...part 6 (the end)

Slowly he realised he was back in bed with the covers over his head.  He pushed them back.  Early sunshine was in the room and the sound of penguins passing the window, singing their breakfast song, filled the air.  Nick sat up and swung his legs round for the umpteenth time in the last few hours.

Remember, remember...you must remember.  Remember what you are for... Something was happening in his head, in some dark recess, in a locked attic deep in his mind someone or something had awoken and was banging on the door to get out.

For a second he stared into space,  and then he was up and over  to the window.  He called to a penguin who was loitering a short distance away singing his annoying song with accompanying choreography.

“Oi, you!”  The penguin continued dancing about.  Nick collected some of the snow off his windowsill, formed a compacted,  icy snowball and took aim.  It detonated with such force that the penguin flew head first in the drifts.

“Gosh,” said Nick, in a moment of revelation, “I’ve wanted to do that for years.”   The penguin picked itself up and looked about.  “Oi, you, penguin!  What day is this?”

“Eh?”

“What day’s today?”

“Why, it’s Christmas Eve,” it squeaked.  The penguin was experiencing a strange emotion: Nick had for centuries worn a permanently light-hearted and jolly expression.  And could generally be expected to be able to identify Christmas Eve.  He was unsure how to respond to the amnesia and the alien look of...determination?

“It’s Christmas Eve!  I haven’t missed it!  Right, get round to the stables and tell Rudolph to fire up the Team.”

“But it’s not night-time!  What about night-time? You’ll be seen, people will want to talk to you!  What about the presents?”  The  squeaks were filled with alarm.

“Load up the presents now.  And we’re going this morning while it’s light.  And get me the P.R. Elf.  Change of Policy.  We’re going public.  It’s time to talk.”

“To who?”

“Everyone.”