The sign, carefully laminated, fluttered in the wind. The little wooden table, set out at the edge of the woods, creaked alarmingly. No one seemed to be around, and there wasn't a house in sight.
Mitch snorted and swept a collection of glass bottles to the ground. "Ridiculous notion! Leaving this disgusting stuff lying around in public!"
Mitch was the sort of old man who disapproved of everything. Already, on his doctor-prescribed walk around the neighbourhood, he had kicked some Christmas decorations, beaten a snowman into an untimely demise with his walking stick, and scolded the local children for singing too loudly. This cheerful time of year was everything he hated.
Edna, his equally grouchy old wife, nodded, tutting. "And to try and tell decent citizens like us what we can and can't do! This is a public park, not this 'Alda's' property."
With that, she grabbed one of the remaining bottles, pulled off the top and took a generous swig.
Moment's later, she sprayed the contents of her mouth all over a sad, half-crumbling snowman that stood nearby.
"What the hell's that? It's foul!"
"Well, it is alcohol," Her scandalised husband commented.
"It is also made with quails' eggs. My own recipe," A tall woman in black was suddenly in front of them.
"This is a private conversation!" Edna snapped, wiping her mouth.
"And that was a private store, too. But you didn't care!" The woman's face contorted at this last sentence hissed between her teeth. Her forehead wrinkled, her nose became look and hooked. She looked for the all the world like a...
"Witch!" Mitch cried.
"Precisely." Her smile was horrible as she drew a wand from the folds of her dress. "And you should never cross a witch, lest you face her wrath."
Edna drew herself up to her full height, a grand 5'2. "We're not going to be intimidated by some silly girl! This is a public park! We have a ri—!"
Whoosh
The sound whistled across the park like wind in the trees, and the crotchety old couple vanished. In their place were two minute elves, complete with Christmas costumes and surprisingly sour expressions.
"You think only of your own rights, and of yourselves. But this time of year is for everyone. So is this park, as you are so fond of pointing out. So like this you shall remain until you can show some kindness and help someone. Not once, nor twice, but three times," the witch declared.
The little girl elf, formerly known as Edna but now sporting a jolly, candy-cane edged name tag that said 'Holly', opened her mouth to object. But the witch had vanished.
"That was your fault." Mitch – or Tinsel, as his name tag declared him – scowled as he spoke.
"It was not!" Holly folded her arms.
This argument no doubt would have dragged on for some time, for the couple loved nothing more than to argue, but at that moment a grisly screech filled the park. Seconds later, a startled cat dived over the little couple and into the woods, mewling in a most distressed manner.
Another bolted by, eyes wide and ears flat.
Then there was a slithering sound, and some disturbing growls. At his new height, 'Tinsel' could see little, but he peeped past a tree branch and saw a horror story come to life.
Sliding along the path, groaning, was a large snowman. It was shedding snow as it moved, and it's forced grin was twisted downwards, pits of coal dropping from it's face. It was the snowman that the witch's eggnog had sprayed, and it seemed to be back for vengeance.
