(Untitled)
You know what they say: never judge a book by its cover? Sounds like the advice of lax publishers, if you ask me, but somehow those twined words have entered our lexicon of mildly annoying phrases. I've been known to disdain cliches, and yet I resort to one, I know. But this particular kind seems appropriate. Because you can always judge a person
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I herald a season. You know, 'Jack Frost nippin' at you nose'? And all that?
I still ain't sure how I even got that. And still think I do better at being Santa. Then HE ever will. But No. I'm stuck with this ridicules job!... But on the plus side I don't Die... But then I outlive my Not!Family and Daddy's already halfway there.
Oh, I'm not dead. It's just don't live anywhere. Don't exactly havef a home per say. So, keeping books on myself is troubesome. Speaking of which did Uncle Jones even give me back those? And after all. My back pocket can only hold so much till I start feeling it back there. Why do I even live in the North Pole anymore? I don't like anyone there. Maybe I ought to find some forest in Canada. Norway isn't the same without the Vikings and Stone Hedge being used.
Only twenty - two. Least I believe twenty - two is the elven years equal to my humans years. I've lost count. I know it's somewhere in there at leastest. Matter of fact how old was I yesterday? They only gave me one candle...
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Ah, in the literal sense, I-- Santa? I... Daddy? I think I may be a bit lost...
... I see. And the additional information is about--?
Twenty-two, hm? I suppose the nature of your-- Human years? Right, that fits with the... Uhm... I see...
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Speakin' of which he still owes me money.
Who said anything 'bout, Santa and Daddy now?
I still don't see why Daddy doesn't want anyone to know who he is to myself. Why can't I tell everyone Harvey Dent is my papa? Not as if we can't take care of ourselves.
I don't understand... What additional information?
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His lack of sentencing is startin' to bother me...
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