Tales Between the Lines

I.5 Pancakes!

With loud huffing and some heavy coughing, an unlikely apparition shuffled into the knitting room. The old man's wrinkled face was mostly covered by a long whitish beard. It reached down to the broad belt closing his red tunic. This impressive garment, trimmed with white fur, held an adequately impressing belly. The visitor's heavy boots let the floor panels ring until he stopped in front of the perplexed apocalyptians. He adjusted his hat and scratched his bearded chin.

"Well, what do we have here? I didn't count on other passengers when I ordered a taxi."
Spaceship huffed. It didn't like to be called a taxi.

Cat peeked out from behind Destiny. "Are you Santa Claus? Is it Christmas already? Do we get presents?"

Time glared at him. "It's nowhere near Christmas. I should know, I'm Time, remember?"

"Oh, you're Time? So you're the one responsible for this mess?" Santa grumbled.
"What mess?" Time hated to be accused of bad timekeeping.

"Well, someone played around with time, lately. It suddenly stopped, and next thing I know, it's almost Christmas and I'm nowhere nearly prepared for it. I even granted my reindeer a vacation. Now I have no sleigh, hardly enough presents, and must rely on a doubtable taxi service to deliver in time. Wouldn't you call this a mess, Mister Time?"
Destiny stepped up in defence of her new friend.

"Well, dear Santa Claus, please don't blame him so much. I think, this all might turn out to be a lucky stroke of destiny. If Time wouldn't have stopped, we'd never had the chance to meet. May I present you with this Arcturnion friendship scarf? It keeps the cold away, and actually you sound as if you caught a cold lately."

Santa took the scarf reluctantly, marvelled at the tiny knitted hearts and finally bound it around his neck. It clashed nicely with his red-and-white attire.

"Well, if this is a stroke of fate—"

"Not fate, Destiny," Destiny interrupted indignantly.

"—a stroke of destiny, then I'm sure you won't mind to help out with my delivery."

"But we have some apocalypting to do—" began Cat.

"—and we need to have a word with Universe," added Time. "But... coming to think of it, old man... I do have a question for you, too." He took some steps towards the rotund visitor and stopped a mere arm's length from him, his hands clasped behind his back.
Santa's eyes darted nervously between Time and Destiny, the latter watching the exchange with amused interest.

"You're just a single, old bloke on a sleigh when doing deliveries, right?" Time's face was devoid of emotion.

Santa nodded.

"And you're sneaking down all those chimneys, or find other illegal means of entry into the homes of all these children, right?"

"Nothing's illegal about—"

Time held up a hand. "Hear me out. And you have how many customers there, in this single night. Hundreds of millions, maybe?"

"Something like that. In fact, I think I breached the one billion recently. And one of these years I'm planning to top Gangnam Style's number of views on TheirTube—"
"I've seen that," Spaceship chimed in. "Great video. But have you seen the one with the kitten trying to climb out of—"

"Quiet, ship," Time said.

"But, Daddy—"

"Shut up."

"—"

"Where were we?" Time was confused, but then he remembered the person standing in front of him. "So you're doing a billion deliveries?"

Santa nodded.

"And how, pray, do you find the time to do that in one single night?"

"Er... you know..." Santa rubbed his hands then looked at Cat.

Cat gave him a cat stare. The predatory one.

"You see..." Santa looked back at Time, a nervous smile on his lips. "I cheat Time... er, time, the one with the lowercase t."

Time gave him a Time stare. The timeless one. "You? Cheat? Time?"

Santa seemed to shrink at least a few inches—in height, not in diameter. If Time had been Death, the offender certainly would have shrivelled like a snail on hot tarmac.
Destiny nudged her companion. "Maybe we should discuss this over dinner. Don't you feel a bit hungry too?"

"Yes!" Spaceship chirped in happily. "I made pancakes. It's my grandmother's recipe."

Cat sniffed the air and addressed the ceiling as this was the place Spaceship's voice came from. "Can I get mine with fish paste? I love fish pancakes!"

Time turned to throw his timeworn stare at Destiny and Cat.

"You don't take this man's misdeeds seriously enough. It's a major offence for humans to cheat time! Even in lower case."

Destiny twirled a knitting needle in her her left ear, a clear sign she was lost in deep thought.

"I'm not sure Santa qualifies as man. Actually, he's certainly not human but a member of the so-called mythical beings. They stay above human offences. Take other mythical beings, like pixies. They are meant to steal children, which is also considered a major offence by and for humans."

"What?" Time clearly didn't like this turn of things.

Suddenly, a fishy smell drifted through the ship's ventilation.

"Can we go eat now?" asked Cat.

Time raised his right digit but was interrupted by Spaceship's pleading.

"Daddy? Please, won't you at least try the fish pancakes you ordered? They are hot and juicy and straight out of the microwave."

Destiny raised an eyebrow. Luckily, Time knew when he had lost. It happened time and again, these times. Cat and Santa started towards the kitchen. Time shook his head.
"Fish pancakes. Disgusting," he mumbled.

Destiny glanced at the speaker. But Spaceship seemed to be occupied, hopefully with setting the table instead of new culinary experiments.

"Try to see the positive side. Spaceship and Cat are happy, Butterfly was bored enough to fall asleep, and you get to enjoy fish pancakes in the company of Santa."

"And where, pray, is the positive side?"

"Well, we could fall into a black hole this moment. Oops—"

As happens, Destiny had underestimated her powers.