As the sun finally set on Christmas Eve, you sprung up from your sleeping quarters beneath the old farmhouse. Most days you wouldn't have such energy, but this was Christmas Eve - the day of your annual payment for all the hard work you had performed around the farm. Every year Flint and Bridgett, the farmer and his wife, would leave a bowl of porridge for you at the porch of the farmhouse as was the traditional gift for a nisse. You didn't normally require any form of payment for your work as the pleasure of seeing the old farmstead running at capacity was payment enough, but the porridge was your little reminder that even if you never spoke with Flint or his wife, they still remembered and appreciated you and your hard work. The fact that porridge was your favorite meal, of course, also helped.
You pulled your pointy red cap over your fluffy, white hair and stuffed your legs into a fresh pair of bright red overalls, then quickly dashed out of the crawlspace and into the night. Stopping only to enjoy a lungful of brisk, Winter air, you strode up to the front porch to claim your bowl of porridge.
The porridge was barren, entirely lacking butter.
You stood there for what felt like minutes, staring at the plain bowl of porridge. What did it mean? Were the humans testing you? Were they bargaining? Were your terms seriously too steep for them? You knew for a fact that they had butter to spare - you made sure of it - but here you were, entirely butterless. Maybe they decided they didn't need you anymore, and this was their way of saying they planned to stop offering porridge in the upcoming years? Maybe they were just trying to mess with you? None of the answers were pleasing to imagine.
A nasty pang of betrayal struck your heart as you decided the humans really did just want to upset you.
"You want to upset me, huh? After all I've done for you?"
You scarfed down the bland porridge and threw the bowl aside, preparing to get even for this grave insult.