Christmas elf climate

The truth is, elves are forest creatures, so keeping a bunch of them up at the North Pole is kind of a dick move on Santa’s part.
But with deforestation and the loss of habitat, elves really don’t have much else place to go these days.
And Santa does teach them a trade in toymaking and logistics, even if the pay is for shit and the benefits are nonexistent.
It’s not like Santa needs guards or fences to keep them in.
One step outside of the factory dormitory, and they freeze their asses off.
No wonder why they’re so jolly.

Naughty and nicer lists

Santa’s Nice List was growing.
His statisticians showed him the chart.
“What about the Naughty List?” he asked.
They ran the numbers… and it was growing much faster than the Nice List.
When Santa did the analytics, he found that when normalized for population growth, it was actually shrinking.
And people were moving from the Nice to Naughty at an increasing rate.
Santa needed to do something quickly.
“Poison the lumps of coal,” he ordered.
Santa went back to his office and looked at his Nice List.
His own name was gone.
“On second thought,” he said. “Cancel that order.”

Santa handles the mail

Santa’s elves read the mail, entered it into the system, and flagged anything unusual for the big guy’s attention.
Dying kids got their wishes sent to the Make A Wish Foundation.
Death threats went to the FBI, and the sender went on the Naughty List.
Appeals to get off of the Naughty List went to Legal.
Santa tried to develop an AI system to process all of the incoming correspondence.
But it never quite had the accuracy of his squadron of mailroom elves.
“It’s the personal touch, I think,” said Santa, and he went out for a round of golf.

Twenty-three and Santa

Santa doesn’t remember his parents at all.
Some say he was left abandoned on an ice floe and set adrift, ending up at the North Pole.
Others say he used to be an ancient Turkish saint.
Or some Norwegian hunter who was hit on the head too many times.
Santa ordered a DNA testing kit to find out.
Two weeks later, the results came back.
The elf in charge of his workshop read the report.
“It says you’re fat and happy,” said the elf. “Can we go back to work now?”
Santa always suspected that he was a Samoan.

WEEKLY CHALLENGE #710 – PICK TWO panel, acid, blaine, current, coma, stink, taste

Flop

RICHARD

Medic!

I was beginning to have grave doubts about the doctor assigned to grandfather’s care.

My suspicions were aroused when he plugged the stethoscope into grandad’s ears and shouted ‘Wake up’ into the other end; then he seemed to have no idea which way round to insert the thermometer.

It was when he said. “To wake a coma patient, we need to administer a strong electric current”, then grabbed the paddles and placed them against my grandfather’s head, that I panicked and wrestled him to the ground.

Whose idea was it to put the coma ward next to the psychiatric unit anyway?

TOM

Can You See the Real Me Doctor

My doctor worries way too much about my state of health. What’s a little blood in the urine? High triple digits on the most lab tests. HA. What I find of concern it the acid taste in my mouth after intermittent commas. Somewhere between citrus and c cell batteries. What’s that all about ………..

Sorry I blinked out again for a second. What day is this? Oh ya Thanksgiving. Yes I’m thankful for my outgoing health. Wait, that’s on going. At least it wasn’t a stroke or cardo heart infraction. Now that would be some major messed up action.

LIZZIE

The stage was set. The jury was ready, the music chosen.
He still felt the taste of her mouth.
He cast a furtive glance at her. She ignored him.
They danced. And they won.
He still felt her body pressed against his.
The applause died down as they waved to the audience.
And she hurried away.
He could still feel the shape of her hand in his.
The recollection of her smile was vague though, so vague.
She was now a body fallen into a deep slumber.
The stage was set. The jury was ready.
But there was no music.

SERENDIPIDY

My latest date turned out to be a complete jerk.

Too tight to pay for a restaurant meal, he insisted I should cook for him… and also, to see how I compared to his mother’s kitchen skills!

He also bragged constantly about his manliness, and how he wanted to taste the hottest chilli I could make.

So, I threw in a dozen Scotch Bonnets, and a handful of Ghost Chillies, then watched him suffer.

After just a few mouthfuls, he was more than ready for a helping of battery acid sorbet.

I always keep a tub handy, just in case.

TURA

Taste; current
———
“Show me the taste of enlightenment,” said the master.

A student stood, bowed, and began, “Thus have I heard—” The master immediately thwacked him with a stick. The student sat back down.

Another stood, bowed, and said, “Enlightenment is the current that flows through all being.”

The master gestured as if to fill his hand from this current. The student took the hint and sat down.

“Show me the taste of enlightenment!” the master repeated.

I stood, and drew from my robes a bottle of 40-year-old Laphroaig. I bowed and humbly presented it to the master.

The master was pleased.

NORVAL JOE

After a quick flight around the neighborhood, Billbert and Linoliumanda touched down behind a panel van two doors down from her house. He walked her to her door.

Linoliumanda’s father opened the door. He normal acid glare burned through Billbert. “What are you doing back so soon?”

Linoliumanda took Billbert’s hand and pulled him in. “There was a fire,” she said, sniffing the air. “Mmmm. What’s cooking?”

“Brussels sprout casserole,” her mother called from the kitchen.

Billbert wondered if the taste could be as bad as the stink.

Her father asked, “You’re telling me, you walked home from the dance?”

PLANET Z

Every year, the coaches or journalists panels rank the Texas A&M football team in the top 25 teams.
And every year, the Aggies beat small wimpy schools, but get beaten by the other ranked teams.
And they drop in the polls until they fall out of the top 25 teams.
The next year, they start off in the top 25 teams again.
And fall quickly again, year after year.
Pathetic.
Eventually, the pollsters figured out a solution to correct the error.
Anyone who ranked Texas A&M had their ballot shredded.
Much more humane than shredding the coaches and journalists themselves.

Car alarm

I drive a truck that’s seventeen years old.
I can’t customize the alarm sound on it because the alarm just honks the horn over and over again.
For a while, it was a hassle, trying to differentiate the truck’s alarm from all the other alarms in the parking lot.
Now, people have fancy whoops and bleeps and blaps and even apps that silently warn them on their phones.
Which I wholeheartedly approve of.
Because, while their cars are performing some kind of Kraftwork concert, my truck is the last vehicle left that honks its horn, and I know it’s mine.

Madness

Robin Williams once said that we are all given a little spark of madness, and we must do everything we can to keep that spark from going out.
After he killed himself, I knew what I must do.
I must preserve his spark of madness.
With a few phone calls, I determined that he was going to be cremated.
I took a flight to San Francisco and hired a taxi to the crematorium.
With not a moment to lose, I climbed the roof and stood at the chimney.
And I breathed in as much of his madness as I could.

Kroger Lot

The grocery store parking lots are crazy the week of Thanksgiving.
Last minute shoppers, desperate for stuffing or green beans or some kind of spice they forgot.
Rolls! Dinner rolls! You forgot dinner rolls!
Fights over the last can of cranberry sauce.
Then, on Thanksgiving, they’re closed.
When they reopen, they’re crazy again.
Because nobody wants leftovers.
Then, they’re even crazier, because Christmas tree delivery trucks fill part of the lot with trees.
And then people trying to tie the trees to their cars or trucks.
It’s a madhouse.
So, fuck it. I just order pizza until New Year’s Eve.

George the Active Listener

George was a pirate, but he wasn’t a very good pirate.
He was a good active listener, though.
Active listening is different from passive listening, because you’re not just saying “Uh huh” and nodding your head.
You’re repeating back key phrases and showing an interest in what they’re saying, prompting for more.
The other pirates would tell George their problems, and he’d listen, and keep the conversation moving forward.
Pretty soon, George learned a lot about his fellow shipmates and their lives.
He came to realize that they were all scallawags, brigands, and thieves.
You know, because they were pirates.

St. Amateur Night

It’s St. Patrick’s Day.
St. Patrick’s Day is Amateur Night for drunks. Stay away from the pubs.
Just like Valentine’s Day is Amateur Night for lovers.
Stay away from the restaurants. And flower shops.
Black Friday is Amateur Night for shoppers.
Stay away from the malls. Shop online, until the online stores crash, and you can’t go there anymore.
Christmas? New Year’s Halloween?
They’re all Amateur Night.
Every night is Amateur Night here.
Except one.
There’s only one night for the professionals: April Twelfth.
Nothing happens then.
Nothing that you know of, that is.
Nothing that we let you know.