Benny’s stool was his favorite stool, probably because it was the only one he ever had. It was a perfect sized stool, as it allowed him to comfortably slide his legs underneath the work bench. So many of Benny’s dreams reminded him just how special his stool was, and so many of his dreams reminded him of many a day where he sat on his favorite stool, doing the things that he loved to do.
He was sure that there were millions of other stools in the world, just as sure that he was that many of those stools had found as great a home as his had. He sat on his very own stool, with his legs tucked down underneath, and his hands clasp together in front of him upon the smooth surface of the work bench.
He noticed the bandage on his right pinkie. The candy canes seemed to dance as he slowly removed the finger wrapping. With a smile, he saw that the injury had healed quite nicely, so he didn’t return the bandage to his finger. Instead, he looked up at the enormous clock on the wall above the third floor balcony railing. He noticed that it was three minutes to the hour, so he quickly slid his stool back, stood up, turned and dashed to a large waste canister along the wall of the very long, very high room. Making his way back to his stool, he sat and slid forward until his legs once again snugly fit under the bench.
He looked up to notice a dozen pairs of eyes staring directly back at him. Smiling, Benny clasped his hands again and looked back up at the very old clock.
One minute to.
The room was as quiet as a church mouse could ever have hoped to be.
With a startling toot of a whistle on the wall, the room suddenly burst to life with a hustle and bustle rarely seen south of the north. Benny looked down the work bench to his left, then to his right. As far as he could see, hands became alive with precision of craft. The noise soon became a sweet harmonic symphony that filled Benny’s pointed ears with a familiar, friendly tone.
He looked down to the bench surface in front of him, and smiled. Reaching out with his right hand, he grabbed a wooden mallet and pulled it close to his chest. Spinning the tool in his hands, he again looked down the table to his right.
One more time, he smiled.
The worker to his right, whose name was Huey, placed two wooden pegs inside two hollow holes, on one wooden surface, of one side, of one wooden object. Pushing the pegs into the holes as far as he could, he then looked to his left, nodded to Benny and slid the object right in front of him.
Staring down at the small wooden structure, Benny licked his lips and flipped the object onto its side. Cocking his head to the left, he spun the wooden item a quarter turn and then grabbed his wooden mallet with his right hand. Firmly grasping the object with his left hand, he carefully tapped the wooden pegs deep down into the holes, until they became flush against the surface of the object.
Feeling the ends of the pegs with his fingers, he smiled and quickly slid the wooden toy truck to his left, towards the one named Mo.
Benny nodded to Mo, then reached up to adjust his peppermint hat. Feeling comfortable again with the fit, he turned his gaze back to his right and clasped his hands once again.
With mug in hand, the bearded one slowly walked up behind Benny, leaned over, placed a hand on his shoulder and whispered in his ear.
As a smile slid across Benny’s glowing face, the bearded one squeezed his shoulder and smiled as big as the North Pole.
As Benny’s eyes continued growing as large as a full arctic moon, Santa leaned back, ran his hand down his thick, white beard, looked up over the top of his spectacles and down the long, busy work bench. He smiled and took a long, savory sip from his timeless mug of hot chocolate.
The busy sounds from the working elves rose up and echoed throughout the tall room as Santa turned, chuckled and slowly made his way down the long line of skilled workers.
A large chalk board hanging from the tall wall behind Benny read, “3 Days until Christmas!”
Making his way down to the end of the work bench, the bearded one turned, raised his mug and shouted, “Merry Christmas Everyone!”
The room grew quiet, and then with a collective, arctic roar, the entire elfin workforce turned to the ancient Spirit, raised their hats and shouted in unison, “Merry Christmas Santa!”
Again, the room quieted as the giver of the gifts turned and silently slipped out through the heavy wooden doors.
The smiles made their way up and down the long line of workers as they stared at one another.
With an amazing holiday rush of precisioned movement, the room became alive again with the hustling bustle of the Christmas spirit.
Smiling, Benny licked his lips, adjusted his stool, grabbed his mallet and quickly began tapping down onto a fresh pair of wooden pegs.