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Donthebat
December 15th, 2012, 10:50 AM
Christmas Elves


You may remember Santa Claus did not turn up last Christmas. He is reported to have fled with Rudolph, Mrs Claus and a sleigh full of toys to the Spanish Costa del Crime. Where, if reports are correct, they sold the toys on ebay and are now living in luxury.
Is Santa Claus being charged with theft? You may well ask that question but the answer is no. No one could prove ownership of toys, sleigh, Rudolph, or even the sainted Mrs Claus.
You may be asking who, if anyone, will bring the kiddywinkies presents this year? The answer to that question may be more complicated, so let us move smartly to the frozen North and find out what is going on.
*
“Order brothers, order.” Shouted the aged elf who, you may remember, had just painted Santa’s sleigh prior to his absconding with the toys last Christmas.
There was a lull in their squabbling long enough for the aged elf to get their attention.
“You all know me brothers; my name is Zog. I have served you as shop steward these last twenty years.” There were jeers, catcalls and the blowing of raspberries (or it may have been farting) from the assembled workforce. Zog was not intimidated as it was normal elvish behaviour when being addressed by another elf.

Zog climbed on to an upturned box, dropped his trousers and mooned at the rowdy assembly… that got their attention.
“Listen Brothers,” he said pulling up his trousers then waving a document above his head. “I know you are still feeling betrayed at finding our great hero Legolas, who performed such heroic feats in Lord of the Rings, was not an elf at all but an actor from Canterbury—wearing plastic ears.”
There were angry shouts and a discontented growling from the assembled elves. Zog raised his hand and they fell silent.
“We must put this behind us” he shouted. “Remember we are Christmas Elves: not warrior Elves, or common-or-garden Elves who sit under toadstools all day eyeing up the fairies. We are proud artisans beloved by children the world over.” There were reflective murmurings from the crowd.


Zog continued “We are all aware that the old git who used to do the sleigh deliveries did a runner, taking the toys, his tarty wife and that slimy red-nosed ungulate with him. We may well say bloody good riddance, but no one has come forward to replace him and he’s had all his mail redirected to his villa in the Costa del Sol.”
“Mail—schmail, what does it matter to us?” shouted Solly, the works accountant.
“You may well ask that Solly. But it includes all the letters from the kiddywinkies placing their toy orders for Christmas. The old toe rag is sending them catalogues of cheap plastic toys imported from Chinese elves working in sweatshops. And there is worse news than that. He’s selling classified information, from our files, to anyone who wants to know where the naughty girls live.”
There was uproar: Banging of seats, whistling, shouting and the all-pervading farting-type noises peculiar to an assembly of artisan elves or a meeting of the House of Commons.
“Silence brothers and hear me out,” Zog shouted. “The only way to combat this menace from our mercenary ex-colleague is to resume the supply of free quality-built toys; delivered on Christmas Eve by a bloke with a beard and wearing a poncey red suit… I am willing to take on that role.” There were loud cheers.
“Oy-vey, where is the money coming from?” Solly lamented. Zog raised the document he had been clutching since the start of the meeting.
“I have here brothers, a grant from the lottery fund that will finance a new sleigh and the materials to manufacture toys for the foreseeable future. Tomorrow I shall visit Sleighs-R-Us and procure a suitable vehicle.”
It is not in an elf’s nature to express joy, and the first thought of most of them was to divvy up the grant and all disappear in to the nearest patch of toadstools. When told the grant would be given in instalments, and closely monitored, they grudgingly agreed to return to the workshops and start making toys again.

*

A week later the sleigh arrived. It was a large ex-army vehicle painted in a drab olive green. The Elves gathered around it voicing their disapproval—as only Elves can.
“Don’t worry brothers it’s the ideal vehicle,” Zog reassured them, caressing it lovingly and trying, surreptitiously, to cover the mileage on the odometer.
“The reindeer will never be able to pull that,” said Arnold, the Keeper of the Reindeer, as he kicked the runners and opening and closed a heavy door.
“Don’t have to: it has a V12 supercharged engine and with elvish magic I can make it fly like the wind.”
“But it has to be red and have reindeer pulling it. It’s traditional and the kiddies will never forgive you… furthermore the ground-air defences won’t recognize you and you’ll get a missile up your jaxie,” warned Arnold.
“I thought of that?” said Zog. “Remember I was the old git’s sleigh painter? It will be a simple matter to paint it red. As for the reindeer I’ve thought of that as well. I shall fix a long pole to the front of the sleigh and strap stuffed reindeer to it.”
“And where will we get stuffed reindeer?” said Arnold, suddenly wishing he hadn’t asked the question.
“I thought of that as well. When you get back to the pens could you send Dasher and Dancer; Prancer and Vixen, Comet and Cupid and Donner and Blitzen down to my office? There’s someone I would like them to meet.
*
It’s Boxing Day somewhere on the Costa-del-Crime. Mrs Claus is putting the last touches to a dinner of the previous day’s leftovers. Santa is pouring a glass of pre-prandial sangria, and Rudolph is curled up in the corner reading an out-of-date copy of the Times.
“Oh! I was meaning to tell you darling.” Mrs Claus said as she staggered in with a tray of cold turkey and a dish of Bubble and Squeak.
“You’re always forgetting to tell me things my love… is it important?” Santa replied, with an indulgent smile.
“It may be, come to think of it. Do you remember that horrid Elf called Zog who used to service the sleigh?”
She now had Santa’s attention. Rudolph put down the paper and pricked up his ears.
“You know the empty villa down the road… the expensive one?”
“Yes I know it,” said Santa, having a sudden premonition of disaster.
“Well, Mrs Zapata phoned to say an Elf named Zog moved in last night with a sleigh full of toys… Do you think he’s the same one?”

lowprofile300
March 20th, 2013, 11:38 PM
@Donthebat,
Very funny story and a great read:) I am surprised few have taken the time to check it out. Exellent attention to detail with solid discriptions. Cheers.

Donthebat
March 23rd, 2013, 11:07 AM
@Donthebat,
Very funny story and a great read:) I am surprised few have taken the time to check it out. Exellent attention to detail with solid discriptions. Cheers.

Many thanks lowprofile. Seems my style is not to the taste of many on here.

Kevin
March 23rd, 2013, 07:19 PM
I think the humour section is often overlooked. I see a hundred hits so maybe I'm wrong. I used to post here but haven't even looked in a while ( I believe I may have entered my 'stinky-face phase, you know...that face..like the oldman puppet...) Anyway


The piece is not bad.

I did see a little repitition of some phrasiology (eek, new word for me, sorry..) like 'you may well', 'you all'.

I wondered about the tense being used throughout. The 'story' starts off with a reporter's account of things and then in the final section, becomes a conversation where no reporting is possible. It also takes place in the future as compared to the previous stuff. I'm afraid my skill level is not sufficient to analize or explain this fully. How does one connect multiple 'story forms' in manner like this? Hmmm... anyway, thank you for posting. I'm a big fan of comedy and this does qualify, a sort of a ironic commentary on politics, greed, and human (elf) nature...:)

Rustgold
March 23rd, 2013, 11:04 PM
I think the humour section is often overlooked.

I must have been bored or wanting to do a lot of thumb twiddling to come into the humour section. Simple fact is most 'humour' in this section is just lame, and I'm one who doesn't normally visit.

On the piece, I like the kick in tail ending, but it could use some editing.

“You’re always forgetting to tell me things my love… is it important?” Santa replied, with an indulgent smile
For instance you could just get rid of the underlined bit.

whatever
April 9th, 2013, 07:44 PM
Not much to criticize about, maybe more info about with Santa in the first place?

Donthebat
April 16th, 2013, 09:10 AM
Many thanks for your comments, I shall take them on board and do some tidying up.
Shame humour has a low profile on here, but I shall try to post another story shortly.

lowprofile300
April 16th, 2013, 04:18 PM
Shame humour has a low profile on here, but I shall try to post another story shortly.

@Donthebat, no pun intended, I hope:)

Donthebat
April 16th, 2013, 07:03 PM
@Donthebat, no pun intended, I hope:)

Oops!

PiP
April 16th, 2013, 09:19 PM
Hi Don,

Loved the story. I thought the twist at the end, brilliant :)
The only thing I would mention is that every time the character who is speaking changes, should you begin a new paragraph? This would also make it easy to read.

I only discovered the humour section today! I usually write semi-humorous posts for my blog. So I really appreciate the challenge of this style :) I look forward to reading more...

PiP

Donthebat
April 16th, 2013, 09:40 PM
Hi Don,

Loved the story. I thought the twist at the end, brilliant :)
The only thing I would mention is that every time the character who is speaking changes, should you begin a new paragraph? This would also make it easy to read.

I only discovered the humour section today! I usually write semi-humorous posts for my blog. So I really appreciate the challenge of this style :) I look forward to reading more...

PiP

Hi piggletin,

The story was written in 'Word' and the forum programme made its own arrangements with the layout when I posted it. It was written with seperate paragraphs for the dialogue.

I use the name 'pigtin' on the fishing and classic car sites I use. Very similar to yours.

PiP
April 16th, 2013, 10:26 PM
Hi Don, I answer to most things including Piggles :) So are you a fellow pigaholic? I'm intrigued why pigtin?

I did hesitate when I made the comment about paragraphs because I posted a poem to the forum awhile back and the formatting took on a life of it's own. I eventually overcame the problem by using the "Go Advanced" button, rather than "Post Quick Reply". Have you tried this?

Now of course, this could change again next week - you know how cantankerous these computers can be. (No they are not female) :)

hmmm I wonder how the Elf and Father Crimbo are riding out the Austerity measures in Spain?

I look forward to your next story

Carole aka Piglet :)

Donthebat
April 17th, 2013, 09:31 AM
Hi Don, I answer to most things including Piggles :) So are you a fellow pigaholic? I'm intrigued why pigtin?

I did hesitate when I made the comment about paragraphs because I posted a poem to the forum awhile back and the formatting took on a life of it's own. I eventually overcame the problem by using the "Go Advanced" button, rather than "Post Quick Reply". Have you tried this?

Now of course, this could change again next week - you know how cantankerous these computers can be. (No they are not female) :)

hmmm I wonder how the Elf and Father Crimbo are riding out the Austerity measures in Spain?

I look forward to your next story

Carole aka Piglet :)

Hi Carole,

It's all a bit complicated. Some years ago I built a car, a special, with engine and gearbox from a Reliant three-wheeler and chassis and running gear from a 1937 Austin seven.
Reliants were built at Tamworth where the pigs of that name come from; subsequently the (Del Trotter type) three-wheel car is known as a Plastic Pig.

Plastic PIG and AusTIN, amagamated, made a suitable name for the vehicle, and handle for my writings in the Oldclassiccar forum.

The name I use on here 'Donthebat' I was given down at my local pub. I had just returned from a job in the Far-East and was regaling them with stories of eating snake, bat and crocodile in a Singapore market.

I'm just finishing another story about the Santa gang called 'The Great Easter Egg Scam.'

Don.

Belderan
April 17th, 2013, 03:27 PM
Humour must be the most difficult to write. Kudos to you for, what was to me anyway, a great attempt. Loved the twist at the end as I didn't see that coming which is a rarity indeed.

qwertyman
April 19th, 2013, 10:07 AM
Yes, funny. Some good lines.

I don’t know why farting is considered funny I always sigh when I come across it in a humorous piece, it suggests desperation which this piece doesn’t need. Apart from that, and far more importantly, the majority of the humour comes out of the story, it’s not bolted on.

However this is bolted on:

“I know you are still feeling betrayed at finding our great hero Legolas, who performed such heroic feats in Lord of the Rings, was not an elf at all but an actor from Canterbury—wearing plastic ears.”
There were angry shouts and a discontented growling from the assembled elves. Zog raised his hand and they fell silent.

It is amusing and worthy of its place, but to disguise its dodgy inclusion it needs a better tag than. “We must put this behind us”. Perhaps you could link it to the later fate of the reindeers by announcing an agency that ‘looks after’ these problems (Not Elf and Safety).


Here’s the other one that doesn’t quite work:

“And where will we get stuffed reindeer?” said Arnold, suddenly wishing he hadn’t asked the question.
“I thought of that as well. When you get back to the pens could you send Dasher and Dancer; Prancer and Vixen, Comet and Cupid and Donner and Blitzen down to my office? There’s someone I would like them to meet.”

I know you must have considered not naming every single reindeer and discarded it. However, it’s awfully clunky. I would go with ‘Dasher and Dancer and the rest of the herd/line-up/team.’ Followed by ‘Tell them not to pack a bag.’ Or link with the disposal of Legolas.


It really appealed to me; I hope you don’t find these suggestions intrusive.

Erm... a friend of mine, well not really a friend just someone I know, has asked me to ask you, where do the naughty girls live?