For her sake, let’s hope that Luke talks the chubby fella in red into popping a new bottle into her stocking to make up for the thievery, for everyone knows that moms need serenity now way more than elves do during the holiday season.
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Amy’s adorable 7-year-old daughter was tickled pink when she lost a tooth!
Her loving parents cleaned it up and helped her tuck it under her pillow. That night she dreamed sweet dreams of a glittering Tooth Fairy plucking the enameled gift and replacing it with cash before flying off to whatever magical place they go to at night.
But things didn’t turn out as expected.
Elizabeth the Elf knew what was going down–I mean, it is her job, after all–and snuck into the little girl’s bedroom before the last of the fairy dust landed softly on the carpet. Luckily, her task was intercepted by Amy and evidence was taken at the scene:
Elizabeth not only stole the little girl’s Tooth Fairy money, she ALSO nabbed her favorite purple marker to write a note that simply stated, “I’ll take that.”
WHO DOES THIS?
A total bitch. That’s who does it.
Shame on you, Elizabeth. Shame. On. You.
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Mistletoe the Elf delighted her children, and left notes for them each day. She was even a little lenient on the “no touching the Elf” rule when her boys wanted to take Mistletoe on a short joy ride around the kitchen on one of their toy trucks.
The following day, Mistletoe’s note mentioned that he enjoyed his ride on the truck. Next thing you know, BOOM.
One of her sons takes Mistletoe on another joy ride, and it doesn’t end well at all.
Anne jumped right in, rigging a sling for Mistletoe’s now-amputated arm until the boys went to school. Then she fixed him as quickly as she could with hot glue and a prayer.
This time, Mistletoe’s note had a P.S. on the back of it, requesting the play time be slightly less dangerous.
But that wasn’t enough. Oh, no.
Mistletoe waited until the family was fast asleep, slipped into Anne’s very special cabinet full of delicate vintage items she had carefully curated from estate sales and cleaned up into near-perfect condition, and with his newly refurbished arm BUSTED. IT. UP. YO.
I guess it’s true what they say: revenge is a dish best served…broken.
nce upon a time there was a delightful town called Sleepy Hollow.
It was a bright, bustling place of laughter and light. The townsfolk enjoyed meeting to exchange pleasantries over tea, or arranging social engagements such as festive dances. It wasn’t uncommon to see gentlemen riding elegant horses with long manes adorned with bows and simple jewels, waving to neighbors and shopkeepers along the route.
Each Christmas season the street lamps would be decorated with boughs of holly, and a knock on your door would reveal rosy-cheeked carolers, whose voices could lift your spirits higher than the tallest birch tree in the forest.
Then Becky the Elf arrived.
Sure, she seemed perfectly fine, but there was something about her eyes that made the townsfolk leery.
Being the polite society that it was, no one openly accused Becky the Elf of anything, and she was welcomed to the dances, dinners, and social engagements just like everyone else.
Then, one night, Becky disappeared from the Sleepy Hollow Annual Winter Ball. She had been looking out the window as the men began arriving, and then she was gone.
Suddenly, a blood-curdling scream echoed through the night, raising goosebumps on the merry flesh of everyone in town, chilling them to the bone. The thumping of hooves soon followed, revealing a headless horseman to the townspeople who fled for their homes.
From that night on a curfew was put in place, for every evening as the moon rose so did the headless horseman. He rode the empty streets in search of the one thing he wanted back more than anything: HIS HEAD. There were no more dinners, no more dances, no more boughs of holly, for everyone feared the wrath of what now haunted the town of Sleepy Hollow.
Man, that Becky. I mean, really…cursing an entire town?
Rhonda and the ladies from The Purple Pinkie Salon were in a festive mood. It was time for their annual Christmas party!
They bid farewell to the salon’s Elf, Dickie Doo, hopped into the car, and headed out for a night of merriment.
Then things took a bit of a turn, to say the least.
Someone snuck a ride.
When the giggling gang got to the hotel, they thought it would be fine to just leave Dickie Doo in the room.
Then they changed their minds.
With a resigned sigh, Rhonda popped him in her purse, told him to behave, and went to the bar to toast the holidays with friends and co-workers.
Dickie Doo was quick to get in on the action.
Dickie Doo’s serving size was WAY bigger than it should have been, so the night quickly got out of control.
Case in point: within fifteen minutes of his first drink, Dickie Doo got stuck in the cleavage of Miss Full Figure Drag Queen USA, who suddenly had a fist full of singles.
One of Rhonda’s friends was able to pry Dickie Doo out and the ladies dragged him back to the hotel room. Enough is enough, Dickie!
They made him Pinky Swear to be on good behavior for the rest of the night, locked the Adult Access channels on the TV, and went back out without him.
It is unclear what happened after that, but there was a little security footage…
Rhonda was charged for six busted hotel security cameras on her floor, in the elevator and by the rear hotel exit, but Dickie Doo didn’t show back up until the following week, so she’s not sure where he went, what he did, or how he got back home.
And Dickie Doo sure as heck ain’t talkin’.
Next year? There will be a mandatory handbag and car search before Rhonda and the Purple Pinkie crew head out for their holiday celebration. You can bet your bottom (crumbled, sweaty) dollar on that.