Tinsel was an elf. He made toys at the North Pole.
Elves are supposed to be happy all of the time.
Tinsel wasn’t.
He didn’t like making toys.
He wanted to be an architect.
“There’s a lot you can do with snow and ice,” he said, pulling out some blueprints.
Santa signed the order to have Tinsel sent to the re-education center.
Two months later, Tinsel came back.
He was always smiling.
But he didn’t talk. Or laugh.
He just worked, harder than anyone.
His green felt cap covered the surgery scars.
Everybody makes a show of being happy now.