Confessions of a Disgruntled Elf on the Shelf

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Dear Santa,

I don’t mean to complain, but these people are crazy. I’ve been with this family since 2007, and while they seem relatively nice and normal to their friends on the outside, I see them as they really are. I see the everyday chaos that ensues, and frankly, I’m not sure if this entire family doesn’t deserve to be on the “naughty list” this year. To illustrate my point, I will provide you with a few examples.

1. My Name Is Fuzzlebub. Yep, you read it correctly. Fuzzlebub. Now, in the book that I came with, the rules clearly state that the kids can name me whatever they want, and they chose Fuzzlebub. I have been teased, beaten up on the elf playground, and most importantly, when I filed for a social security card at the North Pole office, the elf behind the counter…laughed. “Are you serious? That’s what your kids named you?” Fits of laughter. Other elves called over to confirm that yes, Fuzzlebub is my name. Incidentally, those elves were Max and Elsa. Elsa is the new kid in town, of course. She mentioned that Fuzzlebub sounded like at least one of my parents graduated from Hogwarts with Harry Potter. Thanks, Elsa.

2. I Never Get to Do Anything. Yep, Santa, we elves can read the internet, and the mom of my family is entirely without imagination when it comes to me. I see pictures of other elves on Facebook. They are making snow angels in flour on the stove. They are riding joyously with Barbie in a Barbie car. They are playing video games, baking cookies, and some of those lucky ducks even get to make mischief around the house. I mean, one of my buddies got blamed for switching a couple of kids’ entire closets in the middle of the night: all of Joe’s clothes went in Sally’s room, and Sally’s pretty pink wardrobe went to her brother. Hilarious, right? I was actually watching my family’s mom see this on Facebook and go, “What is the matter with these people? Someone, obviously the mom, has to clean that up afterwards!” She is absolutely no fun.

3. That Tate Kid Scares Me. Tate is almost four, and he has his eye on me. I can just feel it. Today I observed him removing ornaments from the tree and floating them in the bathroom sink. Santa, these were Hallmark ornaments. Not cheap, certainly not toys. And well, let’s just say that his mom uttered a few naughty words under her breath when she caught him and thought I couldn’t hear her. Just today, I watched Tate dismantle wheels from a toy train, tie a dinosaur to a pumpkin his mom forgot to put away, and create a whole train versus dinosaur scenario. It will haunt my dreams tonight. Santa, I fear that I may be next.

4. I’m Afraid of Heights. Now, I think these kids’ parents have sufficiently scared them into not touching me for fear of stealing all my magic. I cannot, however, say the same for their golden retriever who looks at me like a chew toy. I digress. I’m afraid of heights, and just in case the kiddos try to come after me, the parents always hide me up high. I know they do this for my safety more than anything, but I am just tired of dangling precariously from ceiling fans, light fixtures, being crammed into their Christmas tree, and generally observing family life from above. They do not even use a safety harness, which is in direct violation of Elfin Code 187.6b. I’m filing a safety report once I’m through here.

5. They Use Me as a Confessional. Every year from Thanksgiving until December 24, this mom looks forward to yelling “Fuzzlebub!” whenever one of the kids goes a little left of the proper rules of etiquette. She then forces the children to come tell me what they have done in a mumbling, not-very-convincing attempt at contrition. I have heard it all: he hit me, she took my toy, he breathed on me, blah, blah, blah. I mean, these kids are basically good, but their mom has them confessing every hour on the hour. I have no confessional booth, no plans to join the priesthood, and I’m pretty sure their parents aren’t sending back those Amazon orders anytime soon.

6. The Parents Forget to Move Me. We all know that this is a cardinal sin in the world of EOTS, and yet, I don’t see the mom running in to confess that to me (she will sometimes mumble an apology, but that’s it…and I still don’t get to do anything fun the next day). I have only been here three days, and they’ve already forgotten to move me. On Day Two. Seriously? Amateurs…

7. I Think They Are Plotting a Hostile Takeover and Are Raising the Third Kid to Replace Me. What do you think? Should I be worried?

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Santa, I hate to be a complainer, but I’m not sure how much longer I can work in these conditions. I know I am smiling vacantly on the outside, but on the inside, well, you’ve read my concerns. I try to live according to the elf code of conduct, but these people really make it hard sometimes. Let’s just hope that ECC 2.0 still applies to them.

Sincerely,

Fuzzlebub the Elf

PS- I would really like to do a flour angel. Any sign of goodwill would be greatly appreciated at this point.elfcode

 

 

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