THE REAL FATHER CHRISTMAS AND HIS ELVES
Present Jack
The first delivery was Jack. He was delivered to the cafe owner’s bedroom by Elf Starshine. The Elf took him out of his sack, removed the blindfold and gag, and rearranged the gift tag. Elf Starshine waited until the sound of sleigh bells signalled the departure of the sleigh. Actually, sleigh bells were what any attentive humans would have heard. Elf Starshine heard “La Cucaracha” on the van’s horn. Elf Bindweeed was obviously driving. “Right boy, Get on with it and get it right.”
Jack looked at Elf Starshine and noticed once more the festive bovver boots. He didn’t particularly want to meet them any more intimately. “Hmm, Hmm,” he coughed, quite gently, trying to wake Elizabeth and her husband.
“Louder, boy.” Elf Starshine’s green eyes glared through his balaclava.
“Hmm, Hmm.” Once he’d left the boy to panic for a few attempts, Elf Starshine took pity. He took the customary sleeping spell off the couple. Jack could have crawled down the nearest crack in the floor-boards. There he was, dressed like Tarzan, kneeling hog-tied on his neighbours’ floor. He went through his apology routine. He offered to collect the “dirties” every weekend and every Friday in August of next year. That was always a bind for Elizabeth’s staff. She was surprised, to say the least, to see a loincloth-clad boy kneeling there and apologising. She thought that a smart white shirt and black trousers would be more appropriate for work. She thanked the cute little Elf for delivering her present and went back to sleep. The state in which Elizabeth saw Elf Starshine really hadn’t dawned on Jack. All he could see was the bovver-booted thug. Elizabeth and her husband lay down their heads again and went back to sleep.
Elf Starshine gagged and blindfolded the nearly naked boy who was by now shaking with cold. When he was in the sack once more, the chill disappeared. It did, though, seem to take forever until the sleigh returned. Elf Starshine was the last to load his sack into the sleigh for the return journey.
Other Deliveries
Elves Eyebright and Dewfall reported that they had uneventful nights. Their two presents had apologised to a couple of drivers each. They also promised to wash people’s cars for free in the supermarket car park every weekend of next August. None of their recipients, of course, saw the Elves in their true form. As far as they were concerned, the Elf was just as they’d expect. They saw a little guy with a jerkin, pointy shoes, pointy ears and a pointy hat.
Everything seemed to have gone smoothly. Elf Bindweed had loaded the pale, skinny burglar into the Reliant Robin and taken him to all four victims in turn. He made various offers of restitution whilst kneeling wearing just his festively decorated jockstrap. He was going to have to do domestic work, maintenance and gardening for each of his victims. Only five days each if he could return what he had stolen but ten days if he couldn’t. That would make sure he was busy throughout the summer holiday. Elf Bindweed then gagged and blindfolded the youth again but with gorilla tape this time. There was no need to bother with the seasonal Sellotape now. The Robin Reliant then headed off for HQ(NP) again. Elf Bindweed knew he could make it back before the sleigh. He could then get on with warming the mince pies and mulling the cider. The Elves liked to let their hair down after a busy night’s work.
Elf Cobweb had had fun too. He had delivered the skinhead yobbo to Mrs. Robinson’s house and forced him to kneel. Once there he had to offer to do all the old dear’s shopping every day of the next summer break. Even worse: he also had to take her appalling toy poodle for a walk twice a day. As if that wasn’t embarrassing enough for a “tough” teenager, it was pink! He certainly wasn’t getting much of a summer holiday next year. Elf Cobweb more or less mummified the boy’s head with gorilla tape. He then returned him to the sack and waited for the return of the sleigh. While waiting, the Elf explained to Mrs. Robertson what the boy had to do. First he would have to strip and put on only the pyjama trousers that he was wearing again. He’d then have to fasten the stiff ribbon and the gift tag round his neck and report for duty. The yobbo was getting less and less happy with each passing sentence.
“Don’t worry, Thicko.” said Elf Cobweb giving his charge an encouraging boot up the bum. “As long as you dress properly, only Mrs. Robinson and you will see the pj’s. Everyone else will think you’re dressed properly. The Boss will explain later. You’d just better hope you don’t grow too much before next August. Oh, and if you manage to “lose” them, you’ll need to go to work naked.”
A whimper escaped the boy’s gag. Old Father Christmas could obviously use his magic to facilitate the illusion but more of that later.
On Our Sleigh Home
Before too long, the sleigh arrived and Elf Cobweb loaded his sack for the return journey. At least this time Elf Bindweed wasn’t at the wheel. As they flew home, some passengers were obviously happier than others. The seasonal songs started with “Jingle Bells, Batman smells . . .” Once that had paled there was: “We three Kings of orient are, one in a taxi, one in a car, . . .” After that came that eternal favourite, “Stop the Cavalry”. “Elves will be Elves.” thought the Old Boy as they passed round the elderberry wine. But he did hope that Elf Yewtree would put his foot down a bit.
The Elves passed the journey happily enough singing and drinking whilst seated on the sacks. Every so often, when one of the contents wriggled, he would feel the back of a DM. That hint, accompanied by an encouraging remark, was usually quickly taken. The journey passed in a trice for the Elves; after all, what’s a few hours to an Elf? It didn’t pass quite so quickly for the unfortunate presents. They were glad to feel the white van landing once more and to feel themselves being unloaded. As if they hadn’t already been tortured enough, by now the four-ale choir was in full cry.
Final Assembly
“Ho ho (Ho ho), Ho ho (ho ho), Ho ho (Ho ho), Ho ho (ho ho),
And jingle, jingle, jing-a-jing-jing, and merry may we be,
And jingle, jingle comes this way, he comes with a Christmas tree
A Christmas tree, a Christmas tree, a Christmas tree, a Chriiiiiiiistmas tree!”
The presents were unloaded and carried to Old Father Christmas’s throne room. There was time for the full horror of all eight verses and choruses before the Elves started anew. Fortunately they only had time for three verses of “While Shepherds Watched . . .” Unfortunately it was that bloody awful “Sweet Chiming Christmas Bells” version. The sacks were deposited on the floor and the contents decanted. By that stage, the presents would have preferred to be listening to Justin Bieber.
By that stage even Father Christmas had taken a little sloe gin. He was sitting comfortably having slung the annoying holly wreath into a corner. “Ho, ho, ho. And have we all had a jolly time?” The kneeling presents didn’t know whether they were supposed to answer or not. The gags took the decision out of their bound hands. “Well, my fine Elves, I think Elf Yewtree and I can take care of things from here. Off you go and enjoy yourselves. And Elf Bindweed, do try to keep out of Fairy Snowflake’s knickers this year. We need her back in the grotto next year. You know, I must have delivered zillions of presents over the centuries. I can still never think what to give a three-month-old.”
“It’s alright, Boss, he’s already useless: too much dandelion wine while he was doing the mince pies.”
“Thank you, Elf Cobweb but please don’t call me “Boss”.
“OK Boss, sorry!”
The Elves disappeared to continue their partying. Father Christmas knew he had a wonderful workforce but some of them were so young. Looking at them as they made their merry way, he could see several that weren’t even 300 years old. Nevertheless, he looked on with pride. “Ho, ho, ho,” he confided to his oldest friend, “They’re good boys.”
“Yes, Old Friend,” agreed Elf Yewtree, “But we’d better get back to work.”
“Ho, ho, ho. You’re right. Let’s get their eyes free.”
Once the tape had been removed, each present heard Father Christmas address him personally. The magic had cut in again. Each boy saw a video of what had happened to him and received an explanation. This is what it boiled down to. You’ve lost your summer holiday. Dress as you are. Don’t forget your gift tags. Only your victims and you will be able to see what you really look like. Everyone else will see the uniform you can see here. (All except Jack, who saw a smart black and white outfit, saw the same uniform. They saw themselves in blue cargo shorts and yellow t-shirts. On each t-shirt “snow-capped” red writing announced, “Santa’s Little Helper.”) Failure to dress as you are and you will have to work naked. Again most people will not be able to see you like that, but you will and your victims will. If you wear anything different, everyone else will see you naked. Magic is a wonderful thing.
“Now are there any questions? No? Good.”
Old Father Christmas and Elf Yewtree made their unsteady way down the corridor. They didn’t think they’d join the youngsters’ party. “They’re such good kids. But some of those fairies do have very obliging natures.”
“Yes Boss.”
“Please don’t call me Boss.”
“Oops sorry, Santa.”
“Or Santa, pleeease. They’ll think I’m an American.” Elf Yewtree grinned; he knew how to wind-up his oldest friend.
“You know, all this ‘Ho, ho-bloody-ho’ doesn’t half knacker your voice.” So the two old friends continued uncertainly to their chambers. Each by now carried a no longer full bottle of sloe gin. They seemed to have forgotten the frightened boys who were still bound and gagged. Surely they weren’t going to leave them kneeling there and uncertain about their immediate fates?
On Christmas Day In the Morning
Christmas morning dawned. The skinhead youth awoke and sat up with a start. That must have been quite some dream. Sweat was rolling down his bare chest and back and channelling between the cheeks of his arse. He swung his pyjama-clad legs over the side of the bed and slowly regained his composure. Then he looked down and saw the thick ribbon and the gift tag. It said: A Present From Father Christmas.
The burglar also woke with a start. He looked over to where his little brother was still asleep. Then something made him look underneath his duvet. Oh, shit! How was he going to get out of bed without risking his brother seeing that jockstrap? He decided to wait it out, pretending to be asleep. He hoped that the excitement of Christmas morning would get to his brother soon. He didn’t have to wait long until his brother leapt out of bed with a whoop. His brother couldn’t work out why he didn’t immediately spring out of bed too. He soon gave up bouncing on his big brother and went to collect his presents. The burglar still clung desperately onto his duvet and waited ‘til he thought it was safe.
Jack thought, “Funny dream. Never mind - loot time!” He then sprang out of bed shaking his head to clear it. He trampled over the pile of clothes on the floor without noticing how tidily they had been piled. His hand was on the bedroom door handle before he looked down and noticed what he was wearing. That was a narrow escape. He had no idea how he would have explained the loin-cloth to his parents or to his big sister. He retreated to think things out and noticed the gift tag in the wreckage of his pile of clothing.
The other two boys awoke and found their gift tags. They reminded them of things to come. They dressed very carefully. Now all they had to do was hope that their families didn’t notice the rope-burns.
Christmas would never, ever be the same again.
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THE END - - - - FOR NOW!