Friday, December 16, 2005
A Heartwarming Holiday Tale
The Elf Who Really Liked Blowjobs

Several years ago, up at the North Pole, there lived an Elf named Monty, and let me tell you, he really liked blowjobs. Most Elves were content just making their toys and living sexless lives as Santa's indentured servants, but Monty didn't care about toys or the art of toy making. All Monty wanted was a glass of good bourbon, a medium-rare steak, and a fine nubile lass stepping up to the mic.

One fateful December day, as Christmas drew near and production lagged behind, Santa, reeking of eggnog and Mrs. Claus' love, stumbled into the Elves factory and demanded answers.

"Christmas is in ten days," the crazed brutal taskmaster bellowed. "You freakish little sub-gnomes had better get your tiny shit together or so help me god I'll sell you all to Michael Jackson."

"It's not our fault," one of the Elves said. I can't remember which one; they pretty much all look alike. "We're short-handed. Monty is in the janitor's closet being serviced by one of the townsfolk."

Santa was not happy. "What is Elf rule number one? Anybody?"

"Don't bother making toys for poor kids?"

"Correct. And what is rule number two? Anybody?"

"Uh, keep your dick out of the townsfolk?"

"Yes," Santa said as he walked toward Monty's love closet. "KEEP YOUR LITTLE PIGGLY WIGGLY OUT OF THE NON-FREAKS."

With that Santa opened the closet door. No one is quite sure what Santa Claus saw when he opened that door, but it proved to be a Pandora's box for his sanity. Only Santa knows, and he's not saying, having been in a vegetative state ever since. He lies motionless in a bed in the basement of North Pole General Hospital, fed intravenously to stay alive.

Theories abound as to what he saw. The most common being that right when Santa opened the door, Monty was giving Misty Claus, Santa's sixteen-year-old daughter, a porn-style Elf-spunk facial. Misty denies this, but always does so with a mischievous smile.

In the two years since the incident, Santa's apprentice Gary has been handling all of the St. Nick duties. He delivers the toys on Christmas Eve, of course, but he also teaches in the off-season at the Mall Santa Training College in Kissimee, Florida. By all accounts, he is a much more benevolent boss than Santa Claus, whom most of the Elves hope stays in his coma until the day Satan is prepared to cast his eternal soul into a lake of fire.

As for Monty, he was banished to live in a hollow tree on the outskirts of town, his insatiable lust for blowjobs satiated only by the occasional woodland nymph. He met his demise late last spring, breaking what should have been Elf rule number three: Never get a blowjob from the Abominable Snowman. He's a biter.


"stepping up to the mic."

that made me roffle. I'm stealing it and you probably won't get credit :P

The best part of this tale is that I couldn't stop thinking about all the times I've been to Santa's house in North Pole, Alaska. There actually is a North Pole General Hospital, might I add. To further entertain me, I kept thinking about everytime we beat those North Pole whorish cheerleaders at the state cheer competition. It pwn3d. I'll bet one of those broads was the one caught in the closet.

Blogger Ćœbermilf said...

I love Santa. I refuse to believe these lies -- LIES -- that are told about him.

He brought me Barbie's Dream House when I was 8.

I got the Barbie dreamhouse too! And the Barbie and the Rockers complete STAGE!

Blogger yournamehere said...

you'd best give me credit, young lady.
I think Misty Claus was "head" cheerleader for the North Pole Squad.

now, now. (Pats her on her head). It'll be okay.
Seriously, Santa might have brought you the Barbie's Dream House, but it's Gary's show now.

I got G.I. Joe with the kung-fu grip. I got all the Joes. Blonde Joe, Brown haired Joe, redhead Joe, black guy Joe, and their mobile headquarters. Those things are worth a million dollars these days. I think my mom sold them at a yard sale for fifty cents.

Blogger Claudia said...

First of all both of you are SPOILED, SPOILED DAMNIT!*cry inside* :)
I am so jealous of the Barbie dreamhouse, let alone the rockers' stage! All I got was a fake Jem doll and a tangerine. Can I come over and play with it sometime (You don't know how serious I am about this).

Second, Todd, you are a talented man, I appreciate how you connected two very humerous politically incorrect things without even blinking an eye: Elves/little people and Michael Jackson--you are my hero.

Blogger The DogGrrrrl said...

I chose Dog Girl but it was a close tie with Elf Sucker 2.1

Blogger Knitty Kitty said...

I've had too many martini's to read your entire post but I'm sure it was offensive and hilarious as usual.

I think I channeled you tonight.. Had to see a high school choral performance..

Blogger wmy said...

See, yep, I knew it...I just knew that Santa was really a bastard at heart...why else would he keep giving me socks year after year after year...I only have 2 feet fucker...enough is enough!

Blogger katarina said...

Ahhh, I love Christmas stories...
Makes me all warm inside.

I decorated shoe boxes with blow-up funiture bought at a yard sale for my Barbies. I wanted that dreamhouse so bad. My cousin had it, but never wanted to play with it when I was over.

Blogger Brookelina said...

I'm just relieved that all those people that said there is no Santa Claus were mistaken. Ha! There IS a Santa Claus!

My holiday faith has been restored.

Blogger The real me said...

Nice story to tell all our kids...

T'was the night before Christmas, and all through the house, ot a creature was stirring, except for all the little elves getting laid and blown by little elf groupies...

Blogger Rachel said...

Aww, this brings back such fond childhood memories of hearing this story while sitting around the fireplace at home.

You always make me feel so good...hehehe.

Love you!

Blogger Spirit Of Owl said...

I'm jealous of the Barbie's Dream House thing too, frankly.

But still, this is a special Christmas tale. It's a charming Yuletide eggnog blend of Dickens, Aesop, and... Todd. :)

Blogger JJ said...


Blogger Crystal said...

All those Christmas's I thought that those cordial cherries Santa brought were cream-filled. Ack.

Blogger Dan-E said...

i always suspected that santa was both real and a complete dickhead. thanks for proving my theory.

Blogger Kris said...

quit ignoring my pleas.

Blogger megan said...

good to see you're in the holiday spirit! (other than that, i am also speechless.. but i loved it.)

the dreamhouse pwn3d. My mom made me give it away when I stopped playing with Barbies though. Bitch.

Blogger Melliferous Pants said...

Blasphemy! Santa is supposed to bring me a new foot for Christmas!

Blogger FRITZ said...

I just thought I should show you what it REALLY means to be an Elf...this shit will knock your Elf socks off.

Blogger yournamehere said...

I'm your hero? The world needs more heroes; more profane, moronic heroes.

if you were Elf Sucker I'd try to convince you I'm Will Ferrell.

too drunk to read this post? For shame.

last Christmas I got a pair of pants and pussy. They were both too big.

your cousin was an evil strumpet.

in that case, my story was a failure.

Blogger yournamehere said...

kids need to hear the truth.

I'm glad to be of help.

ubie and shaken and their god-damn Barbie Dream Houses. The envy is enough to tear this blog apart!

I suppose I'll take that as a compliment.

no, it was Elfen magic.

I'm here to help.

Blogger yournamehere said...

I would never ignore your pleas, I don't think.

the holidays are a special time for blowjob tales.

my mom threw away my baseball cards.

don't worry. Gary is quite reliable.

I love religious fanatics.

Blogger Cincysundevil said...

Watch out for the biters always!!!

Blogger Monkey said...

Oh my merciful heavens! The truth is always hard to hear. Or hard of hearing. I can't remember. I've had too much champagne.

I want a Barbie Dream House! And the plane too. And the corvette...

Blogger EEK! said...

A truly moving tale.

Hey YNH, come over xmas eve if you're looking for something to do. We're having a cocktail party (loose translation: drink bourbon until we puke, dodge relatives).

Blogger Rachel said...

Damn, I want to go to eek's too. How the hell do I wrangle that invite?

And Todd honey, you know I love ya right? I'm so sorry I missed your call. I was exhausted from the trip and once I laid down in those flannel sheets I was done for.

Blogger WunEyedDog said...

I'm with Shannon, the "steping up to the mic" was classic.

Blogger yournamehere said...

not a fan of the biters.

drunken monkeys are funny.

I have no idea what family plans are, but I'll see if I can make it.

I cried myself to sleep, but that isn't that rare of an occurance.

I like that saying.

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