So the elves get cranky and snarky this time of year, because we’re well into the final countdown to the big day, being Christmas Eve of course. And it sounds like fun but after hundreds of years, it gets to be a drag, especially since kids today already have every freaking thing and what in the hell is Santa supposed to bring down a tiny chimney that will impress even the least jaded five-year old?
So they’re gossiping around the water cooler during break, and the newest rumor starts getting debated about, regarding how much more money Santa and Mrs. Claus have and what a tiny percentage of that vast wealth the elves get paid, even if they do get room and board.
“I hear” says one elf, “She has a Red Velvet Bedspread”.
And oops, there She is, casually walking down the hallway and just about to pass them unexpectedly, overhearing the mean-spirited-ness directed at her, who has never been anything but sweet and kind and good to them, personally picking out each and every Christmas present for each and every individual elf, putting thought and time into making the selection of something slightly out of the ordinary or expected, to make sure the goddamn elves understand just how valued they are, and now here they are stabbing her in the back because she sleeps in a nice bed.
And the bitch goes off:
“You bet your elf-ing asses I have a Red Velvet Bedspread” says she. “One hundred percent organic Egyptian cotton, which is almost impossible to find, dyed with organic red dyes using eco-friendly methods, which is also almost impossible to find, but you want to be nice to this poor tired planet, so if you have to pay a little more for that and you can, you should, so I do.”
“It was hand elf-ing quilted by a women’s cooperative in one of the third-world nations we don’t even visit because the last time we tried they were so poor and hungry they tried to Eat one of you damn Elves, but they need the help trying to become at least a second-world country, and if you have to pay a little more for that and you can, you should, so I do.
“There is hand-made fringe, woven of organically raised silkworm silk, from a silkworm farm in the middle of nowhere by some granola craftsman who has enough time on his hands to actually create something extraordinary like that, because nobody cares about silk being organic, and nobody cares about craftmanship, but I do, and if you have to pay a little more for that and you can, you should, so I do.”
“And you don’t even want to know about the hand-woven Italian linen sheets, or the hand-stuffed eider-down pillows, or the hand-woven and hand-embroidered blankets, because you can’t even imagine that level of extravagance and can’t get past the elf-ing bedspread that you’ve only heard about from the damn maid who is obviously spreading shit around because I warned her if she’s late for work one more time I’m going to have to fire her because we’ve already given her six warnings and it’s not like she has any freaking commute, we just live across the compound here in the North Pole and if she can’t be bothered to get her fat ass out of bed on time in the morning then she can just go back to working for minimum wage in Gift Wrap.”
“Because I’m Mrs. Claus and I have all the Best Toys, that’s why.”
And she continues her way down the hallway. Then she stops, looks over her shoulder, and adds, “Oh and by the way, a Thank You Card would be nice after you get your Christmas Gifts. What, were you born in a barn? Didn’t you parents teach you any manners? And Yes They Did Because I Know Your Damn Parents And They Raised You To Be A Better Elf Than You Turned Out To Be.”
I suspect this years Christmas Presents for the elves might just be a pre-paid Visa gift card for $10.00.