At this precise moment, the three wise men were not feeling very wise, instead, they were feeling hungry and crabby. All of this following the North Star for days on end appeared futile, maybe even stupid. It was wearing them down physically and spiritually. Yet, somehow faith won out over reason, and they forged ahead. They grumbled about the combined stink of frankincense, myrrh, the camel, and Bethlehem.
A previous happy Christmas in Bedrock.
It was Christmas day in Bedrock. In years past, it was a festive time of hustle and bustle and cheer and joy and camaraderie, but this year, due to the Great Depression, it was forlorn. Money was scarce, except for the fat cats, The Slates ,The Rockefellers and Clay Aikens.
DISCLAIMER: Many facts were altered to make the following a Christmas tale.
We were bored, cabin fever. What was supposed to be a two-day visit turned out to be a snowed in five-day ordeal in Mason City. Despite all this, we were feeling festive. It’s probably important to convey, we were stoned immaculate and as drunk as off-duty elves. Two words gave us focus and led us to the merriest Christmas since the birth of what’s his name. Pastry elephants.
You would never believe the horrors The Elf On The Shelf® saw; not that you could ever tell from that incredible manufactured poker face- that permanent winsome smile, those large painted eyes always looking away, the stupid lashes, and that damn eternal impish grin. He went by the name, Twenty Nine.
The sound of a switchblade and a motorbike.
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