Chapter 2: A disaster involving cinnamon

Timothy fell asleep about an hour later, eyes glued to the three fun-having elves under George’s bed. They whispered, and giggled, and poked George in his hanging arm time and again. Sometimes they blew out some more confetti from the empty palms of their hands, and sometimes they made faces at him, pulling at their ears and crossing their eyes.

Around two o’clock, he jumped up. A pair of feeble hands were pulling at his leg.

Another one was holding his nose, and he felt quite like he couldn’t breathe anymore.

Hinky was sitting on his chest.

All three elves were thrown off the bed.

“We need food. Can you make us a cup of hot chocolate? And some gingerbread? Please...” they choired, batting their eyelashes innocently.

“I can’t. Sorry. Jena’s going to have a fit if I do. She weighs the cookies and the cocoa, and just about anything we have.”

“Cookies?” they repeated in a choir, and before Timothy could open his mouth again, they were off through the door.

“Oh, no, no, no... What am I going – Come back, elves!” Timothy whispered loudly, wrapping himself in the blanket to follow them down the stairs to the freezing-cold kitchen.

He ran as softly as he could. This was it – the night when he would get thrown out. The elves were definitely making an infernal noise without giving the faintest amount of consideration to the trouble in which he was about to get.

″—no milk—” Timothy could hear as he paced fearfully.

And then, BANG! went the cookie jar, presumably against the counter. And then its breaking scream echoed through the Orphanage. Timothy covered his ears, expecting Jena to shoot out of her room and give him a spanking and the directions to the door.

But it didn’t happen.

“Absolutely hysterical!” Hinky kept repeating. “These cookies are stale! Ew! And there is no milk. And no gingerbread. I most honestly dislike this place. Poor – what’s his name?!”

“Tim-something, I think,” answered Stinky, sprinkling some sugar on a slice of bread which he threw into Timothy’s face without even tasting it. “Mouldy!”

Timothy numbed in the door. There were cookies everywhere, covered in the broken glass of the jar, and there were crumbs all over the floor. Dinky was, as quietly as always, trying to shake some off the sole of his yellow right sock.

“Oh, my God! Elves? You need to stop it. How am I going to explain this to Jena? She’ll—”

“Tim-something! Good morning! Would you like a cup of cocoa?” inquired Stinky, shaking the powdered-cocoa jar heartily.

“The lid doesn’t fit properly! Don’t—”

But Timothy bit into his thumb instead of finishing the sentence, as the outburst of brown powder covered the wall and the counter.

“By my striped socks! It’s snowing!” Stinky cried happily and threw himself on the

counter flailing his arms up and down to make a cocoa angel.

Little Timothy shook. He didn’t know what else to do but grab the cinnamon pack in the upper drawer and hide it under the blanket he wore.

“Stinky! Hinky! Put an end to it! Dinky, stop jumping around! You’re crushing the cookies! Look at the mess you’ve made! Oh, God! Jena’s going to –”

“What’s that smell? Could it be—” Stinky inhaled deeply and took a few steps forward.

Timothy retreated. The elf was obviously picking up on the scent.

“Cinnamon,” whispered Stinky happily. “Hey Hinky! Dinky! Can you smell this?”

“Oh, spare us! You stink of it! Tim-something, you’d better get away,” advised Hinky in a bored voice. “Cinnamon drives him mad.”

So, Timothy broke into a run with Stinky close behind. They went up the stairs to the common room, and down the stairs to the laundry room. They ran past all the doors on the first and second floor and ended back on the ground level. Timothy saw no other way but to lock himself in the kitchen and, as he ran inside, he very graciously delved, face forward, into the tiled ground.

“Give me the cinnamon!” hollered Stinky, landing on his back and fighting to unclench his fingers. “Give – it – to - me!”

“Let go! You can’t have it! Don’t you understand? Stop it! Stinky!”

A door opened somewhere on the first level. Timothy’s heart stopped. The sound of heavy paces followed. The boy shivered. He let go of the cinnamon pack that Stinky tore open and poured down his throat.

“Get off! Now!” Timothy snarled. “I’m dead... I’m done! Oh, God!”

Pointy ears started to tremble to the rhythm of the furious heavy steps. Timothy looked around. He had to think fast, but he could not hide under the table, because he would be spotted instantly, and he could not hide under the sink, because he didn’t fit anymore. He very seriously contemplated jumping out the window – it was the ground-level window, after all, but the window was barred. And if he ran for the door, she would be there to wave goodbye. Forever. He curled on the ground and started to sob, just to make matters worse.

But the elves suddenly grabbed at his arms and pulled him out of the way. Then, they blew their mesmerizing confetti in the air and time suddenly started to run backwards, restoring everything to what it had been.

When Jena walked in, the only thing amiss was the number of crushed cookies in the unharmed jar atop the counter. She rubbed her eyes, made a snide remark, and left the kitchen.

“I can smell the disappointment,” whispered Dinky. “I bet she would have liked to find chaos and blame it on somebody. I strongly dislike her.”

“So do I,” Timothy whispered, wiping the blood off his upper lip. “This doesn’t look good.”

He stared at the red stain on his fingers and gave Stinky the bad eye. The elf shrunk in a corner and shielded his face, staring back at him through his fingers.

“If this happens again, you will have to go.”

“Ha-ha!” Hinky snorted.

Timothy frowned at him, and the elf retreated carefully, searching for Dinky who had disappeared behind the boy.

“All three of you will have to go,” said the boy. “I can’t have you tearing this building to pieces.”

“I knew we shouldn’t have come,” complained Stinky. “This was a mistake. Hinky insisted... And I said to him, I said ‘Hinky,’ I said, ‘we should not go to that particular ugly building where there are no flowers and no trees, and not an ounce of happiness!’ But does Hinky ever listen?”

“He never listens,” wailed Dinky, pulling the hanging blanket over his head. “He never listens and he always gets us in terrible trouble.”

Timothy could feel the blanket slowly slipping away as Dinky started pacing about with its other end on his head.

“Of course he doesn’t...” followed Stinky. “He thinks he’s oh-so-smart, he does! He walks in old Klaus’ bedroom and stuffs his pockets with bangers. He makes them from paper and uses long fuses, and he lights them, he does. Old Klaus always punishes the three of us for all of Hinky’s wrongdoings, when his pants explode, when he wakes up with ribbons in his beard, when he finds himself chewing on rubber pancakes and when the snow stops falling!”

“I don’t— He doesn’t! Oh, shut up, Stinky! You terrible liar, you!”

The boy heaved at the blanket, throwing Dinky off his feet, and the latter rolled under the table and squeezed in among the chairs.

“It can’t possibly be anyone’s fault that the snow stops falling,” he whispered, rubbing his sleepy eyes. “So, what will it take to make you sleep, elves?”

The three little boys gathered around Timothy.

“My sock is torn,” said Dinky, shoving his pink, fat toe in Timothy’s face. “This little piggy is cold. If you sow it for me, then I’ll go to sleep. I promise.” He batted his long eyelashes rhythmically and Timothy barely refrained from patting the top of his head as his large ears flapped with his every move.

“And my bell is broken. It doesn’t jingle anymore, see?” complained Hinky, shaking the large ornament on the long end of his red velvet cap. “Can you fix it?”

Timothy shook the bell unsuccessfully. The piece inside must have fallen while they were busy ravaging the kitchen, he thought, so he threw a quick look around.

“And my right ear itches. Can you scratch it for me? Right there, on the top. And don’t pull at it, Tim-something!” he said threateningly. “It’s not funny. Old man Klaus always pulls both of them when I – presumably – upset him. It’s how they came to be so long and full of personality.”

“Yeah... you should be careful there. Hinky is very sensitive about his ears. He might get offended or something,” said Hinky, breaking into laughter. “He polishes them and hangs ornaments by their tips. Old man Klaus always says that he’ll hang them on the wall to replace the antlers in his room... when we’re gone forever...”

All three elves fell silent. One climbed a chair, the other sat down on the cold tiled ground, and the third started to sing.

Jingle bells, jingle bells,

Jingle all the way,

Oh, what fun it was to ride

In a one-beast open sleigh...

Jingle bells, Klaus is angry

He will make us pay,

Hinky’s guilty, Dinky’s innocent,

Jingle all the way!

Dashing through the dust, one cold Christmas noon,

Hinky wished the lonely sleigh would fly him to the moon.

He packed up a sandwich, told Dinky to get in,

And then he danced and then he sang,

‘oh, let the fun begin!’ Oh!

Jingle bells, Klaus is mean,

Stinky is a victim,

He took the reins cause Hinky cried,

‘There’s Fluff! Old Klaus just kicked him!’

Jingle bells, jingle bells,

Rudolph’s red nose froze,

It didn’t glow and it fell down,

So, Rudolph lost his nose...

We didn’t know the way up to the twinkling stars,

The night was dark and we were scared we would end up on Mars,

Cause Hinky pointed up, the planet was quite red,

It glowed and winked so Hinky said to use red Mars instead

Of— Rudolph’s nose, Rudolph’s nose,

Klaus was kicking Fluff,

The sleigh was missing, the reindeer noseless,

Klaus had lost all his stuff.

Jingle bells, Klaus was mad,

Fluff was getting tired,

We thought we’d shoot at evil Klaus,

The firework... misfired.

We turned the sleigh around, the moon was high and white,

I couldn’t see because the night was really, awfully bright!

Dinky grabbed my sleeve; he tore my best pullover,

As old-man Klaus was scolding Fluff

We dived to run him over.

Jingle bells, Klaus is evil,

He bullies all his elves!

He yells and fumes, and loves to laze

And chain elves to his shelves...

Oh! Rudolph’s nose, Klaus could see

Was resting on the ice,

He bent over and picked it up,

What came next wasn’t nice.

’Cause kids love all his toys, they leave cookies and milk,

Klaus takes and packs the milk and cookies and sells them to his ilk.

We hate his toys and hate him too, we slave until we tire,

So Hinky, Dinky and little Stinky set his toys on fire!

Hey!

Little Timothy was startled. He wrapped the blanket tighter around his freezing body and, for a moment, he rested his chin in the woolly texture. But Stinky was not done just yet.

“On the first day after Christmas, old Klaus gave to us—

Three stupid names, and thus:

On the second day after Christmas, old Klaus gave to Hinky,

A spanking and a shovel.

On the third day after Christmas mean Klaus gave to Dinky

The same fate as Hinky and Stinky.

On the fourth day after Christmas, bad Klaus gave to us,

Three stupid names, a spanking and a shovel, and he cursed us to vanish and thus,

On the fifth day after Christmas, the elves all gave to us

A farewell party from hell.

On the sixth day after Christmas, Mrs. Klaus gave to us

The honour of cleaning up.

On the seventh day, we packed; Klaus set our bags on fire,

He said it would serve us right.

On the eighth day after Christmas, everybody gave us

A farewell party from hell, the honour of cleaning up, and our stuff was set on fire—

“Okay, I get it!” cried Timothy. “Enough with the singing, please...”

Stinky wrinkled his freckled nose. The tips of his ears looked like they were going to catch fire too.

“But there are four more lines! You have to listen to the whole song. It took ages to put together...”

“I must get back to bed. If Jena checks—”

“Will she turn on the lights? Will she look under the cover? Will she check for a pulse?”

Timothy hesitated. “No... I think not... Definitely no!”

The elves lined up in front of him, elbowing each other and giggling. Timothy checked himself in the mirror of the dirty window. He looked all right, even though his hair looked rather messy, and his eyes were red with fatigue and fear. At the end of the day, he didn’t care anymore if he would be thrown out of the Orphanage and that Jena hated him because he was “not fit for adoption and because he was using up their resources”. After all, it was not his fault for being unwanted.

“What’s so funny?” he asked and found in his reflection that he too was starting to smile due to the contagious elves’ giggles.

“Well, you should have seen your face!” said Stinky. “Check for a pulse! Good Christmas, this is positively hysterical!” he said, choking on his own laughter. “Listen, Tim-something, we’ve sealed the world in a bubble. You are, so to speak, where you should have been right now, and that is in bed, but you’re not... err... how do I put this?”

Hinky yelled at Dinky who was slapping his own flapping ears and making an infernal noise, then he said, “It’s a stuffed you!”

Timothy was surprised, but he didn’t want to ask any more questions. Instead, he reached for Stinky’s right ear and started to scratch its pointy end. The elf’s big eyes shimmered with innocent tears.

“You are a good boy, Tim-something. I knew it to be true! And then I said to him, I said—”

“Shut up, Stinky!” whispered Hinky.

″—There is this boy –”

Hinky grabbed him by the ear and pulled so hard that Stinky let out a squeal.

“Why did you do that?” asked Timothy, stupefied and angry. “He was just being nice, he was!”

Dinky hiccupped, and his ears flapped to the rhythm. “He spills the beans. He always spills the beans!”

“This is insane,” Timothy muttered under his breath. “I’ll look for a needle and some thread, Dinky. Stay right here!”

He made a few steps and turned to look at the elves. They were all waiting patiently, filed in a comic line of flapping ears, pointy ears, and curly red hair, so Timothy ran to the common room and stole a needle and some thread.

He wasn’t particularly good at sewing, but he had to do it for every other child-resident of the Orphanage, so he didn’t mind helping Dinky with his torn sock and his freezing “little piggy”.

When he was done sewing the sock – which Dinky refused to take off – he took a coffee bean and pierced it through with the needle, then he hung it inside of Hinky’s bell.

“Time to go to sleep, elves,” he wished to say, but no sooner than he opened his mouth, he woke up, fully rested and with no worries in mind, in his own bed, when the old lady called him down to breakfast.

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