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2
On the last night before Christmas Pim and Whizzpop were gandering at the sky too, and like Dabbledee, thinking of adventures – at least Pim was. He had been assigned the tedious job of sweeping the hanger where Santa’s sleigh sits idle three-hundred-sixty-four-and-a-half days a year. They had swung the huge bay doors open, and were dangling their legs over the edge of the take-off ramp. ‘Why should the sleigh gather dust here all that time, when it could be put to good use?’ Pim wondered out loud.
Whizzpop raised his white eyebrows and stared. The warm air from inside the hanger mixed with the cold out-of-doors, so they were cozy and shivering by turns. Whizzpop chuckled, his breath forming wispy wreathes that curled around his head, then drifted up toward the stars. ‘What would Santa do with his sleigh on any night other than Christmas?’ he asked.
‘Oh, I don’t know,’ Pim hesitated, thinking it over. ‘He might start a shipping company, Polar Express – Door to Door Overnight Delivery Guaranteed. Or he could go into the tourist business, Northern Lights Sleigh Rides – We’ll Take You Above the Stars. Or….
‘Pim!’ Whizzpop laughed. ‘Will you never settle down, my friend, and behave like an elf?…’
‘He’d need a driver, of course,’ Pim continued. ‘After all, Santa’s getting pretty old. He’s probably only got only one night a year in him…’
‘Pim!’ Whizzpop shouted, almost falling off the dock he was laughing so hard. ‘You’re utterly incorrigible, my young fellow.’
‘Well,’ Pim grumbled, ‘I don’t see why I shouldn’t dream just a little, if dreams are the only way out of here.’
Whizzpop frowned. ‘Getting out of here?’ he echoed. ‘Are you serious? Surely not!’
‘I am in a way,’ Pim answered glumly. ‘I do like it here, Whizzpop – don’t get me wrong. And I wouldn’t ever want to lose you as a friend. And I would miss Santa terribly. But…’
‘But?’ Whizzpop demanded.
‘There’s so much of the world we can’t see from these warehouse doors, Whizzpop,’ the younger elf cried. ‘So much we’ve never looked on, or tasted, or touched. So much we’ve never lived. Doesn’t that drive you crazy? Don’t you feel like a prisoner here, sweeping hanger floors, fixing machines in the toy factory, stacking boxes in the warehouse… Why, we’re slaves to Christmas. Don’t you ever want get away and see other parts of the world?’
Whizzpop thought for a moment, hemming, then hawing, then scratching his head. ‘No,’ he said at last. ‘I like it here. And I get to see quite enough of what everyone calls the “real world” through my ioscope. I wouldn’t trade the North Pole for any place else.’
Now it was Pim’s turn to stare in amazement. He, too, had spent many hours peering into the ioscope. He’d visited tropical forests, desserts, great cities and tiny hamlets. He’d gone to Europe, Asia, Africa, the Americas. He’d skimmed over islands, plunged down mines, stood atop Mount Everest and examined the teeth of a giant crocodile. Pim had gone any number of fascinating places using the ioscope, ‘But darn it, Whizzpop,’ he exclaimed, ‘that’s not like being there. It’s not like knowing the lion your looking at might want you for lunch, is it?’
‘No, not at all!’ Whizzpop agreed heartily. ‘It’s a wonderful instrument, the ioscope. I’m so glad I invented it.’ He patted himself on the chest, he was that proud – and rightfully so, for the ioscope is an instrument worth owning.
‘Enough!’ Whizzpop chided, scurrying round and swinging shut the gigantic hanger doors, forcing Pim to leap out of the way. ‘Have you forgotten what night it is? My goodness, Fanafroo could walk in any moment, and what do you think he’d have to say if he saw us sitting here gabbing while the stars spin in the sky. Sweep! Sweep!’ Whizzpop urged grandly as he made his exit.
‘It’s all very fine for you to say,’ Pim grumbled, pushing his broom about the polished floor. ‘You live your whole life inside that scull of yours, and goodness knows, it’s full of wonders. But I long for a real adventure. I want to see things close up, not at a distance.’
He swept, but as far as Pim could tell the floor was perfectly clean. He didn’t have a single particle of dust to show for all his effort. This is stupid, he decided at last, leaning on his broom and looking for a place where he might rest for a bit. No one will know the difference, he thought. I’ll just have a little nap.
He considered a bench near the door, but judged it too hard and narrow. He thought about the chair next to the mechanic’s table, but then remembered he’d fallen out of one just like it, taking a snooze one time in the warehouse. The floor itself was cold, hard marble, not very inviting at all… Then he set eyes on the nice wide bench of Santa’s sleigh.
‘No, no, no,’ Pim scolded. ‘If Fanafroo came by, he’d be sure to kill me, and what if Santa himself dropped in for a visit!’
He started sweeping again with renewed vigour. But it wasn’t long before the swishing of his broom slackened, then stopped entirely. Finally, Pim gave up even the pretence of sweeping and leaned on his broom handle, marvelling at the gleaming sled, with its silver runners, golden bells, and varnished panels.
So it was Pim’s Great Adventure began, for compared to sweeping, the idea of climbing up into Santa’s sleigh and having a lovely nap seemed much more sensible. ‘I won’t do anything foolish,’ the elf vowed. ‘I’ll just lie down and catch a few winks.’