The Christmas present ticked rhythmically behind the long sofa.

The housemaid shuffled about, reluctantly preparing her master’s breakfast of tea, hardtack, and a shot of rum, as she had done for years. Because today was special, she placed a tiger lily on the tray.

The bedroom door banged open. “Ahoy, wench! Where’s me grub?” He twirled his mustache with his hooked hand.

“Open your present first.”

He hastily leaned over the sofa and slit open the present. Muffled cries, crunching sounds, faint ticking. Silence.

The crocodile burped. A boy flew in the window.

“Oh, Peter! Let’s go home now!”