Some elves bake cookies.
Other elves make shoes.
And then a rare few build toys in Santa’s workshop.
Somehow, people forget there’s a fourth job for elves: the military.
I mean, did you ever see Legolas baking cookies, making shoes, or building toys?
Hell no. That dude was killing orcs and other foul monsters with his bow and arrows… Twang! Twang! Twang!
I don’t think he can bake, and I’m sure he doesn’t make his own shoes, but if you asked Santa for “A dead orc with an arrow sticking out of it” I bet Legolas can fill that order.
Tag: fantasy
A New Day
Bob drove to the store, found a parking space, and carried a box to the Customer Service Desk.
“How can I help you?” said the clerk.
Bob opened the box, and he poured out a busted-up, no-good day onto the counter.
“That was yesterday,” he said. “It really, really sucked. I’d like to exchange it for a day that doesn’t suck.”
The clerk looked over the broken bits, took the receipt from Bob’s hand, and checked with a manager before offering an exchange for store credit.
Bob gladly signed the voucher, thanked the clerk, and walked to the Friday aisle.
Trap
The adventuring party needed a thief to clear traps, but all that was available was a beginner named Lucky Lightfingers.
He wasn’t very lucky, though, and the priest grumbled displeasure at Lucky’s incompetence as he healed up the others.
The dwarf and the barbarian were tired of hauling each other out of pits full of spikes, too.
So, they clubbed the thief dead, and the priest raised him as a zombie.
For the rest of the dungeon, they ordered Lucky to set off tripwires, pressure-plates, and traps on every treasure chest.
They gave his share to his next of kin.
Brother Theodore
Brother Theodore was very proud that knew the nine hundred and ninety-nine names of God.
“God has one thousand names,” said the Abbot. “Recite them now for me.”
Theodore tried, but he could not remember the thousandth name.
As punishment, he was strapped to a table, and for the next five days, as he was forced to the recite them once again, and the names of God were burned into his skin.
Until… he stopped.
“And the thousandth?” asked the Abbot.
Theodore tried, but he couldn’t remember.
The one he forgot was branded on to the tip of his tongue.
Merv
Unlike the rest of the Royals, The Duke of Mervin’s Gate was a down-to-earth kinda guy.
Some called him Duke, others called him Merv. He was cool with either.
His family wasn’t.
So, he bummed around in the kitchen, watching chefs prepare meals and feasts.
He asked if he could help, and after a few weeks of learning, he had his own toque and knives.
Pretty soon, all the meals were prepared by him. And they were delicious.
And laced with a slow-acting poison.
Oh, the tragedy.
Some called him King, others called him Merv. He was cool with either.
Finger Fairy
From her shelf, the doll watched the girl sleep night after night.
“If the Tooth Fairy leaves quarters under her pillow for teeth, what might I get for fingers or toes?” she pondered.
Climbing down from her shelf, she walked to the sewing table and reached for the scissors.
They slid off the table and fell, slicing off the doll’s head.
The girl blamed her little brother for the attack, and sewed the doll’s head back on.
Grateful, the doll never thought about cutting off the girl’s fingers and toes ever again.
Her little brother, though, that was another matter…
Ice Queen
She was the most beautiful woman in all the land, but The Ice Queen’s heart was no man’s to own.
The Sun Prince, captivated by her beauty, asked Merlin The Wizard for advice.
“Take this potion,” he said. “It will melt the ice from her heart.”
The Prince set out at dawn, and made the queen’s castle in a week.
Slipping the potion into her wine, he watched as the Queen’s face turned to shock, then agony.
Merlin arrived the next day, not expecting two corpses.
“Her heart wasn’t covered with ice,” said the Prince’s suicide note. “It WAS ice.”
Keep Sharp
Legend has it that the Grim Reaper sharpens his scythe by the light of the moon.
Bull.
First off, he’s got a whole set of scythes.
As for sharpening, he’s too busy. So he drops some of them off at my store every week and I handle that for him.
Sometimes, it’s a rebalanced handle. Ergonomic grips. Or reinforcing the blade mounts.
Nothing’s worse than having a blade come loose in mid-stroke.
He swings, he misses. That’s what you’d call “A brush with Death.”
With rotation and maintenance, it won’t happen again.
My service is a cut above the rest.
Soup
I never make my grandmother’s soup recipe for anyone anymore.
I used to make it all the time.
And every time I made it, people said they love it.
Really loved it.
But they carry their love too far.
When asked “If you love it so much, why don’t you marry it?” they often say “YES, I WILL!”
Every time, it’s the same thing:
Whirlwind romance, big wedding, crazy honeymoon, and then a nasty bitter divorce.
If there’s any bright side to all this, it’s that I’ve ended up with all the soup spoons, bowls, and stockpots I’ll ever need.
Isaac
The Council of Giants gathered at Stoneheart Castle for their monthly meeting.
The Chairman called on The Treasurer to check the cashbox.
“Seventy three gold coins,” said The Treasurer. “How much was that telescope again?”
“Eighty,” said Greybeard Boulderballs.
“Can’t we get a discount or put down a deposit?” said the Chairman. “We’re the Council of Giants, for Thor’s sake.”
“I asked,” said Greybeard. “Eighty’s already dealer’s price.”
“Maybe if we bought this Isaac Newton fellow softer-soled shoes?” offered Oakshield Mightyfists. “You know, for when he stands on our shoulders?”
Greybeard promised to check on pricing, and The Council adjourned.