A slightly blurred version since I know DeviantArt will have a strop about it 😁

Unblurred version here:

Mahmoud was having one of his prima donna moments. Michelle had put him pride of place as the angel of the Nativity since there was no other role he could take, but this year he was indignant at being upstaged by the papier-mâché model of baby Jesus.

"A man of my talents does not do supporting roles. I was an actor once, damnit! Now look at me!" Mahmoud sulked with emphatic waves of his plastic limbs. Since the loss of his face, his body language had become even more dramatic to compensate. "You will make me the star of the show, understand? You owe me this. It's due to your negligence that I cannot get other work."

The man knew how to twist the knife. Michelle cringed with guilt, knowing that it was exactly a year since one of the man's coworkers had slipped superglue inside his suit. The caustic chemical had melted his skin, sealing him into the suit and, while the surgeons pondered whether removing it would be fatal, his permanently angelic appearance had cost him several leading roles in local theatre productions.

So he wanted to be the 'star'? Michelle craned her neck up at the tree that rose three stories through the center of the store. Hmm. She'd need to call an outside contractor to install him up there, which always complicated things since anyone even they had to be kept in the dark about the true nature of the store's clockwork automatons. And it would need to be done safely. At such heights, she'd have to make it explicitly clear to the workmen that the 'angel' was to be mounted very firmly indeed.

They removed the tree's old star and installed the new one overnight when the store was empty. When Michelle arrived for the afternoon shift, she found a crowd of shoppers gathered around the tree, admiring the angel as it sang its praises to the heavens in a sweet, angelic voice. It was a Christmas miracle that she'd left his voice modulator turned on.