For the North Pole's resident mouse, Sweet Tooth, nothing is more successful at getting her out of bed than the smells from the kitchen when the Council is in. 

Luckily for her as a mouse, there is little grooming to be done. No outfits to choose, no weather to consider when picking a hat. She arises from her slumber and makes her way into the kitchen. 

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Sweet Tooth silently pulls a spoon out of the holder near the milk frother. The bowl of the spoon is the perfect size. It requires several sugar packets, one stirring stick, and a precariously balanced cinnamon sifter. 

Sweet Tooth straps on a helmet made out of an empty creamer cup and sits in the bowl of the spoon.

Grabbing the stirrer stick, Sweet Tooth pulls it, allowing the cinnamon sifter to land on the lifted edge of the spoon. 

As calculated, Sweet Tooth launches into the air at a lovely arc over the espresso machine. But there must have been a miscalculation in her math, for she overshoots the candy bowl and lands on the old man's shoulder.

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Using a needle-like trinket and a bit of string, Sweet Tooth crafts a cunning Santa hat. No sweet is safe now. 

Sweet Tooth emerges from the pocket, not as a mouse, but the newest delegate. Who is to say the mice do not have their own Santa?

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Sweet Tooth wiggles a cup free from the stack by the milk frother. It's a bit cumbersome, but she fits better than expected.  

But miscalculations were made. Eye holes should have been cut before she went inside the paper shell. 

Sweet Tooth's cup disguise hits an obstacle. Could this be it? The bowl of sweets?

The cup lifts slightly and Sweet Tooth pokes out just enough to pilfer some of the sweets! [give: CANDY 2]

Getting greedy, Sweet Tooth tries to go for more candies, accidentally pushing the cup over too far. She tumbles to the ground inside the paper cup. 

Santa's voice echoes through the chamber. "The Christmas season is one of hope and happiness. Who really needs to be punished? What good does coal do?"

"Coal is just the beginning!" Krampus elaborates. "The world is full of terrible, monstrous people. Should they get presents? Do they deserve them?"

"What bad ever came out of kindness?" 

"If you reward those who are cruel and despicable, you belittle the rewards you give to those who earned them!" 

Shouts from every delegate drown out the two debaters as the topic divides those present. A fist fight breaks out between Mikulas and Amu Nowruz while Nisse throws confections at the assembly.

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Like the kitchen, the pantry is about ten times bigger than anything should ever be. 

Literal tons of sugar, cocoa powder, and baking supplies line the shelves that seem to go on forever. 

Near the back of the world's largest pantry, Sweet Tooth notices the flicker of candle light and the whispers of conspiracy.

A group of elves sit hunched around a couple of candles, their voices low. 

"It all goes down tonight." The shortest of the group whispers.

Sweet Tooth may eat more pastries and candy than the average human, but she is not a plump mouse.

This is an important fact that she points out to the Cat.

While she may look delicious, there is naught more than a snack here to be had, something that would make such a large cat even more hungry than before.

There really is no use in eating something as puny as herself.

The Christmas Cat considers this.

"A negotiator, I see." It sits on its haunches. "Perhaps you are worth more than the measly meat on your bones."

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Gryla groans, shaking the arm chair with her displeasure. "Those rotten boys! Do you know what the gift for Christmas used to be for those children?"

Sweet Tooth shakes her head.

"Not getting eaten!" Gryla cackles.

"Now they expect trinkets and toys! A stupid potato left in their shoe is 'punishment enough' according to my sons."

She sighs, making a noise like a sack of rocks being shaken. "That's no punishment. A potato is still food. Still something they can use."

Gryla tosses the list aside. "I'm outdated, aren't I? The world doesn't need a cruel old troll to punish their children, they've got climate change to worry about."

Sweet Tooth thinks of the densest fruit cake she can remember and munches away at the knot.

Had she not been thinking of fruit cake, she may have considered what a bad idea it was to cut the only thing keeping her from falling.

When it does came to mind, as the snaps of the final burlap threads remind her of her task, it is too late for Sweet Tooth.

The burlap bag tumbles out of the air as thirteen Yule Lads run frantically around underneath trying to catch the sack and one very useful mouse.

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Mice aren't really made to fly. Or glide for that matter. Unless of course you're thinking of the sugar glider which is also not a mouse.

But Sweet Tooth will do anything for something sugary and digestible.

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While most people don't think of it, mice do indeed have elbows.

Unlike humans, however, their elbows do not grease.

No matter how much effort Sweet Tooth put into removing that jar lid, she had no elbow grease with which to put into it.

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Calling this location a library is like Sweet Tooth calling a pantry, "kitchen". It is full of things that belong in a kitchen, but without the actual functionality of a kitchen.

The Yule Lads' library is a room, that is without a doubt. A cozy little room not far from the workshop.

Instead of hardback novels and reference material neatly stored on shelves, the room was stuffed full of rolled up blueprints, faded and abused manuals, and guides on everything from bicycles to aerospace design.

The Lads did not need an organization system because wading through the designs to find what they were looking for always resulted in finding other great ideas.

"Did you see that? Did you -- I did it!" The elf cheers, pointing at the round puck beyond the goal post pegs. 

The locals high five him and pat him on the back. 

"Great! You're getting the hang of it."

The peculiarity of one of Santa's elves not being overburdened with work was something Sweet Tooth felt the need to investigate. 

The elf is not wearing their uniform, those sunglasses are definitely not standard issue, and Sweet Tooth is pretty sure that the blue drink in his hand is alcoholic. 

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Sweet Tooth stretches the slingshot to its breaking point. 

With all her strength pulling back the slingshot, Sweet Tooth has very little time to aim. 

When she releases it, the stone launches across the sand. 

The word 'launch' here is not used lightly.

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"Oh, you look tired." He observes. "Perhaps you need something to eat. Mice like cheese right?"

Sweet Tooth may be tired, but not as tired as she is of that stereotype. 

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Sweet Tooth walks up to the sand castles, architectural marvels made out of a simple material. 

She explores them, enjoying for once a residence of majesty that is her size. 

Elegant watchtowers, fortified walls, and you can't beat the seaside location. 

Sweet Tooth is about to start picking out her bedroom when she remembers her task.

The shopkeeper is happily occupied helping customers pair the best colors and find the right tools. 

She won't noticed a packet of origami paper missing from the front counter. 

Sweet Tooth waits until the shopkeeper is fully engrossed in a discussion of the uses of pulp paper to make her move. 

She skitters across the counter and grabs the paper on the tabletop. On the way across the counter, Sweet Tooth accidentally knocks over the shopkeeper's coffee. 

The sound of a spilled beverage in a paper shop is an alarm like no other. 

The shopkeeper immediately notices the heist!

As Sweet Tooth runs to the door, following quickly on the heels of a patron, the shopkeeper turns her attention to the coffee spill rather than pursuit. 

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The man at first seems insulted by the idea that his sweets require a taste tester, but soon warms up to it. 

"Is there too much salt in the crust? What about the berries? Too much sugar?" He asks, handing over ohelo berry tarts for sampling. 

Sweet Tooth nibbles on the decadent offerings and gives him much needed feedback. 

The dough should be chilled before it is par-baked in order to keep the butter from melting too soon. 

He takes notes, thanking Sweet Tooth profusely since he has a batch to make for the upcoming Kalikimaka celebration and wants them to be perfect. 

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On the beach, a party celebrating Makahiki gathers around a bonfire. 

Feasting on their roast pig and playing games in the last glow of the sunset, Kanakaloka takes a big sigh. 

"I guess part of me wants to cling to the job because I want to feel needed."

They watch the kids play in the sand and someone tell a story about the stars over dessert.

Kanakaloka smiles. "But Christmas was born out of a need that has been fulfilled long ago." 

"I think it's time we sit back and celebrate the success."