"The jolly old fat guy”’s reign of terror ended last Friday when he was arrested at his home in the North Pole.

On January 10th, an anonymous phone call identified “the jolly old fat guy” (a.k.a. “Santa Claus”) as Chris Cringle, a resident of the North Pole. Satellite pictures confirmed the existence of an extensive building complex there. Navy SEALS infiltrated the installation on January 15th and apprehended Chris Cringle and his Crime Circle of Christmas Cronies.

Adam Hammitt, a SEAL who braved the mission, recounts the experience: “The elves were gettin’ real nippy and kept bitin’ our legs. The fat man put up quite a fight, too, but we got’em alright. Oh, we got’em good.”

Cringle was arrested and charged with multiple accounts of theft, breaking and entering, assault and battery, child molestation, and animal abuse. The FBI is also investigating links between Cringle’s Cronies and drug trafficking in Peru.

According to eyewitness accounts, Cringle forced his illegally obtained midget-slaves to wear humiliating outfits, consisting of a hat, pointy shoes, green tights, and a long, frilly green shirt. Jingle bells attached to the clothing allowed Cringle to keep tabs on their whereabouts. Cringle used the midget-slaves to run his organized crime network.

Authorities found seven tons of stolen merchandise in Cringle’s hideout. Much of the stolen merchandise traces back to Toys ‘R Us where it was probably shoplifted. Experts attribute 35% of all shoplifting this season to Cringle’s Crime Circle of Christmas Cronies.

I’m 6 feet tall...rounded to the nearest foot. Okay, technically, I’m 5'6". (Okay, more like 5'5.5", but that's besides the point.) Anyway, for a girl, my height is “average." I'm right in the middle of the pack. I'm ordinary. Generic. In other words, I'm bitter.

If the rest of my family were below 4 feet, I would not be nearly so bitter. In fact, I would be basking in my tallness, laughing at them gleefully as they struggle to reach objects on high shelves. Unfortunately, they laugh at me instead. If your younger siblings are taller than you, it doesn’t matter how tall you are--you’re forever the runt of the litter. And I, the first-born, am that runt.

At 17 years, I'm 5 feet 6 inches *cough* 5'5.5" *cough*, right? Well, my mother is 5’10”, and my father is a whopping 6 feet. My "little" sister, who is about a year and a half younger, is 5’8”, and my 13-year-old brother…let’s just say he’s “tall.” After a little math, it is obvious that I'm...errr...vertically challenged. Who did this to me, I do not know, but that person is going to pay!