"No! Leave it there!" shouted Elf-Dude. "It'll make a good addition!"

He looked up. "Yo! Santa! Lower that cable, man!" And a three-quarter inch steel cable, a large hook on the end, thudded to the top of the debris pile. Having missed Elf-Dude by only a fraction of a micrometer, he pulled is belt away from his body and sniffed inside his pants.

"Thank goodness! Still clean inside! Thought for a minute there...."

He took the hook and hooked it (what else could he do with it?) to the underside of the trapdoor to the Whine Cellar and stood up and tall to his full height of point six eight meters.

"Yo! Fat Boy! Pull 'er taut!" he shouted again, and the cable snapped tight, humming slightly. Elf-Dude scrambled again to the top of debris and asked the sea of upturned faces, "That's done! Now...which one of you cats are gonna be the first to play the world's biggest gutbucket fiddle?"