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North Pole: 300 years later
A loud, booming voice could be heard, singing and humming along to a jumpy and high beat tune. The man sets a large block of ice on top of a work desk, many tools scattered along the surface.
He rolls up his sleeve, the words "Naughty" imprinted against his skin in beautiful cursive.
"Still waiting for cookies!" The man yells in a happy voice, his tone laced with a thick Russian accent. His helpers, or elves, look up from there spot in panic, their faces caked in crumbs.
The man spins in his seat, his voice rising as he continues to hum along to the tune. His elves rush along, the plate of cookies raised up as they make their way towards him.
He pushes aside a few tools, humming in satisfaction as he picks up a small hammer. He pushes a magnifying glass up, peeking through it, he begins carving away at the block of ice, the pieces falling off, in sync with the music.
He laughs happily, a small ice train in his grasp. He blows on it, the extra bits of ice falling to the ground as he sets the sculpture upon a long train track made from ice.
He laughs as it whistles, sliding along the tracks.
"Yes!"
An elf pauses, looking at his friend and pointing to him with an angry look, gesturing to the tray. His friend spits the cookie, his friend turning in disgust as the man turns to them.
"Ah! Finally!"
He grabs a cookie, munching on it and humming in appreciation before laughing as he watches the train.
The train flies up as he dramatically hums, waving his arms as it grows wings and flies towards the door.
The door was slammed open, a Yeti mumbling gibberish as the train shatters onto the floor. "Ah!" The man exclaims in disappointment, gesturing to the train.
"Oh!" The Yeti gasps, his hands flying to his face.
The man yells in sadness, shaking his hands near his face. "Oh!!" The Yeti yelps, exclaiming in fear.
"How many times have I told you to knock?" He demands with a sigh, his voice full of anger.
