Festive Force

′Change balls - they are defective.′ This anecdote is firmly embedded in my head.
You burrow into something warm and plush and decide to stay and live there. Plush walls, plush people, plush happiness. Neither go out, nor believe, nor remember. Watch plush demons take your life apart and dig deeper into plush.
And suddenly there was a knock on the balcony glass. An insistent knock. You crawl out, and outside the window, freshly fallen snow sparkles, whirls in front of your nose, flirts. Something breathless and funny climbs over the railing, jingling balls on the branchy horns.
- I′m Force! Wow, you climbed high!
He takes out a tangerine, removes Christmas balls from the horns, puts them out and orders:
- rejoice!
- ...
- rejoice !!! - and blows horns
- HAPPY !!! - and Force mercilessly strokes your finger with teeth and claws
It′s annoying, but he brought in ′not defective balls.′