead don't scream battle cries at the start of an attack. Attacking without battle cries just isn't the same.