Dear Diary - Well, I'm not sure just how long I've been here, but it's got to be pretty close to Christmas Eve by now. I've been listening to the guards here and there is something really strange about most of them. For one thing, I don't know who they are. I've been keeping track of ever single kid, naughty or nice, for the last 100 years or so and I don't know these people. It's like they are not real. I'm also pretty disappointed in my elves. Why didn't them come looking for me when I never came back from Japan? And who answered the phone in the barn that time I managed to snag a guard's cell phone? Was it an elf? A reindeer? Too many questions. Anyway, I'm determined to keep a jolly outlook no matter what happens, but just in case I'm going to put my experiences down in this diary. While the elves are good with wagons and toy trains, this new generation of 64-bit video stuff gives them awful headaches. That's why I made a deal with Nintega Video Games in Japan to buy some of the video chips at wholesale (I never pay retail, just for the record.) Mickey usually makes pick ups, but Gorf had convinced me that we needed him helping out on the new Scooter line, so I took the sleigh out out for a trip to Japan. At the time, I figured Rudolph and company might just want to get in a little flight time in before the big day. Things went well at Nintega, but to be honest all that bowing was getting to my back. Candy's been after me to loose some of the "belly's jelly" and maybe she's right. Anyway, I was there for about an hour and had lunch with Rocaan-san, the head of the company. Very nice - top 10% of the "Nice" list. At least that's what I thought until I woke up locked in this room with a wicked headache. Figured out they must have stuck something in my food. I don't know what made me eat sushi in the first place. I'm really more of a cookie and milk kind of guy. Candy, that's my missus, she's here somewhere, too. I still don't know how they got her, but I get to see her briefly every day. She's being kept somewhere else. It's pretty smart, because they know I won't leave without her and even if I could get out of this stupid sleigh garage they are keeping me it, I'd have to find her before we could escape. The part that really ticks this old elf off is that they are keeping me in my own facility. We never had locks on anything (threat of being put on the naughty list used to keep people honest). Now you need some kind of plastic credit-card key to get all of the doors open. The guards all have them, but I don't. Hey, something seens to be going on. I just heard an explosion!

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