Author's Note: Hey! I just figured I'd give this a shot, since I really don't have anything better to do. Plus, I really love The Santa Clause and The Santa Clause 2, so I figured I would just try to write something for them and see how it goes! =)
This chapter is set before the first Santa Clause and is just to set things up a bit. Hope you enjoy it!
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Complaining never really did anything for anyone, right? Sitting around, thinking of all the ways things could be better and how your situation couldn't be any worse was hardly the best way someone could spend their time. Just being positive and realizing that every day brought a new chance for things to change was always a good way to go about things, and that was what any average person might suggest to someone to do if they were feeling a bit depressed about their current standing in the world.
Too bad no one informed Chelsea of this idea. Currently, the sanitation elf was busying herself with pushing her large broom around the main area of Santa's Workshop. The brunette elf sighed as she walked back and forth across the fairly large area, trying to capture every single one of the wood shavings and other random things that littered the floor after the toy-making elves had gone to their cozy little homes. Chelsea wished she was in hers at the moment, but since her job required her to be in the workshop cleaning up all the way in to the wee hours of the morning, she had quite some time left in this work "day".
Of course, calling herself a "sanitation elf" was just a nice way of saying "janitor". Because of the fact that Chelsea had a horrible time with trying to craft any of the beautiful toys that Santa's elves were known for, the 1,545-year-old elf was really only left with the option of working after-hours at the North Pole. She didn't really have an interest in the fancy technology that was used by the elves who worked in the command center that watched for all possible threats to the secrecy of the North Pole. The brown-haired elf also wasn't terribly fond of making hot cocoa and serving it to people all day. Seeing how many new children's names were added to the naughty list each year just depressed her, so working in the list area was out of the question... basically, as it was mentioned before, she had no other alternatives.
"Here comes Santa Claus, here comes Santa Claus, right down Santa Claus lane..." some of the younger janitor elves sang as Chelsea knelt down to collect some of the dirt and other trash particles in to a dust pan. All of them, ranging in age from 300 to 450-years-old, would be promoted sooner rather than later. They were all good at different things, and most of them were entirely careless when it came to their current job position, so it was only natural that they would be upgraded to the main area when they were just a little bit older. Everything was going so well for them...
Chelsea hated to think of the younger elves being moved to the toy-making section as being "upgraded" since it made her job seem fairly insignificant, but that was how she felt everyone else looked at it. She had only been to the workshop during the day a few times and she knew that, despite the fact that most of the elves there meant well, they sort of looked down on the ones who held Chelsea's job. All elves were supposed to be good at making toys and the janitor job was for the newcomers that they didn't have room for on the main-line.
"One day..." Chelsea sighed to herself, quietly, so that the other elves didn't hear and ask her to tell them what she was talking about. That had often too many times for her to try to think about and it didn't bring her much joy trying to get them to leave her alone. These elves, the current batch of them, were cute, perky, and inquisitive. Three traits, which while separate were completely bearable, that she could barely stand when they were combined. Most elves were a mixture of any two of them, or lost some of their up-beat attitude once they got older and were a good deal more tranquil, though still sweet as ever, making them fine to deal with. There were some, though, that seemed to be all three of those for eternity... and that just didn't sit well with Chelsea.
"Chelsea!" One of the youngest elves, Trisha, shouted as she ran up to the slightly-depressed elf, who was currently emptying her dust pan in to a much larger trash container that she would be taking outside to be removed by some of the maintenance elves that would arrive early in the morning. The younger, blonde-haired elf smiled up at Chelsea, having noticed that the brunette looked just a little bit glum at the moment. "Whatcha thinkin' 'bout?"
"Nothing, Trisha," was the reply she got, along with Chelsea's best fake smile. "I've just been thinking about Christmas and how much work we're going to have to start doing to make sure this place is in perfect order for the toy-making elves when they come in. I mean, we've only got a little over a month left!"
"I know! An' I've been really nervous 'cause one of my friends who got moved up t' makin' toys last year, Claire, said that she heard them talkin' 'bout elves that were gonna be moved up to toys after Christmas... and they said my name!" The tiny blonde squealed with delight at the thought of getting to build toys for children all over the world. The fact that she could be helping to make one day out of the year something special for a little kid thrilled her to death, just as it did most other elves, and Chelsea couldn't help but be happy for Trisha.
"That's great, hun," Chelsea said, still giving her that fake smile, though it was toned down a little bit by now. "I'm sure you'll do really well at it and everybody will love you..."
"I hope they do, 'cause I'm really gonna try my best," Trisha told her, but then felt like she was getting off track. A look of concern passed over her face as she gave Chelsea a strange look. All of this talk about not being a janitor elf anymore usually didn't sit well with Chelsea, so why was she being all happy now? "Are you sure you're okay? Seems t' me like ya might be jus' a teensy li'l bit sad 'bout somethin'... do ya wanna talk 'bout it?"
The brunette chuckled a bit, "don't worry, Trisha, I'm fine. Like I said, I was just thinking about Christmas and everything. If I look sad about anything it's because I'm thinking of the mess that's going to be left for us to clean up as that day gets closer!"
"Well," Trisha started, giggling, "I s'pose you're right. But if ya ever need somebody t' talk to, ya betcha that ya can talk t' me, 'kay?"
"Okay, Trisha... now you'd better get back to work with your friends, we've still got a good bit of work to do before the morning," Chelsea told her, shooing the younger elf off with a smile. As soon as Trisha was out of sight, the look of happiness that had graced the older elf's features for a little while disappeared. Yes, she was happy for Trisha, but there was still that nagging voice in the back of her head that told her she needed to get out of the night shift at this place, because no matter how cheerful it still looked, despite the lack of hustle and bustle that made it so much fun during the day, this place was dead at night... and Chelsea couldn't take it.
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"You guys are doing a great job," Bernard, the head elf, told the other elves as they continued to work on perfecting each of the toys they were working on. It was just about a month until Christmas, and though things were just a little bit behind schedule, it looked like it was going to end up being all right as long as they kept up this pace.
Of course, if he could get Santa Claus to believe that, Bernard would be in a great position right now. He wouldn't have so much stress building up if the man in charge would just believe him when he said that things were going smoothly and that he would have everything straightened out. But, no, every other second he was being called up to the office to explain to Santa just what was going on, why it was going on, and how long it was going to take to fix, like it was something that should just go away over night.
As a matter of fact, the problem had only shown up when a sufficient amount of wrapping paper hadn't been prepared for a certain day's work. It caused a build up of toys, which caused the toy-making elves to stop since the wrapping elves couldn't do their job. Everything was cleared-up by the end of the day, but it had left them with just a small deficit in the amount of toys that were ready to be delivered. However, the elves had been working extra hard since that day and everyone, except for Mr. Claus, as he liked to be called, was feeling confident about what the outcome would be.
"Bernard!" came the announcement over the intercom, causing the Arch-Elf to jump just a bit. He never did get used to hearing his name shouted so often, not even after dealing with this guy for two Christmases. This Santa Claus, whose real name was Stewart Casas, was a lot more controlling than the last one. The one before him, which was the first Santa that Bernard was number one elf under, was a pretty easy-going guy who was content to let Bernard take care of things in the workshop. He trusted that the elves knew what they were doing... this new guy didn't. With a sigh, the curly-haired elf hurried off to find out what it was that Santa felt the need to bug him about now.
He really hated not being cheerful. While most people found him to be a bit of a perfectionist, pessimist, and just all-around obsessed with his work, Bernard really did try to put on a happy face for the worker elves that saw him everyday as he walked around to make sure everything was in order. Bernard knew just as well as anybody else what it was like to make toys all day and, even if you enjoyed it, that it got quite tedious after awhile. He did his best to give constructive criticism where it was necessary, but also to heap praise upon the beings that were doing all of this work.
"Yes, Santa?" Bernard said upon entering the office of the leader of the North Pole and its activities. The much larger man was seated behind a desk, idly looking over some papers that he had probably already read a few times each. Somehow, Santa had managed to make himself bored during this particularly hectic time, and seemed to think constantly calling on Bernard to pester him about all of the problems, most of which were not legitimate ones, he saw with the toy-making process.
"Has everything been straightened out with that wrapping paper shortage?" The white-haired man inquired.
"Yes. It was straightened out by the end of that day and everything has been in fantastic working order ever since," Bernard assured him, a hint of annoyance in his voice caused by the fact that this was probably the fourth or fifth time he had answered this question.
"You know, that is not the attitude to be taking with the head of the North Pole," Santa told him. "You could easily be replaced by one of the elves that are even older than you are. There's nothing special about being 1,700-years-old around here, Bernard. There are heads of different departments here that are closer in age to 2,000 than you are."
"I know," Bernard admitted with a sigh. "I'm sorry for my attitude. It won't happen again... things have just been a bit hectic around here lately."
Santa didn't reply, just went back to looking through his papers. He wasn't interested in the dark-haired elf's excuses, but he also knew it wouldn't be good for morale to get rid of Bernard this close to Christmas. There would always be time for that after the holiday season was over.
"Go," was all the Christmas icon said, and Bernard immediately obeyed. He was very eager to get away from this man and everything that was associated with him. This Santa Claus was one of the few people who almost made the Arch-Elf dislike Christmas, and that was quite nearly impossible.
After Bernard shut the door to Santa's room behind him, he leaned against it and breathed a huge sigh of relief. If there was ever a Santa Claus he wished would fall off a roof or something so that they could get a new one around here, this guy would be the one.
This chapter is set before the first Santa Clause and is just to set things up a bit. Hope you enjoy it!
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Complaining never really did anything for anyone, right? Sitting around, thinking of all the ways things could be better and how your situation couldn't be any worse was hardly the best way someone could spend their time. Just being positive and realizing that every day brought a new chance for things to change was always a good way to go about things, and that was what any average person might suggest to someone to do if they were feeling a bit depressed about their current standing in the world.
Too bad no one informed Chelsea of this idea. Currently, the sanitation elf was busying herself with pushing her large broom around the main area of Santa's Workshop. The brunette elf sighed as she walked back and forth across the fairly large area, trying to capture every single one of the wood shavings and other random things that littered the floor after the toy-making elves had gone to their cozy little homes. Chelsea wished she was in hers at the moment, but since her job required her to be in the workshop cleaning up all the way in to the wee hours of the morning, she had quite some time left in this work "day".
Of course, calling herself a "sanitation elf" was just a nice way of saying "janitor". Because of the fact that Chelsea had a horrible time with trying to craft any of the beautiful toys that Santa's elves were known for, the 1,545-year-old elf was really only left with the option of working after-hours at the North Pole. She didn't really have an interest in the fancy technology that was used by the elves who worked in the command center that watched for all possible threats to the secrecy of the North Pole. The brown-haired elf also wasn't terribly fond of making hot cocoa and serving it to people all day. Seeing how many new children's names were added to the naughty list each year just depressed her, so working in the list area was out of the question... basically, as it was mentioned before, she had no other alternatives.
"Here comes Santa Claus, here comes Santa Claus, right down Santa Claus lane..." some of the younger janitor elves sang as Chelsea knelt down to collect some of the dirt and other trash particles in to a dust pan. All of them, ranging in age from 300 to 450-years-old, would be promoted sooner rather than later. They were all good at different things, and most of them were entirely careless when it came to their current job position, so it was only natural that they would be upgraded to the main area when they were just a little bit older. Everything was going so well for them...
Chelsea hated to think of the younger elves being moved to the toy-making section as being "upgraded" since it made her job seem fairly insignificant, but that was how she felt everyone else looked at it. She had only been to the workshop during the day a few times and she knew that, despite the fact that most of the elves there meant well, they sort of looked down on the ones who held Chelsea's job. All elves were supposed to be good at making toys and the janitor job was for the newcomers that they didn't have room for on the main-line.
"One day..." Chelsea sighed to herself, quietly, so that the other elves didn't hear and ask her to tell them what she was talking about. That had often too many times for her to try to think about and it didn't bring her much joy trying to get them to leave her alone. These elves, the current batch of them, were cute, perky, and inquisitive. Three traits, which while separate were completely bearable, that she could barely stand when they were combined. Most elves were a mixture of any two of them, or lost some of their up-beat attitude once they got older and were a good deal more tranquil, though still sweet as ever, making them fine to deal with. There were some, though, that seemed to be all three of those for eternity... and that just didn't sit well with Chelsea.
"Chelsea!" One of the youngest elves, Trisha, shouted as she ran up to the slightly-depressed elf, who was currently emptying her dust pan in to a much larger trash container that she would be taking outside to be removed by some of the maintenance elves that would arrive early in the morning. The younger, blonde-haired elf smiled up at Chelsea, having noticed that the brunette looked just a little bit glum at the moment. "Whatcha thinkin' 'bout?"
"Nothing, Trisha," was the reply she got, along with Chelsea's best fake smile. "I've just been thinking about Christmas and how much work we're going to have to start doing to make sure this place is in perfect order for the toy-making elves when they come in. I mean, we've only got a little over a month left!"
"I know! An' I've been really nervous 'cause one of my friends who got moved up t' makin' toys last year, Claire, said that she heard them talkin' 'bout elves that were gonna be moved up to toys after Christmas... and they said my name!" The tiny blonde squealed with delight at the thought of getting to build toys for children all over the world. The fact that she could be helping to make one day out of the year something special for a little kid thrilled her to death, just as it did most other elves, and Chelsea couldn't help but be happy for Trisha.
"That's great, hun," Chelsea said, still giving her that fake smile, though it was toned down a little bit by now. "I'm sure you'll do really well at it and everybody will love you..."
"I hope they do, 'cause I'm really gonna try my best," Trisha told her, but then felt like she was getting off track. A look of concern passed over her face as she gave Chelsea a strange look. All of this talk about not being a janitor elf anymore usually didn't sit well with Chelsea, so why was she being all happy now? "Are you sure you're okay? Seems t' me like ya might be jus' a teensy li'l bit sad 'bout somethin'... do ya wanna talk 'bout it?"
The brunette chuckled a bit, "don't worry, Trisha, I'm fine. Like I said, I was just thinking about Christmas and everything. If I look sad about anything it's because I'm thinking of the mess that's going to be left for us to clean up as that day gets closer!"
"Well," Trisha started, giggling, "I s'pose you're right. But if ya ever need somebody t' talk to, ya betcha that ya can talk t' me, 'kay?"
"Okay, Trisha... now you'd better get back to work with your friends, we've still got a good bit of work to do before the morning," Chelsea told her, shooing the younger elf off with a smile. As soon as Trisha was out of sight, the look of happiness that had graced the older elf's features for a little while disappeared. Yes, she was happy for Trisha, but there was still that nagging voice in the back of her head that told her she needed to get out of the night shift at this place, because no matter how cheerful it still looked, despite the lack of hustle and bustle that made it so much fun during the day, this place was dead at night... and Chelsea couldn't take it.
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"You guys are doing a great job," Bernard, the head elf, told the other elves as they continued to work on perfecting each of the toys they were working on. It was just about a month until Christmas, and though things were just a little bit behind schedule, it looked like it was going to end up being all right as long as they kept up this pace.
Of course, if he could get Santa Claus to believe that, Bernard would be in a great position right now. He wouldn't have so much stress building up if the man in charge would just believe him when he said that things were going smoothly and that he would have everything straightened out. But, no, every other second he was being called up to the office to explain to Santa just what was going on, why it was going on, and how long it was going to take to fix, like it was something that should just go away over night.
As a matter of fact, the problem had only shown up when a sufficient amount of wrapping paper hadn't been prepared for a certain day's work. It caused a build up of toys, which caused the toy-making elves to stop since the wrapping elves couldn't do their job. Everything was cleared-up by the end of the day, but it had left them with just a small deficit in the amount of toys that were ready to be delivered. However, the elves had been working extra hard since that day and everyone, except for Mr. Claus, as he liked to be called, was feeling confident about what the outcome would be.
"Bernard!" came the announcement over the intercom, causing the Arch-Elf to jump just a bit. He never did get used to hearing his name shouted so often, not even after dealing with this guy for two Christmases. This Santa Claus, whose real name was Stewart Casas, was a lot more controlling than the last one. The one before him, which was the first Santa that Bernard was number one elf under, was a pretty easy-going guy who was content to let Bernard take care of things in the workshop. He trusted that the elves knew what they were doing... this new guy didn't. With a sigh, the curly-haired elf hurried off to find out what it was that Santa felt the need to bug him about now.
He really hated not being cheerful. While most people found him to be a bit of a perfectionist, pessimist, and just all-around obsessed with his work, Bernard really did try to put on a happy face for the worker elves that saw him everyday as he walked around to make sure everything was in order. Bernard knew just as well as anybody else what it was like to make toys all day and, even if you enjoyed it, that it got quite tedious after awhile. He did his best to give constructive criticism where it was necessary, but also to heap praise upon the beings that were doing all of this work.
"Yes, Santa?" Bernard said upon entering the office of the leader of the North Pole and its activities. The much larger man was seated behind a desk, idly looking over some papers that he had probably already read a few times each. Somehow, Santa had managed to make himself bored during this particularly hectic time, and seemed to think constantly calling on Bernard to pester him about all of the problems, most of which were not legitimate ones, he saw with the toy-making process.
"Has everything been straightened out with that wrapping paper shortage?" The white-haired man inquired.
"Yes. It was straightened out by the end of that day and everything has been in fantastic working order ever since," Bernard assured him, a hint of annoyance in his voice caused by the fact that this was probably the fourth or fifth time he had answered this question.
"You know, that is not the attitude to be taking with the head of the North Pole," Santa told him. "You could easily be replaced by one of the elves that are even older than you are. There's nothing special about being 1,700-years-old around here, Bernard. There are heads of different departments here that are closer in age to 2,000 than you are."
"I know," Bernard admitted with a sigh. "I'm sorry for my attitude. It won't happen again... things have just been a bit hectic around here lately."
Santa didn't reply, just went back to looking through his papers. He wasn't interested in the dark-haired elf's excuses, but he also knew it wouldn't be good for morale to get rid of Bernard this close to Christmas. There would always be time for that after the holiday season was over.
"Go," was all the Christmas icon said, and Bernard immediately obeyed. He was very eager to get away from this man and everything that was associated with him. This Santa Claus was one of the few people who almost made the Arch-Elf dislike Christmas, and that was quite nearly impossible.
After Bernard shut the door to Santa's room behind him, he leaned against it and breathed a huge sigh of relief. If there was ever a Santa Claus he wished would fall off a roof or something so that they could get a new one around here, this guy would be the one.