If you are an Elf assigned to the Naps Happen household, you can’t help but assume you’ve got one sweet gig.
All the kids there do is nap, right?
Sure, they needed a quick snooze after trying desperately to decide a name for the Elf. The kids managed to squeeze out a few gems, such as “Elf” and “Gingerbread Elf” before going with “He Who Should Not Be Named” and crawling into a headstand for some slumber.
When He Who Should Not Be Named witnessed the dozing duo that first day, he figured he could do pretty much whatever he wanted. He nipped a bit of egg nog, watched some HGTV, and turned his back on the angelic boys for a nap of his own.
Pretty soon, the golden-haired cherubs were wide awake, tossing Legos like confetti, painting the walls with Nutella, and rearranging furniture while He Who Should Not Be named missed each opportunity for accuracy in his report to Santa. Elfy reinforcements had to be called in, spilling magic dust all over an already messy living room.
Looks like someone is at risk of getting his first pink slip, and it isn’t even December yet!
Some Elves quietly relax while in storage, catching up on rest for 11 months before the hectic 4 weeks between Thanksgiving and Christmas arrives. Sleeping, reading, rearranging his quarters in a green and red Rubbermaid bin…this is what Johnny should have been up to.
Not this guy. He’s a frisky one.
One may be tempted to cast judgement and say he was probably sewn naughty.
I tend to think that he was walking a righteous path up until his Naming Day. That was was this Nameless Elf was given the same moniker as a man who brought roadkill to his son’s Preschool pick-up, thinking the wee ones would enjoy the sight of flattened critter carcasses.
When someone’s named after the kind of bad-ass who travels with roadkill, you gotta expect him to experiment sexually and mingle with unsavory characters.
It’s like being bad was his destiny, and he’s just living up to the expectations. How can we possibly blame him for that?
Quite possibly a completely bullshit story in an attempt to cover up the fact that squirrels aren’t really seen around The North Pole, but why get into frivolous details? This dude’s got bigger problems than geography.
Is he a bastard child?
Not sure. But if the story below is true, then his mom’s pretty slutty. Which can be embarrassing, when your friends find out this sort of thing.
Maybe this blogger’s kids will respect an Elf-hat-donning squirrel.
But at least Mom is trying to get a message of holiday cheer across. Or a woodland creature sex-gone-wrong message across.
I can imagine the scene where Husband is rummaging through the freezer for his pint of Americone Dream, casting blame upon his innocent wife as she’s rounding up her overtired offspring before bed, covered in crumbs and sweat. That girl is too busy to be sneaky. Doesn’t her betrothed know this by now?