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.

I finally tracked down Bob to the courtyard of the Folly. He and a bunch of his vampire buddies were taking advantage of the low winter sun and their brand-new Sun Shield amulets to make snow men.

Vampire snow men.

"Bob, haven't we had this talk before?"

"Which talk, sweetie?"

"About using blood on the snowmen."

"It's biodegradable!"

"All-natural!" one of his buddies added.

"No additives or preservatives!" piped up another.

I shook my head. "That's what I'm afraid of. Let me guess, and it comes from organically-raised, free-range, cruelty-free sources?"

Bob snickered. "With the amount of Twinkies the donor eats, I wouldn't say organically-raised." He saw the look on my face. "But it was definitely free-trade."

"It stinks!"

"That just means it's fresh."

I went back inside. My Xander and Spike Season 4 DVDs were due in by Gorgon Express, and I intended to get the first crack at them.

The undead hoard charge unopposed at the walls of Santa's workshop. The battering rams are thrown to the ground as the gates are unbarred. As I ride through the gates in the middle of the hoard, I notice a few shattered mechanical elves. What the hell?

The workshop appears deserted, behind the workshop appears to be a large wooden scaffolding. I also notice various mechanical constructs scattered around the courtyard.

"Take the workshop! Capture any elves and bring them to me!" I yell to the skeletons around me.

Samyaza rides up to me on his skeletal mount. "We have taken everything. There has been no resistance."

"Something is wrong here. Where are the elves? Where is the resistence?" I ask Samyaza.

"I too am disturbed." He replies.

"Have you taken Santa's house?"

Samyaza nods. "He was not there."

Why do plans never go smoothly? "Send out scouts, see if they are holed up somewhere."

"Very well." Samyaza rides off to fulfill my orders.

I spot a couple of Skeletons dragging a curly shoed, pointy hatted figure to me.

"We found this one curled up in a corner with this." Rattles the skeleton while showing me a bottle of eggnog.

"Speak elf, where are the others!" I demand.

The elf hiccups and speaks. "Gone."

"Gone! Gone where?!"

"Laid off...hic...outsourced to...hic...another fandom. Cheaper...hic...labor" rambles the elf.

"What fandom?"

"Harry...hic...Potter fandom. Elves there...hic...work for free. Santa can kiss...hic...my little green...hic...ass." Says the pathetic elf.

"What are these machines for Elf?" I point at the mechanical contraptions.

"Tried...hic...to bring in...hic...business and start Polar...hic...Disney...hic...total bomb...hic...closed down."

"Damn, we've attacked the wrong elves."

"Should we kill him now?" Asks the skeleton holding the pathetic creature.

"No. Let him wallow in his misery. Find Samyaza and have him gather the army, we have to regroup."