Elf Christmas Quotes

On a busy day twenty-two thousand people come to visit Santa, and I was told that it is an elf's lot to remain merry in the face of torment and adversity. I promised to keep that in mind.

In a fit of Christmas spirit, Kaden had equipped her with a red and green holiday collar, complete with several jingle bells. Their own little pornographic elf.

Impossible. An old elf swearword.

To see something, you have to believe in it. Really believe it. That's the first elf rule. You can't see something you don't believe in. Now try your hardest and see if you can see what you have been looking for.

Jerome sighed and set down his fork. "Are you still doing that, Georgie? Don't I suffer enough without having to endure the humiliation of a succubus who moonlights as a Christmas elf?" "You always said I should quit the bookstore and find something else to do," I reminded him. "Yes, but that was because I thought you'd go on to do something respectable. Like become a stripper or the Mayor's mistress.

Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse; The stockings were hung by the chimney with care, In hopes that St. Nicholas soon would be there; The children were nestled all snug in their beds; While visions of sugar-plums danced in their heads; And mamma in her 'kerchief, and I in my cap, Had just settled our brains for a long winter's nap, When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter, I sprang from my bed to see what was the matter. Away to the window I flew like a flash, Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash. The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow, Gave a lustre of midday to objects below, When what to my wondering eyes did appear, But a miniature sleigh and eight tiny rein-deer, With a little old driver so lively and quick, I knew in a moment he must be St. Nick. More rapid than eagles his coursers they came, And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name: "Now, Dasher! now, Dancer! now Prancer and Vixen! On, Comet! on, Cupid! on, Donder and Blixen! To the top of the porch! to the top of the wall! Now dash away! dash away! dash away all!" As leaves that before the wild hurricane fly, When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky; So up to the housetop the coursers they flew With the sleigh full of toys, and St. Nicholas too— And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof The prancing and pawing of each little hoof. As I drew in my head, and was turning around, Down the chimney St. Nicholas came with a bound. He was dressed all in fur, from his head to his foot, And his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot; A bundle of toys he had flung on his back, And he looked like a pedler just opening his pack. His eyes—how they twinkled! his dimples, how merry! His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry! His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow, And the beard on his chin was as white as the snow; The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth, And the smoke, it encircled his head like a wreath; He had a broad face and a little round belly That shook when he laughed, like a bowl full of jelly. He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf, And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself; A wink of his eye and a twist of his head Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread; He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work, And filled all the stockings; then turned with a jerk, And laying his finger aside of his nose, And giving a nod, up the chimney he rose; He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle, And away they all flew like the down of a thistle. But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight— “Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good night!

Well, well, well,” Santa said once the elf had retreated. “Come and sit on my lap, little boy.” This Santa’s beard was real, and so was his hair. He wasn’t fucking around. “I’m not really a little boy,” I pointed out. “Get on my lap, then, big boy.” I walked up to him. There wasn’t much lap under his belly. And even though he tried to disguise it, as I went up there, I swear he adjusted his crotch. “Ho ho ho!” he chortled. I sat gingerly on his knee, like it was a subway seat with gum on it. “Have you been a good little boy this year?” he asked. I didn’t feel that I was the right person to determine my own goodness or badness, but in the interest of speeding along this encounter, I said yes. He actually wobbled with joy. “Good! Good! Then what can I bring you this Christmas?” I thought it was obvious. “A message from Lily,” I said. “That’s what I want for Christmas. But I want it right now.” “So impatient!” Santa lowered his voice and whispered in my ear. “But Santa does have a little something for you”—he shifted a little in his seat—“right under his coat. If you want to have your present, you’ll have to rub Santa’s belly.” “What?” I asked. He gestured with his eyes down to his stomach. “Go ahead.” I looked closely and saw the faint outline of an envelope beneath his red velvet coat. “You know you want it,” he whispered. The only way I could survive this was to think of it as the dare it was. Fuck off, Lily. You can’t intimidate me. I reached right under Santa’s coat. To my horror, I found he wasn’t wearing anything underneath. It was hot, sweaty, Geshy, hairy … and his belly was this massive obstacle, blocking me from the envelope. I had to lean over to angle my arm in order to reach it, the whole time having Santa laugh, “Oh ho ho, ho ho oh ho!” in my ear. I heard the elf scream, “What the hell!” and various parents start to shriek. Yes, I was feeling up Santa. And now the corner of the envelope was in my hand. He tried to jiggle it away from me, but I held tight and yanked it out, pulling some of his white belly hair with me. “OW ho ho!” he cried. I jumped o1 his lap. “Security’s here!” the elf proclaimed. The letter was in my hand, damp but intact. “He touched Santa!” a young child squealed.

Harry arrived early in the Room of Requirement for the last DA meeting before the holidays and was very glad he had, because when the torches burst into flame he saw that Dobby had taken it upon himself to decorate the place for Christmas. He could tell the elf had done it, because nobody else would have strung a hundred golden baubles from the ceiling, each showing a picture of Harry's face and bearing the legend: 'HAVE A VERY HARRY CHRISTMAS!

I am here, forever, to protect you. To help you, to love you. To keep you happy.” It was an oath that every elf knew, but never had to say. There was no prompt. At a certain age, two elves of nearly the same name would meet. Then one would say the oath, simply because they felt compelled to. It was more than a promise; it was a feeling. One that every single elf was born with.

Now, Nikolas was a happy boy. Well, actually, no. He would have told you he was happy, if you asked him, and he certainly tried to be happy, but sometimes being happy is quite tricky. I suppose what I am saying is that Nikloas was a boy who believed in happiness, the way he believed in elves and trolls and pixies, but he had never actually seen an elf or a troll or a pixie, and he hadn't really seen proper happiness either. At least, not for a very long time. He didn't have it easy.

Great. He had a ranch with no power, a burgeoning blizzard, animals depending on him and now, a frightened, felonious elf to look after.

What's going on here?" Miles demanded, pushing his way past the last of the stampeding throng. "And why is Santa worshiping that elf?

You're thinking that if the North Pole has little elves and shape-shifting reindeer that maybe werewolves aren't quite so farfetched. Am I right? Well, you're wrong. There's no such thing as werewolves. That would just be crazy.

Tizzy squawked, and he bounced like a ball on the floor.  “I completely forgot; Santa said something more. He said that a book gives your very thoughts wings, That carry you off to see wonderful things, That lift you aloft, throughout time, throughout space To every era and every place!

I don't give a flying flip who you are or that you're a foot and a half taller than me and probably outweigh me by more than eighty pounds. Get out of my way so I can see for myself that Barry's okay.” I almost laugh at the normally shy Ricky's demanding voice but I'm thinking he wouldn't appreciate it. “Now, Mr. Chief Reindeer.” “Oh, hell.” It's not so amusing when the elf is threatening the second most powerful being in the North Pole.

Once in rur-al Flathead coun-ty Stood a cru-wel Christmas scene Dumped for slaugh-ter were the rein-deer When an elf did intervene.

Someone like me cares about others, but I guess you wouldn't know anything about that.

While we wait for good things to happen for ourselves, we can do good things for other people.

His hands were tingling and he was sweating under falling snowflakes.

A friend doesn't care about the size of your house and that friend can be human, pixie or mouse. A friend may be a rabbit, a friend may be an elf. But a friend is a friend, if they like you for yourself.

But, why? You punished me, okay? You've forbidden me to," I shudder, "cum when you know my little body can only take so much of holding it in. I have a nine-inch dick, Randy. That stuff needs to come out.

And the beasts of the earth and the birds looked down, In a wild solemnity, On a stranger sight than a sylph or elf, On one man laughing at himself Under the greenwood tree- The giant laughter of Christian men That roars through a thousand tales, Where greed is an ape and pride is an ass, And Jack's away with his master's lass, And the miser is banged with all his brass, The farmer with all his flails; Tales that tumble and tales that trick, Yet end not all in scorning- Of kings and clowns in a merry plight, And the clock gone wrong and the world gone right, That the mummers sing upon Christmas night And Christmas day in the morning.

One thing I learned over the years is that you have to love wholeheartedly when your loved ones are with you. I loved my parents. I still miss them every day of my life, and they’ve been gone for centuries. One thing they taught me is when you love, you love hard. You carry that with you always, even when the ones you love are no longer in this world. I don’t think I truly appreciated that until Dylan came into my world, and then you, but that’s two different types of love.

How you felt?" he asks, still looking like he's trying to hide a smirk. "Oh, shut up. I'm going now. I'm sorry I bothered you, your Highness of Reindeerness," I say, with more than a little sarcasm. "I promise not to ever disturb you again.

It was a strange looking statue that I hadn’t seen before. I took a bite of cake and strolled over to the back door. I opened it up and looked at the statue. It looked like some sort of gnome or elf, with a pigs face. I hadn’t noticed it before and it looked out of place.

Miika had disappeared. And then Nikolas felt so dreadful he said something equally dreadful. The very worst thing that anyone can ever say. (Close your eyes and ears, especially if you are an elf.) “There is no magic,” he whispered, delirious. And after that, everything became darkness.

Eating a huge home cooked Christmas dinner was his personal favorite. Evan would look around after each Christmas Day was done. There were empty dishes, and torn up wrapping paper on the ground. Monty was passed out on the couch stuffed with food. Evan would close his eyes and hear the day. He could feel the memories that were just made.

Peppermint Whiskey? Hell, reindeer, keep up this niceness and I may have to take ya back home with us.” I lean close to him and whisper loudly, “You've already got a reindeer. You couldn't handle two of us.” He pours himself a shot before responding. “Ha! You obviously didn't know my rep in the North Pole before Randy or you'd never make such a ludicrous statement.

It's nothing fancy, I opened a jar of sauce and cooked the linguine. But there's fresh Parmesan and I even found a bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon." "You found wine." Earlier he'd been thinking about microwaved Who Hash, solitude and if he was very lucky, beer. But a hot, fresh-cooked meal? Candles? Wine? And a chatty yoga-elf chef? With a body like a Las Vegas showgirl?

The air was so frigid that it almost hurt to breathe. They wrapped their arms around one another and thought of all the Christmas cracker jokes they could remember to distract themselves from the cold. What do you get when you cross a snowman with a vampire? Frostbite. What do you call people who are afraid of Santa Claus? Claustrophobic. Why did Santa go into therapy? Because he suffered from low elf-esteem.

Now that we know Dylan's gonna live,” Evan speaks up, “I think we should leave these two alone.” He and Cole help me stand, though there's nothing wrong with my legs. “Yeah, so they can practice experimenting on that connection thing I mentioned earlier,” Barry says with a chuckle. “The man's hurt,” Evan says. “What's your point?” Willy asks. “His side is hurt, not his co-” “Willy,” Randy cuts him off. “Pfft! Like they don't know what I'm talking about.

For some, Halloween isn’t just a holiday; it’s a lifestyle, a season. Being spooky and dressing in your favorite horror movie tees and collecting everything jack-o’-lantern and Halloween has become a normal thing for a lot of people. You can’t do that for any other holiday. Every day is Christmas?—wouldn’t work. It would be really weird to see someone walking around with a snowman shirt and a pair of elf ears in July. Either that person really enjoys Christmas or he or she is on a bad trip.

Luke, meet Willy,” Micah says from behind him, his voice sounding strained. “Randy’s elf and all around pain in the ass.” “Speak for yourself, nurse boy,” Willy comes back at him with a loud laugh. “And Randy says the pain’s not so bad anymore, so ha! You know that stuff takes a lot of practice for it not to hurt every time.” Surely he’s not saying what it sounds like he’s saying? “And a lot of lube,” the elf continues. “I mean, when you’re as big as I am and all, even if Randy is a big man, he still has a tight-” Oh, he’s definitely saying it. Micah slaps his hands over his ears. “Stop it!” Willy smirks at him. “I bet you won’t call me a pain in the ass in front of somebody again.

The kids helped keep me together as well. One day they came in from playing after dinner, and I told them I was just completely exhausted by work and everything else. I said I’d take a shower as soon as I finished up; then we’d read and get ready for bed. They warmed up some towels in the dryer while I was showering and had them waiting for me when I was done. They made some hot coffee--not really understanding that coffee before bed isn’t the best strategy. But it was just the way I like it, and waiting on the bed stand. They turned down the bedcovers and even fluffed my pillows. Most of the time, their gifts are unintentional. Angel recently decided that, since the Tooth Fairy is so nice, someone should be nice to her. My daughter wrote a little note and left it under her pillow with some coins and her tooth. Right? The Tooth Fairy was very taken with that, and wrote a note back. “I’m not allowed to take money from the children I visit,” she wrote. “But I was so grateful. Thank you.” Then there was the time the kids were rummaging through one of Chris’s closets and discovered the Christmas Elf. Now everyone knows that the Christmas Elf only appears on Christmas Eve. He stays for a short while as part of holiday cheer, then magically disappears for the rest of the year. “What was he doing here!” they said, very concerned, as they brought the little elf to me. “And in Daddy’s closet!” I called on the special brain cells parents get when they give birth. “He must have missed Daddy so much that he got special permission to come down and hang out in his stuff. I wonder how long he’ll be with us?” Just until I could find another hiding place, of course. What? Evidence that Santa Claus doesn’t exist, you say? Keep it to yourself. In this house, we believe.

I have never tried to walk through a mall in the Christmas season dressed like a jolly old elf. You might as well dress up like a pork chop and walk into an alley full of starving dogs.

Plus she did that stupid “Elf on the Shelf” thing and moved it every morning. It took another minute, but he finally found the bendy little freak hanging from the garland around one of her windows.

Are you embarrassed to be seen with an elf in public?”   He smiled and said, “No miss, but I was thinking about what a picture an elf having lunch with a chauffeur might present.

She turned on the radio. Christmas music filled the car. She turned it off with a groan. "It's not going to turn you into an elf if you listen," he promised and liked the smile that played at the corner of her lips, wiggling the small mole that kept drawing his attention. She glanced at him. "Do you believe in Christmas?" "I do," he said without hesitation. "Even after all you've seen and done overseas?" "Especially because of that...

Santa is like a queen bee. All the elves are his drones, who exist to feed him royal jelly, which I guess would be milk and cookies. If an elf escapes and eats royal cookies, it will turn into another Santa. That’s what all those mall Santas are. They’re trying to start their own festive colonies.

I don't like humans. Sure, they're good for an occasional fuck, but they aren't like reindeer. They may look like us when we're shifted, but that's the extent of it. If that makes me human-phobic, so be it. Some I've hooked up with wanted more than I was willing to give them. When I take off to the states for a holiday, it damn sure isn't to find someone to develop feelings for.

Ooh!” Willy pipes up. “Maybe he'll write a story about Santa and Mrs. Claus getting caught with their pants down with other people. If we get lucky, maybe he'll kill-” “Don't finish that sentence, elf.” “Randy, you're such a spoilsport. You can't say you haven't conjured up that scenario in your big head a time or a dozen. Continue. Maybe I'll write that story.” “No, you won't. Your idea of a good story is nothing but sex, sex, and more sex. You'd never make it through writing a chapter because you'd have to stop and jerk off a half dozen times.” “Ew! Not about Santa and Mrs. Claus. Yuck,” Willy comes back at him with a sour look on his face. “That's not even funny, Randy.

It's just sex, Blake. Isn't that what you said to me the last time? No emotions. Just sex.” “I'll only end up hurting you,” I say to the wall. “Worse than I did before.” He moves from the back of the sofa and comes to stand directly in front of me. His dick is mere inches from my mouth. I have to swallow several times to keep from using my tongue on it. I close my eyes. “I can't, Seth. If I take you now I'll be rough and I'll end up hurting you in other ways.” “Being rough wasn't a concern of yours before.” “I'm not the same person I was before.

There’s a heart-wrenching scene in Rudolph, the Red-Nosed Reindeer, the old stop-motion Christmas TV special, that has always resonated with me. After his run-in with the Abominable Snowman, Rudolph and his buddies seek asylum on the Island of Misfit Toys, a haven for crappy, deformed, and unwanted toys presumably built by an elf with substance abuse issues. There’s the choo-choo train with square wheels, the water pistol that shoots jelly, the cowboy riding an ostrich, the white elephant with pink polka dots, the infelicitously named Charlie-in-the-Box. “Hey we’re all misfits, too!” Rudolph squeals to his newfound friends, and everyone breaks into song. I cry every time I see it.

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Serge,” said Coleman. “Are we shopping?” “No, I just love coming to the mall at Christmas, digging how stores tap into the whole holiday spirit, especially the bookstores with their special bargain displays.” “Displays?” asked Coleman. “Big ones near the front,” said Serge. “If you want to show someone you put absolutely zero thought into their gift, you buy a giant picture book about steam locomotives, ceramic thimbles, or Scotland.” “But why are we wearing elf suits?” “To spread good cheer.” “What for?” “Because of the War on Christmas.” “Who started the war?” asked Coleman. “Ironically, the very people who coined the term and claim others started the war. They’re upset that people of different faiths, along with the coexistence crowd who respect those faiths, are saying ‘Season’s Greetings’ and ‘Happy Holidays.’ But nobody’s stopping anyone from saying ‘Merry Christmas.’ ” “And they’re still mad?” Serge shrugged. “It’s the new holiness: Tolerance can’t be tolerated. So they hijack the birth of Jesus as a weapon to start quarrels and order people around. Christmas should be about the innocence of children—and adults reverting to children to rediscover their innocence. That’s why we’re in elf suits. We’re taking Christmas back!

Yes. I gave an elf some hewlip soup and their head exploded. Ir was so much fun it was almost worth life imprisonment. I am saving my last leaf for someone special. I love seeing heads explode. I can't help it!' Nikolas felt fear prickle his skin. If even he sweetest-looking pixie could turn out to be a murderer, there really was no hope. 'Would you like to see my head explode?' Nikolas asked, although he was petrified of the answer. The Truth Pixie desperately tried to lie. 'Nnnnnnnnnnn...yes! I would like that so much!' The she looked guilty. 'Sorry,' she added, softly.

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Nick got roped into playing Santa at the old mall, and Hunter was his elf.

Down the entire length of the waiting line, as if Annie’s fit was a kind of wildfire, other children began to scream and shake. A few parents had to drag their possessed children away, giving up their places, which caused the children to scream even more. The people who remained in line looked at Caleb and Camille and Annie as if they had personally ruined Christmas for all time. It was, Caleb realized, amazing. “Hurry up and take the photo,” Caleb said to the bored elf and there was a flash of bulbs, the click of the captured image, and Caleb quickly ran toward Santa, plucked the child out of the terrified old man’s lap, and hugged his daughter, feeling the radiating warmth of her unhappiness now happily in his possession

You are everything I’ve ever hoped for, Drew, more than I ever believed I could hope for.” I reach up and wipe a tear that’s slowly making its way down his cheek. “I thought I knew what love was. I was wrong. Only when you came into my life did I truly understand it, feel it. Thank you for giving me something I’ve always longed for.” “What is that, Santa?” “Forever.

It all began when Santa’s helpers demanded Universal Elf Care.

NEVER STOP DREAMING. As DREAMS have the special powers to come true one day!

Am I doing it right?” he asks as he speeds up his movements. I hear the nervousness in his voice. My hands slide up his back. “If you were doing it any more right I don't think I could handle it,” I respond softly, meaning it. “You're perfect.” He shakes his head a little. “You're so quiet,” he says. My hands go back to his hips as he continues to move over me. “I'm thinking about how good it is, how good we are.

The jolly old elf’s nose was red, but not from cold — rather, from the brutality of a dozen boxes of Kleenex. Mucus flowed freely down his cheeks, and mixed with tears of agony. She folded her arms, pursed her lips, and declared: “You’re not going out this week.

Look. This is a Christmas tree. It’s a decoration. Why do you think everything is a toy, Cat?” “I thought it was a toy ball, not a toy cat, and this thing here looks like a mouse-toy,” Trouble said, pointing to a mouse dressed in elf clothes that hung on the tree. “That is a toy mouse, not a mouse-toy for cats!” I said sternly. “What’s the difference?” said Roger, poking at it and getting it swinging. Trouble added in wonder, “You think the people of the house did not put this mouse and these balls here for us to play with?” “Yes ….” “So we’re playing. What’s the problem?” “No, Cat!” I stammered. “I mean. Yes, they did not.” Roger-That said, “I think you are confused black and white Patch Dog.” Finally, I said, “I am finished with this head-ache!” Trouble said, “Ok. What head-ache do you want?” “No. I mean you are the head-ache.” “Wrong.” he said, “I am Trouble.” “You got that right, Cat!” I said. “You should watch what comes out of your mouth!” “At least what comes out of my mouth isn’t dog drool!

Q: Why is it so cold at Christmas? A: Because it’s in Decembrrr!

It's a scientifically proven fact that an elf falls down dead every time they hear a swearword.

To the right, a tiny red coat with a thick white collar dangles from a hook. It looks a lot like Christmas and is just about the right size for an elf. There is a bit of magic in it. Of this I have no doubt. For that little coat gets me to stop many times each day to consider what matters in life and what it means to be human. That’s why I didn’t box it up and hide it away in the back of some closet. It is meant to be seen, because I don’t ever want life to get so busy and complicated that I forget.

I’m Smelfy, probably Santa’s top elf. And this is Bob, Santa’s backup-backup-spare flightless reindeer.

You see, sometimes, a single child believing in magic - if they believe enough - is enough to restore order to the universe.

It's very... christmas movie. Like the cheesy ones on channel 5, where some frosty bitch from the city breaks up with a smarmy lawyer, and has a breakdown, so has to go home to Leafy Glade, Alabama, where she reunites with the humble carpenter she dated in high school, and ends up working as a mall elf, and rediscovers the true meaning of Christmas.

I may be an elf,” I said with a smile that never failed to charm people, “but I'm not a stupid elf. I've got a college degree and everything.” “In what?” the little girl asked. “Dumb elfery?” I tried not to snort, but even I admit that was funny. “No, actually the courses in dumb elfery were full so I had to take the ones in cute elfery instead.” I pulled back and did a little spin, making sure the bells on my hat and shoes jingled. “So, did I deserve that degree or what? I graduated with honors and everything.” Emma did a circle with her finger, motioning for me to turn around again. I did and when I turned back, she was tapping her chin. “I think you should probably ask for your money back.

...but he was a prince, and I was a cocktail elf. There wasn't exactly a future there.

Yes.” Santa admitted. “We feed it to the world. Every piece of candy you ever got in a stocking… it came from an elf’s bum.

The Christmas stuff. The magic, the tree, the elf. You love it.” “Yeah. I do. My parents weren’t too big into it, and I knew I always wanted to do it for my kids.

and I could feel how open and ready I was becoming. The slight pain was blossoming into a deep, hot pleasure that I couldn’t begin to understand or describe, but I constantly craved.

he brought his hand down hard on the other cheek, stirring me deep within as the adrenaline began to flood my nerves.

Elves don't shimmer

I lean in and place my lips against his again. This time I don't stop with a quick whisper touch. I slide my tongue across his lips until he opens for me. His hands go to my waist to pull me closer as our tongues meet. We kiss slowly, neither of us in a hurry to take it further. My dick is hard enough to pound nails, but this moment isn't about that. It's about finally, finally being with the man who's had me tied up in knots for the past year.

Willy looks between Randy and me for a few seconds. “Holy candy canes. You two could almost pass for brothers.” I lean against the bar. “Not quite. I'm a couple of inches shorter, and I don't have the muscle your reindeer has.” “It's the long black hair.” He points at Randy. “I have a thing for long black hair. Hot damn, two hotties like you in Santa's Village at the same time? The elves wouldn't get any work done. They'd be too busy staring and jerk-” “Enough, elf,” Randy stops him.

... I've never met a magical creature before. All I know is what I've heard in stories. Father Christmas, for instance, with the elves who make the toys." Tergil was impassive. "We relate a similar tale," he replied. "It is called Santa Clause and his slave workforce". "Oh," said Thorpe. "It is an ancient story," said the elf, "about the perils of trusting strangers. It does have a happy ending, though. The evil Clause is beaten to death with hunks of reindeer meat.

I like peppermint in my coffee. Tell her, Marsh.” “Yeah, he’s part Christmas elf,

Gabe, it’s Christmas Eve! No fucker’s working! Not even me. Go fuck off, relax, enjoy the holidays, and try to spread some Christmas cheer.” “Do I look like a fucking elf?” I snap again, the irritation clear in my voice. “Well, go find some Christmas pussy and fuck that attitude out of ya for all I care. Just get the fuck off the phone. Me and my little angel are making Christmas cookies, aren’t we?” he coos in some pathetic baby voice. “That kid’s made you fucking weak man,” I scoff. “Remember who you’re talking to. I may have not brought you into this world but I’m more than happy to take you out of it. Now f.u.c.k. off, before I kick your a.s.s.,” he spells out because of his granddaughter’s proximity to him.