Don't Call Me Christina Kringle by Chris Grabenstein Page B

from out front, decked out in their fuzzy plumed hats, had to storm into the store and break up the fight in aisle six with their balsa-wood spears.
    Every boy and girl in the city wanted a Dumping Dino—the remote-controlled dump truck that could wondrously transform itself into a Tyrannosaurus Rex. However, three days before Christmas, there was only one left and no other store in town had them! They were a King Tony exclusive.
    Tony Scungilli, the king of the Toy Castle, headed downstairs to Santa’s workshop. Actually, it was just a dingy corner of the basement where two brownie brothers, Gustav and Gizmo, cranked out all the best-selling toys in the store. They were surrounded by rolling bins and boxes full of parts and pieces, widgets and thingamabobs, whatchamacallits and doohickeys—all imported from China: gobs and gobs of unfinished human business.
    â€œFellas?” the toy mogul shouted to be heard over the clatter of plastic snapping into plastic. “You got a minute?”
    The two brothers looked up from their cluttered workbenches. Both Gustav and Gizmo were dressed in carpenter aprons and knickers. They wore eye-googling goggles made out of magnifying-glass lenses so they could see all the pee-wee parts and properly insert all the tab As into all the slot Bs. The goggles made them look like bug-eyed beavers, busily building King Tony’s toys. Their tiny hands were whirling blurs of swirling, non-stop action as they quickly assembled new intricate knickknacks.
    â€œCan’t chat,” said Gustav.
    â€œBusy,” said Gizmo.
    The two brothers were brownies of few words. They let their hands do all their talking. In fact, in the time it took them to say those three words, they had constructed one Wetty Betty and a Bopping Beano Bear who sang lullabies when you bopped him on the nose.
    â€œRight,” said Tony. “I was wondering—could youse guys maybe work a little faster?”
    Gustav cocked an eyebrow.
    Gizmo tilted his head.
    Their hands, however, kept spinning.
    â€œFaster?” asked Gizmo.
    â€œYeah. There’s only two shopping days left ’til Christmas.” King Tony pumped his fist like a cheerleader. “So I need youse two to pull out all the stops, give me everything youse got.”
    To save time, Gustav and Gizmo took turns answering:
    â€œWe …”
    â€œâ€¦ always …”
    â€œdo.”
    â€œYeah,” said Tony, “well I need one hundred and ten percent. Come on. It’s just for two days. Tell you what, youse two pick up the pace, increase production, double your Dumping Dino output, and I’ll give you a big bonus. And I’m not just talking cream and cake, boys. I’m talking cold, hard cash!”
    He pulled two gleaming copper pennies out of his pocket.
    â€œYep. These shiny Lincolns could be yours!”
    The two brownies glared at the pennies.
    And then Gizmo snarled.

Thirty-nine
    â€œYou knew Christina’s father?” Professor Pencilneck said to Smoothie, the newly arrived brownie.
    They were standing in the cellar of the shoe shop and had to raise their voices to be heard over the hammering and clattering and buffing as hundreds of shoes were being marvelously restored to new life.
    â€œYeah. I knew her old man.” Smoothie fidgeted with his diamond earring. “From the firehouse.”
    â€œFascinating.”
    â€œAnd you eyeballed this Christmas present she’s been searching for all year?” asked Nails.
    â€œI sure did. It was, you know, on the fire truck. In a bag.”
    â€œFantastic!” said the professor. “Fate must have sent you here, my friend.”
    â€œYeah. Somethin’ like that. Plus, I got to meet those two hotties, Trixie and Flixie. Va-va-voom. Grrrrr.”
    â€œEasy, pal,” said Nails. “Them two ladies are pals of mine.”
    â€œSorry. I meant no disrespect.”
    â€œYeah, well, just watch your mouth. Me and