Stripper Elves Have Holiday Spirit, Right?

Alright, it's Christmas time.

Xmas.

...Consumerism mass.

Ass.

My friend was bored to tears at work and asked me to tell her a story.

Here is what she looks like holding a thick chocolate shake that is too large for her:

In any case, anyone who knows me understands that if I'm asked a question or a reasonable task, I will comply.

This often involves nudging me and reminding me though, as my memory is both jack and shit.

SO

I wrote a thing.

Oddly enough, I wrote a Christmas thing.

There are four key characters in this and you will see them as they are introduced. I'm leaving the illustrations black and white for now so that anyone can print them out or take them to color in. If you do a fun job of coloring them, send them my way at deddrie@gmail.com so I can see your interpretation!

*ahem*

Once upon a time, there was an elf named Squibble. 

Squibble had worked for Santa for many years. The hours were long and grueling. Only the three richest kids even got their handiwork these days. The rest was all being outsourced to China and India and that was not what Squibble signed up for!

So he went on strike. Unfortunately, he was the only one to go on strike, as no other elves had any issues with how things were done.

An elf from public relations ran a memo down to Squibble announcing his “forced retirement”...

This was odd, as Squibble was a young elf.

As he cleaned out his tiny elf desk and found his thimble mug and teeny tiny stapler, a girl elf, his replacement, stepped up.

Her name was Bumple, but everyone called her “Glitter” since her stripper days.

She looked at him with sadness in her eyes as he walked away. She sat down at her new desk.

Glitter noticed something shiny. It was a pencil sharpener, and a rather nice one. It had his name engraved on the side.

 

“Oh noes!” cried Glitter, “I must return this to Squibble!”

Well, by then Squibble had already hopped on the polar train to go back to his shitty elf apartment.

Glitter didn't know where Squibble lived.

She asked around.

No records were kept of ex Santa elves.

Hell, he'd be lucky to get a reference, and it wouldn't even be from Ol' Nick himself.

She decided to look for clues.

His trashcan contained a tea bag, three tissues and a used condom.

Jiggles thought Glitter was strange for going through the garbage, but she explained that the used condom was from her romp with Squibble in the back office.

Jiggles couldn't say where Squibble lived exactly, but she had heard him mention Downtown.

...Also, she was about the only one in the factory to give Squibble a “good review”...

So on Glitter went, sharpener and tea bag in hand. Downtown was filled with icky penguins. They wore rubber suits and asked her to go “diving” and to “get some fish” with them.

Before long, Glitter happened upon a specialty tea shop. “Tea Baggins” was owned by a chubby hobbit, Bob. The signs in the window showed bags like the one Glitter held.

Bob told her that only two elves ever bother to shop there. One sounded like Squibble and had left a matchbox from Honkers bar and strip joint.

Glitter snatched the matches and marched off to Honkers. The ladies there were rude and hated Glitter for her success as a stripper in the good part of town.

After much harassment, finally a college student gnome who was stripping just to pay her way through gnome-med school said, “I remember someone like who you describe. He asked for a lap dance and then started crying about his mother. He even brought me to meet her. Super awkward.”

The gnome remembered the address of the mother, drew it out on a napkin and handed it to Glitter.

“It's a big old house just that way. I think it's haunted!” She pointed and Glitter shot out the door.

“HOPE YOU AREN'T ALLERGIC TO CATS” the gnome yelled after her.

The house was huge and dusty as Glitter gingerly stepped inside. “Hello?” Glitter called out meekly to no answer.

“He-hello? ACK!” A thing that may have at one point been a cat ran through her legs.

Glitter passed the kitchen, noting how few knives were in the rack.

She passed a bedroom that looked disheveled and stained...

Then, the only room left...

The basement.

“Shit” said Glitter.

As she reached for the door, clutching the sharpener as though it may save her life...

A hand shot out and grabbed her by the arm. Glitter screamed!

The old elf looked at Glitter, then put on her comically large glasses to look harder.

“I don't want any Elfscout Cookies! They give me the runs! Go way!” said the old elf.

“No, no.” Glitter clutched her left breast as she tried to catch her breath.

“I'm looking for your son, Squibble.”

The old elf laughed and said, “Oh thank the lord! He found one that isn't a skank! Come on to the dining room Dear. We'll have some tea.”

Glitter was tired and questioned if she should get involved with this guy Squibble in any way.

Still, the tea was hot and the cats were well enough behaved.

Just as Glitter had begun to ignore the eighth embarrassing tale of Squibble's youth in favor of watching a cat lick its own anus for half an hour, there was a knock at the door.

“Hey Mom, listen. I know I just said I'd never move back here, but I just got fired today and-”

Squibble looked up to see Glitter clutching a tea cup, his sharpener on the table, a book of embarrassing photos out, one of the cats was in his mother's hair and another was obviously thinking about shitting on Glitter's feet.

“The fuck is happening?” asked Squibble.

“Oh Dear! This is Glitter from your office! You should marry her.” The old elf beamed.

Squibble said, “Mom, we don't even know each-”

“SHUT UP AND GIVE ME GRANDCHILDREN BEFORE I'M DEAD YOU LITTLE SHIT” said the old elf.

Glitter handed him the sharpener. They smiled. The three of them smoked a bowl and Glitter got Jiggles to come over and help them clean.

The old woman never got her grandchildren, but she was so senile that she didn't really know the difference anyway.

Eventually she passed away and Glitter, Jiggles and Squibble lived happily ever after in sin.

Also, Squibble wrote a book about aging cats and wound up with way too much money.

He thought about donating it, but too many years working for the man left him just wanting boats, bling, and elf pussy.

The end. 

Me vs. Winter

A word on Winter

First off, I'm so used to being sick during the cold Winter months that the moment it snows, I curl up in a thousand blankets in front of the computer or TV and start eating ridiculous foods or just utter crap or just so much chocolate that I shit the sick out.  

So, as I write this, you can go ahead and picture that.

I've never been great at retaining heat.  
It just does not want to happen with my body.

When I was a kid, I didn't do much playing in the snow.  

We were forced to go outside for recess and I was forced to wear snow pants, because... 
I was a child and therefore logically I would be playing in the snow. 

This is not what I did.  

Snow is cold and wet and all things that make me uncomfortable, so I avoided snow in much the same way that I avoid all things that make me uncomfortable when I have no reason to be near them.

...I avoid it like I would avoid a dirty hippy explaining the joys of eating things I'm allergic to.

Also, my Christian friends were hearing things like "If you're a good boy/girl, Santa will bring you gifts", which they interpreted as "my little Jew-friend does not receive gifts from Santa, which means she must be a bad person."  

Then, they decided to tell me this, in great detail.  

It was like a junior version of Jehovah's Witnesses.  
"Have you accepted Santa into your life yet?  No??  Then you will NOT be receiving joy or presents."

I went to my parents and asked them what the Hell this Christmas shit was all about and why it meant that my eight nights of Hannukah didn't count as getting presents.  

My parents responded with simply, "Oh!  It's the celebration of the birth of Jesus Christ!"  
And I said, "OH!...  What?" 

I went on to assume that Jesus was a fat man who broke into people's houses in the dead of night to plant trees in their living-rooms as some sort of practical joke against all of nature and all that is sacred within the safety of one's home.  

Then there was something about nailing socks to fireplaces.  

This cued a Nightmare Before Christmas moment of "does it still have a foot???"  

This is what I picture when I think of Santa:

He knows when you're asleep...


Somewhere along the line, it was explained to me that most of the traditions involved didn't really have anything to do with the religious aspects of Christmas at all.  

They were mostly pagan traditions and other religious things from completely different areas of the world, all brought together in the spirit of joy and giving and love... 
...and forcing people to practice Christianity. 

Right.

SO, eventually I let that slide and decided that most of the population had no idea what they are celebrating and that was fine because it makes them happy.  

I learned to ignore the "Jews can't make snowmen" and "Jews can't look at the lights"... but was eventually made angry once again when someone tried to "explain" Hannukah. 

(By the by, Hannukah is spelled a thousand different ways because it's HEBREW, so please don't tell me I'm spelling it incorrectly.  The moment it's spelled with English letters, it's fucking wrong.)  

I was told that it was the celebration of the miracle of the oil lasting for eight days. 

...

What?

This is complete bullshit.

It's the celebration of the Macabees kicking ass.  

It was like 300 only they actually won.  

It was bloody and violent and about freedom.  

The end.  

Honestly, what's up with trying to lie to our children?  
Either way, fine. 

The new story is more kid-friendly I 'spose.

I'm still kinda stuck on how Jesus coming back from the dead has much to do with giant Harvey/Frank-like rabbits laying chocolate eggs. 

Really, if you're going to steal holiday ideas, at least force them to make sense.  
Make up a story.  
This is all I ask. 

How about... In order to deal with all of the sins for which he had just died, his old form was shed to reveal that of a giant rabbit-man.  

This way, he could sneak out with ease and deliver joy and love in handy egg-shaped carrying cases!

I rant about this now, because come Spring time, I won't be so cold and filled with hate. 

Cold = hate.

This year, I actually had a pretty good Christmas.  

We went to my boyfriend's parent's house.  

I was allowed to help decorate the tree.  

EDIT: "Allowed" was a good term to use here.  It turned out that the family involved was weirdly antisemitic and enjoyed watching me decorate the tree ALONE while mocking me.  

Except for the whole "oh my god I'm going to drop this and it's going to shatter and I'm going to go to some kind of Jew-Hell for breaking this sacred Jesus-tree decoration" part, it was very exciting and a lot of fun for me.  

The music didn't even get to me.

For those who don't know, I have a thing against most Christmas music only because of Hallmark.  

I worked there for a few months.  

It was fun work, but they found out that I don't celebrate Christmas.  

This was terrible.  

As a result, I didn't really know what I was doing, yet I was chosen to work alone ALL CHRISTMAS.  

To make matters worse, I was not allowed to change the music.  

It was automatic and I had no means of turning it off, besides maybe smashing the damn thing to bits... which I thought about. 

This comic came from that:
Deddrie: Hellmark

In case the site is down, here is that comic: 

 
At one point, a creepy man put a twenty dollar bill into my pocket as a tip for wrapping a gift for his wife... who was standing right there.  

I wanted to cry.  

Not only was it somewhat illegal for me to accept it, (so I tried not to and failed) but I have never been so very upset over receiving $20 before.

Also, I may or may not be allergic to pine. 

I'm not sure.  

I get itchy and eye-drippy around them, but it may just be Hallmark flashbacks getting to me.

Happy holidays everyone!