A Christmas Fish Tale

“Bells, get your boots in here right away!” Santa bellowed from his office overlooking the floor of his vast workshop at the North Pole.
It was a few weeks before Christmas and the usually busy workshop was so quiet you could even hear the mice stirring. Production was down…in fact, it was at a standstill. So were the elves, loitering and lingering listlessly about; their glum attitudes more suggestive of the day after Christmas letdown than their usually bubbly yuletide exuberance.
Santa had been hearing the rumors from down below. He’d checked his lists—an unprecedented third time—and he couldn’t figure out what was going on with his workforce.
That’s why he sent for Bells.
“They’re always so cheerful this time of year,” Santa mused. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”
“It’s not just them, sir,” Bells replied crisply. “It’s the entire world.”
Bells was Santa’s crack troubleshooter. If there was a problem in the workshop, Bells would discover the cause of it. And Bells already had an answer when he jingled his way into Santa’s office in response to the boss’ bellow.
Crisply pointed red-and-green cap slanted jauntily on his head, Bells danced through the door ringing those jingly booties that had given him his name then pirouetted to attention in front of Santa’s desk.
“Enough of the bells, Bells,” Santa said. They looked at one another in silence for a moment.
“Well, are you going to stand there until New Year’s Eve and it’s time for you to ring in the New Year with those things?”
“Sorry boss,” bells piped. “You were wondering about the slowdown.”
“It isn’t a strike is it?”
“Nothing like that sir. The elves love you…even with the mandatory triple shifts this time of year… But there is a problem.”
“I knew it,” Santa started to say.
“The whole staff is infected with Spring fever.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. We haven’t had Spring at the North Pole since…” Santa paused. “We’ve never had Spring at the North Pole.”
“That’s why it’s having such a dramatic effect on them, sir,” Bells replied. “No built up immunity.
Santa looked skeptical. He drummed his pudgy fingers on the desk while Bells fidgeted. And whenever Bells fidgeted, his natural music played.
“Listen boss,” the elf finally said, hoping to drown himself out. “The world’s changing. Glaciers are breaking up and floating away. The great ice sheet is melting. It’s pretty warm outside. In fact, it’s positively a Spring day.”
“Elves moods are determined by the weather. If it’s cold outside, they think Christmas overtime and making toys for all the good little girls and boys. If it’s warm, they think…well, it’s never been warm before so they don’t know what to think. They just kind of hibernate.
“Sort of like bears only in reverse,” Santa added.
“Exactly.”
“How come you aren’t affected?”
“How could I possibly hibernate with you keeping my toes jingling with all the special projects you keep coming up with,” Bells replied then jingled nervously when he realized what he’d said. But Santa wasn’t paying attention. He was thinking.
“What can we do about it?” he finally asked.
“It’s the humans sir,” Bells answered. “They’re making the world warmer.”
“I’d like to put a lump of coal in each and every one of their stockings.”
“Don’t do that sir, they’ll just burn it and make things even warmer out there.”
“If we can get just one human to change his ways…You know how people are. They’ll always follow a trendsetter.”
“Way ahead of you, sir. That’s why I wore my traveling shoes.”
The elf jingled his boots.
“For this assignment, you’ll have to time travel. Back to when they’re weren’t as many people in the world. And remember, no cutesy elf magic, the human has to choose for him.”
Bells shook his head anxiously, jingling up a musical storm. He wasn’t happy with the way this assignment was developing.
“Time travel? You mean I have to go under the North Pole…through the underground time tunnel…?”
“You have a wet suit that matches that jingly footwear of yours?”
****
Homer lived in an igloo near a frozen bay.
Each morning, he padded across the bay and sit for hours catching fish through a small hole he cut in the ice. Each night, he shuffled back, cooked and ate his fish then slept in his igloo.
It was a busy life and Homer enjoyed it very much.
One morning, Homer padded out to his favorite fishing spot and began to cut a hole so he could fish. The ice around the hole cracked in all directions and the hole opened wide. The hole sucked ice and water quickly as Homer fled back toward his igloo. The hole swallowed Homer’s igloo as well and would have swallowed Homer but he managed to perch upon a passing ice berg just as the hoe stopped sucking.
Exhausted, Homer slept on the ice berg. He had nothing left in the world but he didn’t mind.
“I’m alive,” he said. “Who knows what adventures tomorrow might bring?”
Next morning, floating along on the ice berg, he came upon a strange sight.
A small fellow lay face down in the water. He was wearing a colorful cap and pointed shoes that made some kind of noise whenever the fellow gurgled to breathe.
“I hate that time tunnel,” the fellow mumbled, spitting water.
Homer stared at the fellow for a long time. He gaped like a guppy.
“Don’t just stand there gaping like a guppy,” the other suddenly said. “Pull me out of this water.
Homer didn’t know what else to do so he obeyed.
“Thank you. My name is Bells the Elf.” When Homer didn’t say anything, the elf went on. “I live around here somewhere and was just… out for a swim…yeah that’s right, a swim, when all of a sudden…well, you can guess the rest.”
Homer still preferred to gape like a guppy at the odd looking creature.
“For saving me, you deserve a reward. Name it,” the elf grandly declared.
“I want no reward,” Homer replied. “I only want a place to sleep and fish to catch for my dinner.”
“Go. It’s done,” Bells replied. “I’ll be around for a little while.” He handed Homer a shiny brass bell that he pulled off his hat. “Just tinkle this if you ever want anything.”
When he returned to where used to call home, Homer’s igloo had been restored, his bay stocked with fish.
For the next few days, Homer padded across the bay and caught fish. Homer padded home and cooked the fish and ate his fill before sleeping in his igloo. There no signs of the elf but the brass bell Homer had tied around his neck jingled every time he moved, reminding him of their strange encounter.
The story should end happily ever after here, except that Homer kept thinking about the elf’s parting words.
“…if you ever want anything…” Homer repeated in his sleep.
“Want anything…want anything…want anything…”
One morning, Homer woke up to a grumbling coming from inside himself. It wasn’t his stomach grumbling. It was the grumble of dissatisfaction. He padded across the bay to his fishing spot and was about to cut a hole through the ice when instead, he reached for the bell and gave it a slight jingle.
The bay suddenly turned into a mirror of clear crystal water. Homer looked way down to the bottom, where numbers of small creatures like the elf he’d rescued danced about a tall tree decorated with shiny ornaments and lights. Homer was especially interested in the lovely elfettes, who danced about the great tree, singing. They sang with such sweet voices that made Homer’s head spin.
When Bells saw Homer looking down into the mirror, he joined him on the surface.
“Hello there. I see you’ve found the entrance to the tunnel. I knew you’d come,” the elf said coyly. “What can I do for you today?”
“I’m lonely.” Homer blurted. “I want someone to share my hut. One of those lady elfs would be nice.”
“I have to warn you, elfettes are high maintenance creatures,” the Bells said.
Seeing that Homer was determined, the elf shrugged, jingling.
“Go. It’s done.”
Returning to his hut, Homer found the elfette but she wasn’t singing. Instead, she yelled at Homer for wishing her away from the North Pole.
Homer quickly realized his igloo was too small for the two of them.
Homer cleaned the igloo while his companion ate all the fish. A huge pile of fish bones soon spilled into the bay scaring away the remaining fish.
“Do something!” she yelled at Homer.
Back to Bells he went.
Homer jingled his bell and surface of the bay once again turned into a mirror. But the surface of the mirror had slimed with an oily film which Bells had to breach to greet Homer.
“Oh ho! You want a bigger place to live and something besides fish to eat,” the elf chuckled. “Go, it’s done.”
Homer returned to a large family living in a much larger igloo.
The elfette wasn’t dancing for joy to see Homer. She was reviewing remodeling plans for a split level farmhouse. When Homer tried to sneak away to fish, she put him to work.
“Tend your “chores!”
“Reindeer to be milked. Puffin eggs collected. Then there’s wood gathering and fish salting.” she clicked off things Homer had to do.
Meanwhile, elf children washed laundry in the lake, fouling it with soapy dirty water, along with fish bones, fruit rinds, vegetable scraps and egg shells.
Homer stared at the garbage as it floated away, wondering where it would end up.
But he didn’t have time to worry about it.
“We want playmates!” the children demanded.
“I want neighbors to keep up with,” the elfette scolded.
“I want a new washing machine, too.”
The kick sent Homer scrambling back to Bells, his bras bell clanging furiously.
“Of course, they’ll all have to be housed and fed,” Homer pointed out. “And we’ll need transportation to carry our stuff from place to place.”
“’Transportation’, he needs,” the other muttered, pushing aside orange peels and soap bubbles, bobbing in the mouth of what now looked like a watery cavern.
When he returned, Homer now lived a town filled with split level houses that looked alike. Each house contained a family just like Homer’s.
The elfette squatted inside a device that sputtered noxious smoke and fumes. Homer’s mouth gaped wide until she bellowed at him to shut it and get in.
“We’re goin’ to the mall to hunt for Christmas bargains.”
She blew cigarette smoke in his face. He blanched, as much as her actual use of “Xmas” as at her smoky exhale.
Crowds entered the mall empty-handed and came out carrying piles of stuff.
They made room for their new stuff by dumping their old stuff into the bay, which changed to an unfestive metallic color.
It wasn’t long after the holidays before the community ordered Homer to return to Bells.
“They demand more stuff.” Homer read from the list he’d been given.
The walls of the cavern had narrowed and now resembled a tunnel. The tunnel was awash in broken electronic equipment, food wastes, and unwanted toys. Bells struggled to break through the gunk. The elf was covered with sores. He wheezed when he breathed.
“The tunnel’s closing…I’m running out of time,” the elf complained but Homer was so preoccupied with his list that he ignored him.
“Bigger vehicles to take the kids to soccer practice and band camp. Oil refineries to make fuel for the vehicles. Cell phone towers so people can talk continuously while they drive from soccer practice to band camp. Professional sports stadiums so people can watch games all weekend long instead of playing outside which nobody can do anymore because all the land is covered with malls and housing developments.”
“Anything else?”
“Facilities to store our extra stuff.”
“Homer, do you understand what’s happening?” the elf asked.
“The elfette calls it ‘progress’.”
Homer’s beach was now covered with cement and asphalt. Wires and pipelines extended into the bay.
Holes had been drilled in the ground to get at the gooey stuff that makes the machinery run. The machinery belched smoke into the air, blotting out the sun so it was dark all day.
Suddenly, Homer heard bells jingling from somewhere in the distance. The gooey stuff stopped oozing out of the holes in the ground and the machinery stopped running. Everything came to a standstill. Nothing moved.
“Go back to Bells and tell him we need more,” the elfette shouted. “Newer. Bigger! Improved.”
Homer climbed slowly over mountains of trash.
Chunks of plastic, burnt wood, all sorts of thrown away stuff crowded in a crust of slime. The water beneath had turned into gelatin. Fish floated on their backs. They were not doing the back stroke.
Bells the elf hung motionless, suspended in glop at the entrance to the tunnel. Spotting Homer, it frantically into the crud pudding, digging a hole, trying to get inside the tunnel.
“Why are you digging a hole?” Homer asked.
“To get away from you!” the elf gasped.
Embarrassed, Homer looked down. His toes were black with greasy muck.
“I want to go back to the North Pole before it melts away and Santa Claus and Christmas are gone forever. I want to escape through the time tunnel before you close it down with your ‘progress’,” the elf said. “But I haven’t the strength. Human, you’ve killed me.”
“I’ve done nothing to you,” Homer said.
“You poisoned the water. You polluted the air. You’ve fouled everything with your junk.”
“I didn’t know,” Homer stammered.
“Would it have mattered if you did know?” the elf asked.
“I wish I could take it all back,” Homer answered. “I’d do things differently now that I know.”
Bells the elf gasped and looked long at Homer.
“Go back. It’s done.”
The elf hung in the ooze, before it slowly sank through a narrow opening in the tunnel and passed out of Homer’s sight.
The frozen surface of Homer’s familiar bay glittered in the sunshine. And beside the bay, Homer’s neat igloo.
A light snow began falling as Homer padded across the bay to his favorite fishing spot. He cut a hole in the ice and looked down.
The water was as clear as he remembered. He could see to the very bottom where a busy throng of elves hustled and bustled in a room filled to the ceiling with toys. Homer looked about the scene, spotting the elfette who now carried a tray heaped with chocolate chip cookies around to all the elf workers. She looked none the worse for wear from her adventures with Homer.
Suddenly, Homer heard a tinkling of bells and sure enough, the elf was standing beside him at the mouth of the hole. Eyes twinkling mischievously, Bells looked Homer up and down.
“We’ve been given a second chance,” the elf said. “Now, let’s try it again.”
(Rebmann writes from Clermont.)