Cecil marched the three of us out of the remains of The Elf’s Lament and to the front of an architecturally impressive structure that had probably served as the main draw of the park. It was called Santa’s Workshop, and the sign out front promised a joyous ride through the wonders of Santa’s toy-making empire. It was a slow-moving river ride, and even though the park had been abandoned for thirty years, water flowed freely down the path and a large boat with three rows of benches awaited our arrival at the dock.
A smaller Mortician with a severe twitch in her eye stood next to the boat, glaring at us with serious animosity. Cecil, ever the host, guided us through the winding rope queue to the boat, whereupon Twitchy picked us up and plopped us down in our seats. Cecil sat in the front row with me, while Gary and Ronnie each had a Mortician on either side of them in the second and third rows.