"Son of a bitch!" Marcus said as he came into the "small" dining hall. Small, he supposed, was relative, because this thing looked like it could fit his whole apartment inside of it and still have room left over. He wondered how he could possibly decorate the hall in the time he had. The party was scheduled for later today, and he would need a magic wand or something to get it all done in time. Doubly so since the furniture, the tables, chairs, and couches, were still covered in cloth protectors, and a layer of dust covered everything.

He was just glad that he had been told he didn't need to do anything with the nine foot tree currently standing bare of decorations at the head of the room.

Marcus put his hands on his hips and frowned as he looked at the problem in front of him. He thought he had all the equipment he needed for the decoration in his truck outside. A hundred feet of garland. A half dozen wreaths and a dozen red bows. He began to walk the room, hard brown work boots clashing against the white marble flooring.

He was a burly guy just over six feet tall with close cropped hair and a neat goatee. He had tough, calloused workman's hands and a layer of unrefined workman muscle straining against his gray shirt and blue jeans. He normally worked in construction but come Christmas time had set up a nice side gig for himself to come in and decorate homes. He did it because he just liked the holidays so much. The first year he didn't even buy any extra lights, just using his own that he had from years past. He had done big jobs and quick jobs before, but never both in the same job.

Marcus walked the hall and made a note of where the outlets were, how many there were and how much load they could hold. He had gotten quite good in the years of figuring out the best way to light a house or a room just in his head. He also looked for where he could hang the lights and garland, and what he would have to use to tie them down with. Marcus didn't expect the hostess to want him to damage the walls in the room.

As he returned from his circumnavigation of the room, Marcus came to the fireplace that currently sat idle on the right wall. He took his time here since it, along with the tree, would serve as the centerpiece for the room's décor. And then he noticed a snow globe, small and strangely simple, on the mantle. He noticed in part because it, of all the objects in the room, including the mantle itself, was dust free. He decided to leave it where it was and incorporate it into his design.

He looked around the room and nodded. He thought he could pull this off. But the room would need at least one good work over by a cleaning service. Or a maid. Surely the hostess had the dosh to throw at a maid service on short notice.

Then Marcus heard the sound of chiming bells coming from behind him. He turned and saw the snow globe had come to life, it's little flakes flurrying around the bright golden star inside.

"Huh," Marcus grunted just as snow flurries began to fall around him. He looked up and around for the source, but even as he did the flurries turned into real snow fall. Impossible winds picked up and whipped the white flakes into a frenzy.

"The hell . . ." he asked as suddenly Marcus felt himself picked up. He reached out and shouted, but only could watch as his hands and them arms seemed to dissipate into snowflakes. He had a sense, impossible though it was, that he wasn't merely trapped in the storm, but he was inside it. Part of it. That his body only existed as part of the swirling mass of white. He spiraled around the snow globe, each pass taking him closer and closer to the golden star inside. And just before he went inside, his strange form careened away and back to the very spot he had been standing.

The snow subsided and Marcus came back to himself. His body reformed, except it was not as it had been. Marcus wasn't Marcus anymore. She was Marti, and she was somewhere short of five foot four and stood in black ballet flats. She wore pristine white tights and a soft black dress with frills and an apron. She had a cute face and blonde hair that fell down playfully to her shoulders.

"What ze 'ell!" She cried out, surprised at the ridiculous accent she suddenly spoke in. "I will not do zis!" She began to make her way across the small dining hall, to seek out the mademoiselle of the house. She could fix this.

But Marti stopped walking, her eyes wide as she looked at the room. There was dust everywhere. And cobwebs and all the furniture was out of place and the floor certainly needed a mopping. The children from the orphanage would be here later today. They needed the dining hall for their party. Woman or not, maid or not, could Marti really the room as it was?

"No. No, no, zis will not do." She said, putting her hands on her hips. "Ze party must 'appen."

 So Marti got to work.