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.