Breaking News!North Pole in Floury Frenzy: Mrs. Claus’ Sugar Cookie Recipe Missing!
North Pole Gazette By Taffy Twinkles, Lead Reporter
In a twist of events, during the annual post-Christmas party, Mrs. Claus’ famous sugar cookie recipe has gone missing!
NonPareil, Mrs. Claus’ sous chef, came running into the festivities, huffing and puffing with tears in her eyes.
“Santa’s Sugar Cookie…huff-puff…is…is gone!!”
This recipe is the key to Santa’s sleigh ride on Christmas Eve. The soft and sweet treat keeps him energized and able to finish all deliveries. Without it…well, no one knows what will happen. The only clues left behind are a few small, floury footprints.
Santa, in a fit of turmoil, turned to our four famous mystery-solving friends. “Mischief Makers…can you find the recipe before next season?”
The four elves, determined to help solve this mystery, accepted the task. But will they find the recipe in time? The clock is ticking, and the North Pole’s sweetest tradition hangs in the balance.
The last of the toys were loaded into Santa’s sleigh. Jingle McStockings sat up beside him with a big smile on his old, craggy face.
“Thank you, Santa.” Jingle’s voice cracked with emotion. “You don’t know what this means to me.”
Santa nodded at the hermit and smiled down at Sparkly. “You did well, Sparkly. And I do hope you have learned a lesson in all of this.”
“Yes, sir. And really, it’s the least I could do.”
“The very least,” Figgy grumbled, still upset at her calling him ‘Piggy’.
“Anyway,” Sparkly continued, ignoring Figgy. “Thank you for allowing me to save face. I’m so sorry for…everything.”
“SPARKLY SPRINKLES!” A short, round, angry man stormed up to the elf.
“G-gilbert, sir, I-I was just coming to see you to–to tender my resignation.”
“Ha! You think I’d let you RESIGN after what you’ve done? Oh I don’t think so missy. You are needed at the Gazette. We have a new assignment for you.”
Sparkly puffed up with pride.
“Oh yes,” continued Gilbert darkly. “We have a very special assignment for you. Very special indeed!”
Sparkly gulped.
***
Sparkly Sprinkles Takes a Northward Trip
North Pole Gazette
Gilbert Gumdrop, Editor-in-Chief
After a season brimming with plot twists, mayhem, and devilish dilemmas, our erstwhile lead reporter, Sparkly Sprinkles, has been shipped off to the far reaches of the North Pole to investigate yeti sightings! Taffy Twinkles, lowly clerk turned newshound, has stepped into the role of lead reporter for all things mischief.
“I’m positively giddy to dive into the world of Mischief Makers and their whimsical antics,” exclaimed Twinkles as she stepped into her new role. “I’m a huge fan!”
Stay tuned for fun and laughter, as Taffy Twinkles unravels the uproarious antics of a mischievous quartet of elves, as they spread giggles and grins throughout the North Pole…and beyond!
Sparkly Sprinkles arrived at the North Pole, ready to confront Santa and demand answers, but as she entered the gates, she knew something was wrong.
To her horror, she found Santa’s workshop in disarray—toys broken, decorations scattered, and the four elves and reindeer she’d been hunting, staring mournfully at what was left of the workshop.
“You!” Glitter exclaimed, her voice a mix of anger and disappointment. The other Mischief Makers shot accusing glances at Sparkly.
Figgy scowled, “What have you done?”
Sparkly winced at the accusatory tone. “Me? Wh-what are you talking about?”o
Nim shook his head in disbelief. “This is beyond mischief, Sparkly. You’ve ruined Christmas for everyone!”
Defensive, Sparkly retorted, “How does this have anything to do with me?”
Nim shoved a crumpled piece of paper at her. With shaking hands, she took it and read the note left by the Grinch Gang.
Dear Santa,
You can thank Sparkly Sprinkles for this mess. We overheard her yapping about confronting you and thought we’d follow her to seek revenge for kicking us out of the toymaking academy all those years ago. Bet you’re regretting that choice! Haha!
Good luck with the clean-up, big guy!
Not-so-Merry Christmas,
The Grinch Gang
P.S. Tell the Mrs. that the cookies were delicious!
“B-but I, I didn’t, how could I have known?” spluttered Sparkly.
“This wouldn’t have happened if you weren’t so bent on getting the best, most sensational story, Sparkly,” shouted Lil.
“Yeah,” added Pixie. “Your ruthless, greedy ambition has ruined Christmas!”
“What in the name of peppermint happened here?” Santa’s booming voice echoed in the cold air.
Santa and Mrs. Claus stood at the workshop entrance, their expressions shifting from shock to heartbreak as they took in the scene before them. Broken toys, scattered decorations, and the once-warm workshop now stood in ruins.
Santa’s eyes narrowed as he addressed Sparkly, “What role did you play in this?”
Sparkly stammered, “I—I just wanted to write a story.”
Mrs. Claus, her eyes glistening with disappointment, spoke with a mixture of sadness and anger, “You’ve not only destroyed the workshop, but they took almost all of the cookies I made for Santa and the elves. How could you, Sparkly?”
Realizing the gravity of her actions, Sparkly’s bravado crumbled. “I didn’t mean for it to go this far. I—”
Santa held up his hand, silencing her. “Enough. We need to assess the damage and figure out how to salvage what’s left of Christmas.”
Head bowed, Sparkly Sprinkles stood in the midst of what was left of Santa’s Workshop. The look of disappointment on the big guy’s face was worse than she could have imagined. She knew she often got a bit carried away with her pursuit of a story, but even she was surprised at just how bad her antics had gone.
“Santa, Sir,” she began. “I am so, so very sorry for…all of this.” She gestured at the destruction of the toyshop.
“While I appreciate your apology, Sparkly, I don’t see how it will help us in our current situation. Christmas Eve is in two days and all of the toys are…well, ruined.”
“Yes, sir.” Sparkly scowled, his words chafing at her already wounded pride.
“What are we going to do, Santa?” asked Nim.
“There’s no way we can make all the toys again in time,” said Pixie with a sniffle.
“It took all year to get every toy just right,” added Lil. “And we only have two days until Christmas Eve.”
Figgy hung his head.
“Wait,” said Sparkly. “I think I may know a guy.”
Eager to salvage something out of the destruction she had caused, Sparkly told them all about Tinker Toy Town and the old hermit who lived there.
“He’s lonely,” she said. “I think if we were to reason with him and tell him of our predicament, we could convince him to help us.”
“And you think he has enough toys and gifts for all the world’s children?”
“Oh yes,” said Sparkly. “I’m positive he has enough.”
As the Mischief Makers approached the northern lights, they heard singing, clanging, and banging. Glitter stiffened, instantly recognizing that off-key, braying, voice.
“Dashing through the snow, in a hot and open stove O’er the steak we go, dashing salt and clove…oooohhhh Garlic here, onion there, with butter on the top, Pepper with its spicy nose, is great on steaks and chops!”
“Hello, Uncle Jinglebob.”
The elves gasped, and tried not to look shocked, but really, who could blame them? They were staring up, up, up at an older, grizzled reindeer wearing an apron and chef’s hat.
“Glitter, m’girl!” With a clatter of utensils and spices flying, Uncle Jinglebob galloped to Glitter and gave her a reindeer version of a hug. “What are you doing way out here? I thought you were at the North Pole hob-nobbing with the big guy?”
Sighing at her eccentric Uncle, Glitter returned the hug. “Yes, I do work for Santa now, Uncle Jinglebob. Let me introduce you to the Mischief Makers and Santa’s Top Shelf Elves.”
Glitter made the introductions while Uncle Jinglebob bowed and smiled and cantered around the kitchen knocking pots, pans and other utensils everywhere in his excitement.
“What’s going on in here, Uncle Jinglebob?” Glitter surveyed the room. Pots, pans, knives, cutting boards, and all manner of cooking utensils covered every surface.
“Oh yes!” he said. “Welcome to my spice haven! I’ve collected these from all over the known world…and a few unknown parts as well!”
“What happened to baseball cards?”
“Oh I built another shack to store that collection. Had to make room for my crazy sock collecting!”
“Crazy socks?” asked Nim.
Glitter snorted. “Uncle Jinglebob is a…collector of sorts.”
“That’s right! Crazy socks, baseball cards, stamps, toilet paper brands, marshmallow snowmen, talking nutcrackers, singing snowglobes and now…spices!
He proceeded to regale them with tales of spice-seeking adventures and culinary escapades. The elves listened with rapt attention, delighted by this big reindeer and his adventures and puzzled by Glitter’s embarrassment.
“Uh, Uncle Jinglebob?” asked Glitter, who had been wandering around the kitchen. “What is this?”
Uncle Jinglebob cantered over to where Glitter was examining a rather large, odd shaped box. It was full to overflowing with spices and herbs.
“That is my spice cabinet!” announced Uncle Jinglebob.
“I can see that, but…it’s an unusual place to store spices.” Upon closer examination, Glitter noticed a small, red, flag.
“Huh,” said Figgy. “That spice cabinet looks just like a—.”
“Mailbox!” Pixie and Lil shouted as one.
Everyone looked at Uncle Jinglebob in astonishment.
“Well, now that you mention it, I did find a few envelopes inside. Let’s see now, where did I put those…”. Uncle Jinglebob began rummaging through the crowded and cluttered counter, throwing plates and knives every which-way. The elves ducked to avoid a butcher’s knife and Glitter took a fork to the antler.
“AHA!” Uncle Jinglebob cried. “Here they are!” With a flourish, he laid the letters out on the now cleared countertop. All were addressed to Santa.
Everyone, except Uncle Jinglebob, gasped.
“Uncle Jinglebob,” began Glitter. “Where, exactly, did you find this mailbox?”
“Oh that’s a great story! You see, I was walking through IcyGlade Forest when I tripped over something sticking out through the ice. I pulled out my icepick collection, and hammered and chipped until I uncovered this cabinet!”
“Uncle Jinglebob, this isn’t a cabinet. This is a mailbox. In fact, it’s the very mailbox we’ve been sent to find.”
“And look!” added Lil, pointing to the address. “All these letters have the wrong address!”
“No wonder they never reached Santa!” exclaimed Figgy.
Santa Claus The North Pool
Uncle Jinglebob’s eyes widened. “Do you mean that all this time I’ve been holding onto letters to Santa?”
Glitter’s eyes softened at her uncle’s expression and dismay. “It’s ok, Uncle Jinglebob. It’s not your fault. The mailbox must have been buried in the ice after a blizzard or a snowstorm passed through the forest.”
“Yeah,” added Pixie. “You found the missing mailbox!”
Uncle Jinglebob smiled, shaking off the melancholy. “I guess I’ll have to find another place to store my spices.”
Guess what? Some nosy reporter from that North Pole rag showed up in Tinker Toy Town. She was yammering about some elves and about getting answers from Santa about some mailboxes. Whatever.
Looks like Santa’s in for some trouble. That’ll show the big man for turning us down as toymakers all those years ago! Meet me behind his workshop in two days. Bring your hammers. We’re turning toys into rubble!
And, hey, let’s make a pit stop in Mrs. Claus’ kitchen while we’re at it. I heard she’s got Santa’s special-recipe cookies stashed away – you know, the ones he loves. A little snack to sweeten our revenge!
Sparkly trudged through thick, wet snow that turned to brown, slushy mud. She grumbled and groaned the whole way and by the time she reached a small town at the base of a tall mountain, she was thoroughly annoyed.
Wiping mud off her shoes, a futile task, Sparkly looked up at a rusty old sign swinging in the wind.
“Tinker Toy Town,” she mumbled. As she gazed around the small collection of buildings that looked more like a small outpost than a town, she caught sight of a gloomy looking tavern and trudged toward the inviting warm glow of the window.
She passed lean-tos with stacks of unopened gifts piled haphazardly to the ceiling. “What in the world is going on here?” she wondered aloud. “There must be 50 or more of these lean-tos all chock full of gifts.”
A deep voice boomed from the shadows. “Might want to ask Jingle McStockings about that.”
Startled, Sparkly spun around to face a large, wart covered creature that could easily have passed for an ogre were it not for his pointed ears.
“And, who are you?”
“I’m Groucho McFrost, resident of Tinker Toy Town.”
“Sparkly Sprinkles, lead reporter of the North Pole Gazette.”
“Reporter, eh? If it’s Jingle you’re after, he’ll be at the pub counting.”
“Counting?”
“Yeah, counting the gifts,” Groucho muttered. “Always counting gifts.”
With that, Groucho McFrost continued on toward the pub.
“Jingle McStockings? Groucho McFrost? What next, Stinky McPew?” Sparkly shook her head as she followed Groucho in search of Jingle McStockings.
She pulled open the pub door and entered a small room with three customers and a bartender. They all stopped talking and turned to face her as the icy gust of wind blew through the room.
“Ah,” said one of the customers. “A stranger arrives as was foretold by the spirits of the past who—.”
“Can it, Norm,” said another customer. “No one wants to hear your prophecy talk.”
Norm shrugged and turned back to his drink while the interrupting customer faced Sparkly and stared at her with suspicion. “Well? What do you want?”
Taken aback by his rude tone, but in no mood to pacify the man, Sparkly matched his tone. “I’m looking for three elves and a reindeer. Have you seen them?”
“No.”
“Ok,“ she said, undeterred. “Then what about Jingle McStockings. Have you seen him?”
“That recluse? He’s in the back room. Probably counting the presents again.” Rolling his eyes, the rude customer jerked his head toward the back of the pub and returned to his drink.
Sparkly headed toward the back , spying a small jolly looking man, pouring over what looked like a very long list.
“8 million and one, 8 million and two, 8 million and 3–”.
“Excuse me,” Sparkly interrupted, intrigued. “I’m Sparkly Sprinkles and I was wondering…well, are you Jingle McStockings?”
Jingle started, peering up at Sparkly with fear, or apprehension. “I am. Who wants to know?”
Sensing this man was not the trusting sort, Sparkly spoke in a gentle, friendly tone. “Well, I’m Sparkly Sprinkles and I’m looking for–.”
“I heard you ask Pete, but I haven’t seen any elves or reindeer. You’re the first stranger to come our way in a long while.”
Jingle tapped his fingers impatiently on his list.
“What is that?” asked Sparkly, curious.
At the note of interest in Sparkly’s tone, Jingle brightened immediately. “It’s my list.”
“List? Like Santa’s list?”
“Oh no. No, no, no, I would never presume to have a list like Santa’s. This is my list of presents I’ve collected over the years. Presents that have fallen from the sky.”
Presents from the sky? Was this elf serious? But then she remembered all the piles and piles of gifts she’d passed on her way to the pub. All still wrapped and waiting to be opened.
“How long have you been collecting these presents?”
“Oh, let’s see…years I suppose. Years and years.”
“And you’ve never opened them? Not even one?”
“Not even one,” he said with a small sad smile. “You see, a long, long time ago, when I was a wee elf, I’d written a letter to Santa asking for a gift I wanted more than anything. Christmas morning came, and they gift I’d asked for never came. I’m embarrassed to admit, I started to doubt that Santa was…real.” The last bit came out in a whisper.
“And now, you do believe?”
“Oh yes! You see, when the first gift fell from the sky, I just knew it was Santa trying to tell me he hadn’t forgotten about me afterall.”
“But, why didn’t you open it?”
“Well, the anticipation I suppose.”
Nonplussed, Sparkly stared in confusion at the little elf.
“Wondering what is inside, the excitement of it, that’s the real gift Santa has given me. I have my excitement for Christmas back and so I cherish each gift for that reason.”
Sparkly, the ruthless reporter she was, saw the potential news value in Jingle’s tale.
But, something in the small elf’s expression told her that if she were to pursue this story, he would never recover from all the publicity. An unfamiliar and uncomfortable twinge of sympathy hit Sparkly as she sensed Jingles’ vulnerability.
“I’m sorry I couldn’t help you find your friends,” continued Jingle, oblivious to Sparkly’s discomfort.
“Yes, well. I don’t know if I would call them friends, but I do need to find them,” she said distractedly.
“Are they in some kind of trouble?” Jingle asked with a worried frown.
“Oh are they ever,” said Sparkly. She paced back and forth a few times, contemplating her next move.
“Right,” she said. “I’m going back to the North Pole, straight to Santa’s Workshop. If I can’t find the elves, I’ll question the big guy until he breaks.”
Jingle’s eyes widened and he scooted away from the intense elf.
With a determined glint in her eyes, Sparkly abruptly left the pub, making a mental note to come back someday and tell Jingle’s story. Nodding at Groucho as she passed through the bar, Sparkly stepped out into the cold and wind, and marched toward home with purpose gleaming in her eyes.
“Stripes! We’ve got them! We’ve got the whiskers!!”
All four excited elves came bursting into the cottage, knocking a peppermint lamp down and shattering a lightbulb full of sprinkles. Glitter, followed behind at a more dignified pace, her eyes bright and shining.
“Well done!” Stripes held out his paw. “Let me see them, please.”
Stripes examined the whiskers closely. “Hmm. Very strange.”
“What’s strange?” asked Nim excitedly.
“Yes, that is odd as well,” continued Stripes, turning the whiskers in the light.
“What’s odd?” demanded Figgy.
“And this…this here, very interesting.”
“Stripes!” cried Pixie and Lil as one.
“Look closely” Stripes waved his paw over the whiskers.
The elves bent their heads to get a better look and noticed the whiskers were shimmering slightly.
“What is that?” asked Lil.
“It’s the Northern Lights.”
“Er…come again?” asked Nim.
“The swirling lights represent the Northern Lights, and you know what that means.”
Nim and Pixie shrugged while Figgy and Lil shook their heads. Glitter remained curiously silent as Stripes’ sharp green gaze bored into her.
“What’s he talking about, Glitter?” asked Lil with a frown.
As Glitter took the whiskers, she let out a resigned huff. “It means I have to go home.”
“Oh that will be fun! We’ll get to meet your folks and —”. Figgy stopped short at the expression on Glitter’s face and decided to drop it or risk being incinerated by her glare.
“Alright,” said Glitter as she turned to leave. “Let’s get this over with.”
“A note of warning before you go.” Stripes’ ominous tone stopped Nim and Lil in their tracks. “Sparkly Sprinkles knows you are in search of this mailbox. I sent her on a decoy path, but she’s clever and won’t be fooled for long. Be careful.”
Nim and Lil nodded their thank you and followed the others down the path that would lead them to the missing mailbox and the lost letters it contained.
Sparkly Sprinkles stirred from her slumber, the delectable scent of gingerbread surrounding her. As her eyes fluttered open, she couldn’t shake the feeling that something wasn’t quite as sweet as it seemed.
“Good afternoon, Sparkly,” Stripes mewed, his eyes filled with amusement.
Sparkly yawned and sat up, looking around the candy coated room, getting her bearings, scheming her next move. “Thank you so much for the hospitality, Stripes. How rude of me to fall asleep.”
The cat arched an eyebrow. “Think nothing of it, Sparkly. All are welcome at the Candy Cane Cottage.”
“Ah, yes,” said Sparkly. “Speaking of ‘all’, I heard you had a few visitors recently.”
Stripes, sensing her curiosity, curled up on a licorice-patterned cushion. “I have received many visitors.”
Sparkly leaned forward, her eyes gleaming. “These would have been very recent visitors. I’m searching for the four elves and the reindeer that follows them around.”
Stripes twitched his whiskers. “Yes, now that you mention it, Santa’s Mischief Makers and their faithful reindeer did stop by recently.”
Sparkly’s eyes widened with interest. “And did they say where they were going…what they were searching for?”
The Candy Cane Cat chuckled. “Nice try, Sparkly. Some mysteries are meant to unfold in due time.”
Stripes curled up on the cushion, his tail whipping around to cover his feet. “Let’s just say that the Mischief Makers are off on a little adventure.”
Sparkly, quickly losing any patience she had left, huffed. “I just want to talk to them, Stripes. That’s all. Just talk.”
“Ah Sparkly, always in pursuit of a good, juicy story,” said Stripes. “I’ve read your column, you know. I know your style.”
“My style? My style is getting to the bottom of this story. These elves and their reindeer pal are missing, Stripes. MISSING! This is the biggest story to hit the Gazette since The Grinch. And I’m going to be the reporter who breaks it. So, please, please if you know anything…tell me!”
The last bit came out as a petulant whine of frustration. Sparkly was desperate. And desperation did not look good on her.
After a long pause, Stripes appeared to give in. “Since, as a few of your more colorful headlines suggest, you’re so fond of a good mystery, how about a little hint?”
Sparkly’s eyes lit up.
Leaning closer, Stripes whispered, “Head south, where the Perilous Reindeer Always Need Knives.”
Sparkly raised an eyebrow, annoyed.
Stripes gave a sly smile. “Head South, Sparkly. You’ll find what you need if you head South.”
“Thanks, Stripes.” Without a backwards glance, Sparkly took off, heading South. The opposite direction the Mischief Makers took.
The Mischief Makers trekked through the enchanted forest, guided by Stripes’s directions. The air was filled with a magical hush, broken only by the occasional nervous giggle from Figgy.
Pixie couldn’t resist marveling at the towering trees. “Imagine having trees that actually whisper. What secrets do you think they share?”
Nim smirked. “Probably the latest gossip from the animal kingdom. Who’s dating who, which rabbit stole the last carrot—”
“Focus, everyone,” Glitter interrupted. “We’re here for a reason—Whiskers from the Whispering Willows. Keep your eyes peeled.”
They trekked deeper into the heart of the forest, the trees growing ever larger, their branches intertwining.
“There,” Nim pointed to a clearing ahead. Five majestic willow trees stood tall, their branches cascading gracefully to the ground. “Those must be the Whispering Willows.”
The elves approached cautiously and the forest fell silent.
“H-hello?” Pixie ventured, waving at the trees. “We heard you have…erm, enchanted whiskers?”
Silence.
Figgy coughed. “And, if you do, can we…borrow them?”
More silence.
Figgy shrugged. “Worth a try.”
The willow trees rustled. “We know why you’ve come, mischievous ones. To earn our whiskers, you must pass our test.”
Nim raised an eyebrow. “A test? What kind of test?”
The trees began to sway. “To prove your connection with the spirit of Christmas, each of you must share a cherished holiday memory.”
Nim beamed. “Oh boy, I’ve got a good one! Remember that year we first met, Pixie? We googly-eyed everything in the fridge and then–.”
“And then dumped red and green jello all over the floor, Figgy, and I.” Lil scowled playfully.
Figgy chuckled. “I remember that. It was a sticky situation.”
The Whispering Willows rustled with laughter. “One memory shared.” A soft silver whisker floated down to Nim.
Pixie took a step forward. “I remember our first night at the Malloys, when they trapped us under a glass bowl in the fridge.”
Figgy shuddered. “The elf trap!”
Lil smiled. “Wasn’t there a bunch of maple syrup involved too?”
The trees swayed and shivered with mirth. “Two memories shared.” Pixie caught a second sparkling whisker.
“Yes,” giggled Pixie. “That certainly was a very Meowy Christmas!”
The Whispering Willows hummed in approval. “Three memories shared.”
Lil grinned. “I remember when we first met, Nim. You didn’t want a partner, but Santa knew how much Issabella and Cheyenne would miss me.”
“Oh that’s right!” said Nim. “I’d forgotten about that. The boys’ cousins were staying with them that season. Oh we had such fun!”
The forest echoed with a gentle applause of leaves. “Four memories shared.”
The four elves smiled at each other, then looked expectantly at Glitter.
Glitter sighed, shaking her head. “I remember being horrified by Nim and his destructive–.”
“Playful!” Nim interrupted.
“Very well, your playful antics. But, I also remember how you both brought fun and joy to my heart. And I thank you.” Glitter bowed her head to Nim and Lil who were smiling so hard their cheeks hurt.
The Willows gushed out a sigh as the fifth and final whisker landed in front of Glitter.
a pinch of homestead 