No?" A long pause. Then a thin-lipped smile."I won trophies." I'm not surprised." Suddenly the lips parted in a crooked-toothed laugh."Hahahaha! Leave...him, Jaz. He's all right." he said, roughly mussing up my hair. Maybe a bit too roughly - though better than a broken nose. I started breathing again. But Jaz was not convinced. He was baring an even uglier set of teeth in a vicious snarl."Makes me sick! Fuckin sick. Fuckin queer cunt!!" Suddenly he lunged at me, and I turned away, trying to. Santa works hard. He's only good for three or four hundred years before all this wears him out. So a new Santa has to be found. The clause stipulates how that process takes place." The North Pole works under contract?" Bob grinned. "To who? The Norse Gods?" He giggled, but then stifled it. It didn't seem right for a grown man to giggle."Something like that," said Gwyneth, who appeared to be distracted."Wait," said Bob. "You said Santa works for three or four hundred years before he retires.. More

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