A lonely night, on the day before Christmas Eve, old Mr Hopsworth sat enjoying his meal all alone in his mansion. Devouring chicken, cheese, potatoes, and herbs. All to satiate his hungry heart. Yet no matter how much he ate, he couldn’t fill the hollow in his heart. Leaving friends and family, old Mr Hopsworth was so very alone.

But then old Mr Hopsworth heard a noise. A whistle of sorts. A song of passion he hadn’t heard for a long time.

“Hello?” Old Mr Hopsworth asked.

Jingle clang bang.

A new noise echoed from his halls.

“Is anyone there? This is private property?!” The foolish old man howled, his mouth full of broth and meat.

From the corners of the door frame, a long lanky arm crept through. Its yellow fabric-like skin was covered in tiny bells and buttons.

“Good evening, my good sir.” A screeching voice spoke.

“Who is it?” Old Mr Hopsworth asked wiping the food from his fat mouth.

“Well, I am Mr Button, of course!” Mr Button laughed, stepping out fully into the room.

His long arms covered in rusty bells, and his body covered from head to toe in rows of buttons all colored like eyes.

“Mr Button?” The silly old man asked.

“Mr Button, and I heard you have been very greedy this year, Mr Hopsworth. So I wanted to show you the joy of sharing!” Mr Button smiled through his fabric skin.

The jolly Mr Button skipped and danced through the empty room. His long arms dragging and swinging along.

“Sharing? What have I to learn about sharing? I pay my workers their fair salary. Isn’t that enough sharing?” Old Mr Hopsworth asked.

Mr Button laughed his heartily laugh.

“Oh no, Mr Hopsworth. You have not learned how to share properly.” Mr Button said putting his long arms along Hopsworth's fat body.

“This much material could create such beautiful dolls and toys for the ones in need.” Mr Button said pinching the fat man’s sides.

“What in God's name are you saying?” Mr Hopsworth asked.

“Let go of me, you freakish creature!” He roared, pieces of food and sauce landing on Mr Button's soft skin.

The jolly Mr Button sighed.

“It seems you really have to learn how to share.”

Mr Button then began his work as the old Mr Hopsworth howled in pain as the skin where Mr Button's hands had been now began to twist and reform. Turning into cloth, string, and buttons.

“Now let’s see what we have here.” Mr Button spoke as he effortlessly buttoned up the buttons and opened Mr Hopsworth up.

Mr Buttons' long arms dug and dug deeper into the open space and pulled out heaps of buttons and string from inside of old Mr Hopsworth.

The old man slowly grows thinner by each liter of buttons that Mr Button pulls out.

Old Mr Hopsworth is screaming and cursing the puppet.

Now, old Mr Hopsworth was three times thinner than the size he once was. Barely fatter than the chicken he had eaten.

Mr Button smile grew bigger and bigger as he took a handful of buttons from the pile and walked up to the tiered man.

With a hum, he began to sow the buttons into a beautiful smile on Mr Hopsworth's face.

Now he couldn’t keep all that food to himself. Neither could he curse the poor maids he berated every day.

Then Mr Button plucked out his eyes and replaced them with even prettier buttons.

Now he couldn’t judge others by how they dressed, neither could he see the wealthy he stole from the poor.

Mr Button laughed as he admitted his work. Pressing his old eyeballs to small round buttons. That he sew unto his yellow fabric skin.

“Now, Mr Hopsworth, I hope you will share the wealth you once owed. Before you run out of breath,” the jolly Mr Button laughed.