Santa's Eyes, Their Watching You Part II : Elfy's Revenge

As the holidays season progressed further into the month of December I began to notice some things that dismayed my already wavering Santalogical beliefs. First I noticed the frequent trips to the mall made by parents when the rest of the year the mall was visited seldom if at all. Also I observed the way my behavior was being controlled by a series of statements like, "Santa wouldn't like that" or "I'll have to call Santa' (and in fact this call had been made once upon a time...or was it?). But I still had my faith. It seemed highly unlikely to me that all the parents in the world could be clever enough to cover up something as big as the Heavy Ho'ers actual existence...I mean songs praised his great deeds & TV enhanced his status as a major player in the world of toys. Could anyone force the media to cover and in fact perpetuate such a fantastically concocted story? I didn't think it was possible. I was torn but still leaning towards the belief that Santa was for real...and as Christmas approached I was sure that it would be better to beleive in him and have him not be real rather than doubt his existence and find out he was in fact not a fake...I was sure that Santa would not like a doubting Thomas or bring him a stereo cassette recorder.

As the week of Christmas touched down, I realized that something had happened. My arms had grown a little longer as did my torso and legs. This allowed me to reach the previously unreachable items all over my house...including Elfy in all of his previously untouched spying spots. I thought to myself that this could only benefit me as I now could bring Elfy down to my own level. I could play with him, tell him jokes (only the clean ones), and occasionally offer him some food to which he usually declined. After a day or so it occured to me that, Elfy was probably cold at night so I waited until my parents went to sleep and I snuck out of my bedroom, grabbed the little elf and brought him to bed. In the morning I would get up before my parents a tradition that I held until the age of 16 , and I would return Elfy to his previous post as Santa's little spy . He never thanked me but I was sure that Elfy appreciated it and that he'd pass this info on to Mr. Kringle as an endorsement of my generosity.

There was another inhabitant of my house, a semi-domesticated dog named Brownie...He was a pointer, a hunting dog who never seemed to grow out of the puppy stage. He caused general havok due to the fact that, as a dog, Brownie wanted to be out in the woods hunting and getting into mischief. Just an aside but I grew up on a street named Brooklake Road. This would make my porn name Brownie Brooklake which is not my choice but what can you do...Anyway, Brownie liked to eat things...not dog food so much but mainly things. He liked socks a lot, tissues, toilet paper (used or unused, in the toilet/waste basket or off the roll. It didn't seem to matter to him), and generally anything at ground or dog level if you will. Well, at this point I bet you know where I'm going so I'll just say it : Brownie ate Elfy while I lay asleep in bed one night. That morning I awoke and the first thing I noticed was that the little secret agent was missing. Paniced I looked to the ground and I saw it. Elfy's guts were strewn all over the floor. White fluff, that must have alluded Brownie's sight somehow, were all that remained of Claus's confidante. This was my A Christmas Story moment. I exclaimed, "OH FUDGE" but I didn't really say fudge at all. I can't remember ever saying it before this moment so it was a historic event for me as it has become one of my favorite words, a truly versatile word that can be used in so many different ways: noun, verb, adjective, adverb, participle, etc, etc...but that is a story for another day. Rising from my bed in shock I knew or I thought I knew that I was dead. I picked up all the pieces of fluff, thought about strangling the dog, started crying, and quickly devised a plan for the cover up of the Elfy situation as I knew I had little time.

I raced to the spot where Elfy had been the day before and I placed all the stuffing in a line directly leading to Brownie's little doggie bed. I grabbed the dog and led him outside so he wouldn't eat any of the stuffing that would now become evidence against Brownie (don't feel bad for the dog as there were many crimes that he committed that he was never caught for...). I needed to clear myself of any involvement in the crime so I manufactured a scene that would place some of the blame on the hunter and some of it on my parents for the way he was placed precariously on a window curtain bracket in our living room. I proceeded to the TV room turned on the TV and waited for my parents to wake...My plan seemed fool proof but there was something I didn't know. My mother and father were very aware that I was taking Elfy to bed at night. They thought it was adorable or some grossly cute phrase that they would have used to make me hate my current condition as the youngest of three boys ( no little boy wants to be cute, and neither do grown men...they want to be thought of as screwfaced drifters, dangerous and mysterious). Somehow, they knew exactly what had happened, how I had manufactured the crime scene and most of all why...They didn't care as they could tell by the look in my eyes, my overexcited tone, my calls for leniency, and my final request for a change of venue that I was punishing myself. Anyway, they promised not to tell Santa but it worried me that Elfy might have gotten off a final dispatch to Santa before his canine attacker sealed the deal.

On Christmas my worst fears were confirmed as my elder and most unbeleiving anti-Santite brother unwrapped his brand new radio/cassette player boom box upright that would take three homies just to get off the ground. It was just the one that I had asked for and just the present that I would most have had anyone else in the world get...I watched as my brother looked up at me and smiled, perhaps the most evil smile I have ever seen...just for me. But I cannot complain and I took it in stride realizing that Elfy (God rest his soul) had his revenge upon me. This is why I still to this day beleive, that somewhere hidden in his secret invisible castle beyond the Norht Pole, Santa sits upon a throne surrounded by toys and reads his dispatches from the Elfen league of spys(or CLAWS if you will)...and he decides just who it is who has been naughty and nice...

Merry Christmas to Everyone and Their Families

God Bless and Keep you During this most Holy of Seasons