tell me what the deal is or pour some salt on me

I’m going through my books in an attempt to cut down on my sheer amount of stuff. For whatever I’m reading I usually end up using whatever is at hand for a bookmark. Paint swatches, fliers, pages from notepads, a coupon for free panties from victoria’s secret. Every once in a while I find some wacky shit I made up instead of reading. Here’s a recent one I found:

Santa Claus was a jingle jolly jerk. Or at least that’s what I thought during my short stint at the Toy Factory. The man already ruled over Tinyee Towne (named after Professor Tinyee you racist) but his grip over the T.F. was much worse, so whenever an irritant popped up it was lanced like a boil. Everyone wanted to work at the T.F. and I somehow had stumbled into that job. But eventually I was that boil. Luckily T.T. has plenty of opportunities for work, and me, I’m the kind of elf that’s not afraid to get dirty. I found myself in the business of finding stuff out, where spouses went instead of sprinkle club, investigating claims to determine if employees really do have Tinsel Elbow and aren’t just living it up, maybe I give people who deserve it a Tinsel Elbow. Maybe. The shadows cast by  string lights are still as dark those cast by the neon signs of the Giftee cities. Let me just say that the light hurts my eyes.

I was at the Frosted Cupcake watching Misty L’toe shake her cupcakes when two cold, hairy hands clamped over my shoulders. A pair of yetis loomed over me like twin north poles. The one on the right said to me in that oddly high pitched voice of theirs, “Don’t you know too many sweets is bad for you? Let’s go, shortbread.” “I’m actually average height for an elf.” The cold glare dropped by a few degrees, but I decided to go peacefully. Once outside the quiet lasted only a second before it was perforated by some glass breaking and in the distance a siren blared. One of the yetis held on to me while another opened the door of a waiting limo. I was led inside, not tossed like a xmas tree in Feburary, which surprised me, but that nothing compared to when I saw who was sitting in front of me. Mrs. Claus was wearing a low cut dress, red as freshly spilled blood, and lined with white that made fallen snow seem dingy. Her long blonde hair veiled half her face, which made the one visible iceberg blue eye even more piercing. She was holding a drink with a candy cane stirrer, it was some kind of whiskey, on the rocks.”Tony Berry. I’d say your reputation precedes you, but slugs like you leave slime trails,” she said. “Yeah? Well, either tell me what the deal is or pour some salt on me, toots.” She sipped the drink, her eye as unblinking as the northern star. “Santa is dead.”

Ha! That was in a book about Prohibition which was rather dry, which is weird as the book itself shows signs of being water damaged.  Barump tsh! The only thing I changed was the spelling, but otherwise that’s all there is.  I don’t like how Tony is kinda of a passive character despite saying he’s “the kind of elf that’s not afraid to get dirty.” I do like the dialogue. Maybe I’ll consume an almost panic attack inducing level of caffeine on my next day off and see where it goes.

It’s a real relief that they found all those potentially earth like exo planets. Now I can punch pandas without feeling guilty, there might be even better species out there.

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