“It’s no use. He’s not going to be able to do it.”
Father Moonwall sighed at the brother’s statement. Father Pizzaro’s mental decline was continuing at a steady rate. He still had good days where he could function as well as anyone else. Unfortunately, this was not one of them. As much as he had always adored playing the part of Nikolas, it was not something they were willing to risk in front of that many people.
The brother was already dressed in shaggy furs, face sooted and ready to don the mask of the Krampus.
“Father? We still need a Nikolas. We can’t dissappoint the party, and there’s no one else here.”
Old Father Moonwall humphed.
“Very Well,” the old man proclaimed. “Give me the miter. I shall give them a proper Nikolas, as it was when I was a boy!”
(Previous Year: http://cityofnewbabbage.online/reader/node/4258)