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not deliver Octavia. I know the bird; he can spot bad news in the bundle before takeoff and would have given the job to a condor. When she arrived at the castle stoop, the silver spoon in Octavia’s little mouth was already black with bile, gummed into an ugly wad of metal. Being born into high class was not enough for Octavia; she wanted more. She always wanted more and didn’t care how many millions it cost Daddy.
    Years ago, Octavia wanted a hippopotamus for Christmas. Only a hippopotamus would do. She stamped her feet, launched dishes at the help and put one butler in traction. At Coal Patrol, we said “no way” to Octavia’s wish list and even Santa agreed. We delivered a bag of coal and Octavia took the lumps and broke out the stained glass windows of the cathedral—the one that her granddaddy had built.
    With each Christmas, Octavia’s demands became more and more outrageous. It was easier to know what she didn’t want. And every year, we loaded her up with coal, but it didn’t help. Christmas morning, Daddy would send some lackey on the hunt for whatever Octavia coveted. The hippo, by the way, was so miserable that he developed ulcers. He was dead by the Fourth of July and genuinely seemed glad to go.
    Over the years, Octavia kept a parson and a divorce lawyer on retainer. Octavia Dellora Mercedes Sprague was now Octavia Dellora Mercedes Sprague-Cornwell-Lenox-Upglorious-Philadelphia (Octavia chose not to include “Pytingksy” on her list of husband hyphens because Itch was really just a fling, despite what the tattoo said). Most of the husbands discovered on the honeymoon that they were the Titanic and Octavia was the iceberg, but Lenox treaded water long enough to give Octavia a daughter.
    Cordelia Heatherly Patricia Lenox couldn’t have been less charming had she been made of pus. When it came to the brat torch, Cordelia took up where Mommy left off. Had it been an actual torch, I have no doubt the little lass would have used it to light cigars or orphanages.
    After my elf magic conjured a hippo to chase Octavia around the golf course and shout her faults as a mother, little Cordelia turned into something close to a sweet little girl instead of the reason flamethrowers were invented.
    It was good to love your work, but I wasn’t done.
    My next mission was Glen Page. Years ago, little Glen told Santa that all he wanted for Christmas was his two front teeth. We let him gnaw on a little coal instead because the truth was that Glen lost his two front choppers breaking into the school cafeteria to steal chocolate milk and meat loaf on a stick. Glen had not expected the shop teacher to be introducing the librarian to a little woodwork in the cafeteria freezer. When Glen opened the door, the surprised Mr. Cloniger grabbed a frozen meat loaf on a stick and clobbered Glen right in the mouth, sending his front teeth over the slaw.
    At the North Pole, we thought Glen’s dental gap and huge library fees would have taught him his lesson. The opposite was true. Glen became a Peeping Tom and was raising Glen Junior, a child who would only inspire happiness in others if he was playing with a grenade and the pin was pulled.
    To help Glen change his ways and inspire his kid to do the same, I cornered Glen outside the window of a sorority house and flossed the old man with a ball bat.
    I was making progress. Kids and parents were getting the message. It was easy.
    It was too easy.
    I didn’t think anyone would figure it out.
    But somebody snitched on me.

CHAPTER 9
    Stink, Stank, Stunk

    I almost didn’t hear the knock at the door, the tapping was so quiet. The hour was late and I wasn’t expecting company. I hadn’t been around anyone except the human parents I was slapping around, so I went to the door hoping for some Holly Jolly elf companionship. When I opened the door, what I saw shook me right down to my socks.
    Santa looked like he was made of rope, he was so skinny and gangly. The Fat Man was spread thin. The