Fish set up his kissing boof on the first snowy morning ob winter, wiff a tiny red hat pulled down snug between his ears. He didn’t know exactly why anyone would want to kiss a small gray rat, but Reuben said it was “for charity,” and Fish liked charity. Also tips (for cheese).

He clutched his snack wiff both paws, eyes wide and hopeful, sitting as straight as he could behind the little table. The cup beside him rattled softly as snowflakes fell, and ebery time someone walked by, Fish leaned forward just a bit, as if to say, “I am bery professional and ready.”

Most passersby smiled. Some laughed. A few dropped coins in the cup just because they couldn’t resist him. Fish decided that eben if no kisses were exchanged, it was still a success — he made people happy, earned enough for cheese later, and stayed warm wiff his friends nearby.

All in all, Fish concluded it was a bery good day to be small, sweet, and just a little bit brabe.

Santa’s big night was ober. The sky had quieted, the snow had stopped whispering, and ebery last present had found its way home. So Santa tiptoed back to his own little house, red hat still tilted just a bit sideways, paws tired but his heart was berry happy.

He leaned on his silver stool and sighed a happy sigh. The cookies were gone (mysteriously), the cocoa was lukewarm, and the little tree by his door blinked its lights one last time, proud ob its hard work. Outside, the woods rested, wrapped up in snow like a big cozy blanket.

Santa hung up his hat carefully — not goodbye, just “see you later.” He tidied his lists, smoothed the corners, and tucked them away for safekeeping. There was nothing left to rush, nowhere left to hurry. For now, the world could rest.

So Santa waited. He watched the snow drift. He listened for distant dreams. He practiced his “Ho Ho Ho” berry qwietly so it would be extra jolly next year.

And as the months would pass, and the lights would sleep, and the tree would wait patiently in memory, Santa would be right there in his house — resting, smiling, and getting ready.

Because Christmas always comes back.And Santa always does too.

Fank you Ratty Box for this wonderful box full ob goodies including (but not pictured) a Reindeer hammock and Nutri-Berrie snacks!

Somewhere pretending to be in the Norff Pole, in the chaos ob another mail room, the elbes are hard at work.

Baxter—wearing his tallest elf hat—stood tall behind da workbench, paws perched on a mysterious box dat absolutely rattled when shaken.

“Dis one’s delicate,” he said berry seriously. “Could be joy. Could be socks. Could be both.”

He tugged da twine, tested da box, and nodded wiff approval. The ornament swayed. Dis elf shift was going excellently.

While some rats stapled and sorted and issued warnings, the elbes handled the behind-the-scenes magic—packing surprises, checking lists, and making sure eberyfing felt just right.

Baxter peeked over da edge ob da table and smiled.

“Okay,” he whispered. “Next box.”