text: Detective Merry Giftsleigh puffed on his mistletoe pipe and watched the hidden compound at the base of the jungle volcano. Artificial Christmas trees littered the ground inside the fence, plastic melting under the Hawaiian sun. Mixed among them were tangles of Christmas lights higher than an elf’s head, next to heaps of discarded lawn reindeer and uninflated snowmen. It had been an hour and he hadn’t seen a single guardsman or guardself on patrol. Slapping away a mosquito, Merry decided that was long enough. He extinguished his pipe and crept up to the chain link fence. Some quick work with wire cutters and he was into the compound. Merry finally got a good look into the two largest buildings in the compound. Warehouses, doors open to reveal further Christmas paraphernalia. Bins of loose tinsel. Barrels of eggnog. Ugly sweaters draped over every surface. And most of all, thousands of unopened presents, nearly pouring out of the warehouses. This went far beyond the candy cane fraud that had put Merry on the case. “Well, I’m cocking my gun,” he said, drawing his mint shooter. He crept down the alley between the warehouses, heading for the helpfully-labelled “Administration”. Up on the rooftop, a faint *click, click, click* was his only warning. “Rudolph’s antlers!” Merry cursed. Why did he always forget to look up? Merry dashed for the end of the alley, a staccato chatter chasing him. He ducked around a corner just before the shots caught up with him. A glance at the ground confirmed his worst fears. The madman was firing black licorice. Santa only knew where they’d found it after the Gifteva Convention’s ban. There was a brief pause as the guard reloaded his astringent ammo. Merry ran for the administration building. He slammed the door shut just in time; the next volley rattled off it. He toppled a filing cabinet in front of the door to gain more time. The office was filled with Christmas cards, piled on every available surface. But Merry Giftsleigh’s attention was drawn to the dartboard behind the room’s only desk. A calendar was pinned to it, turned to the current month. December 25 was lined up over the bullseye. Merry jerked in shock as a dart struck Christmas. It came from the office chair behind the desk. Leveling his mint shooter, he barked, “Hands where I can see them! Turn around slowly.” “Oh my, Detective Giftsleigh. I didn’t expect to meet you here.” The chair swiveled around, and Merry froze. That familiar, cute button nose of evil. “Nutmeg Frosting,” he grated. “I never thought even a former elf would go so far. How could you? Christmas supplies ruined-” “Ho, ho, ho,” Nutmeg cackled. “You think that’s *all* I did? Stole some decorations? No, Giftsleigh. Did you not see the cards, and the presents?” Merry raised a Christmas card so he could read and keep an eye on the Arctic’s Most Wanted elf at the same time. “This- this is addressed to Santa. It calls him a... How could you?” “I’m afraid Hawaii isn’t sending cards to Santa this year.” Nutmeg grinned. “Or rather, the ones he’ll get will be *altered*.” “No!” “Yes!” Anti-jolly fervor burned in Nutmeg Frosting’s eyes. “Every child in Hawaii is sending a nasty letter to Santa this year. They’ll all end up on the naughty list. The few that wrote early, well, you saw their gifts on the way in.” Merry’s aim shook. “You won’t get away with this. “I already have. Hawaiian Christmas will be yet more ruined.” Someone began battering at the door. “Give it up, Giftsleigh. You’ve lost.” Merry grit his teeth, desperate for a plan. Then it came to him. Circling the desk, he slapped handcuffs on Nutmeg. The ex-elf was a master criminal, but the restraints would slow his escape long enough. Booting him out of his chair, Merry took the seat and lit up his mistletoe pipe. “What are you doing?” Nutmeg growled. Merry rolled his eyes when he saw Nutmeg already fiddling with a lockpick and put his feet up on the desk. “Having a smoke.” Cracks appeared in the door. “You’re mad.” Merry puffed to get a decent ember going and picked up a Christmas card. He held it over his pipe until the flame caught, then threw it onto the desk. Onto the pile of slanderous cards. “No!” Nutmeg, arms free, lunged for the flames. With a kick, Merry scattered the burning paper across the room. “Pity I can’t bring you in, Nutmeg, but I’ve foiled your schemes again. Most likely see you next December. And, you filthy traitor,” Merry tipped his cap, “Merry Christmas.” The door broke open as Merry hopped out the back window. Nutmeg’s cry, “Happy Holidays! Happy Holidays!” pursued him through the jungle. Carols to his ears.