"I don't care what power you give me, I just want an escape from my life." you say, seating in the Power Broker's desk.
"Well that's a simple enough matter. However, I can't guarantee you'll like the the life I give you," the Broker replies. He rummages through his files, eventually passing a thick folder across the desk. "I think you might like this one. Comes with a whole list of powers, a costume, a superhero lair and a job to boot."
Flipping the folder open, you're excited at the array of abilities this one power grants you. Immortality. The ability to slow down time to an imperceptible crawl. Innate magical abilities. Can open any locked door and shrink and stretch the body to fit down any sized hole. Enhanced digestive system able to process vast quantities of alcohol and... mince pies in one sitting.
You flip a page. Underneath the word 'Lair' is a picture of a large log cabin festooned with red and green decorations, located in what appears to be Alaska.
On the next page, titled 'love interest' is a picture of a grandmotherly old woman with rosy cheeks and silver hair tied up with a bow, who looks chubby enough to give wonderful hugs.
"Interested?" the Broker asks.
"You want to give me... Santa's powers?!"
"Not just his powers, his whole life, everything! He gave it all up. Said the pressure was getting to him. Pressure, hah! The man works one day a year. So what do you say? Do it for the kids. It'll be a grim, dark Christmas if you don't."
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