I was decorating the tree that night; Elsie and the kids had gone out to carol the neighborhood. I’d gotten the lights strung and was a little ways into putting on the glass balls and hanging doodads when I heard the thumps. They were coming from the closet; the locked one where we keep all the presents. We’d had a problem with mice that summer, and thinking they were back, I grabbed the fireplace poker and turned the latch, expecting to do battle. Wasn’t I surprised when this monstrous little elf-looking thing jumped out, past me, and into the tree. I had no idea where it came from, since I certainly hadn’t bought it. It seemed to wiggle and furkle about, scrunching from the middle to the top of the balsam. I approached it, having no idea how to dislodge the thing without destroying the tree or getting too close to it. Could it bite? Was it dangerous? Suddenly it leapt out of the tree and onto the carpet in the middle of the room. Holy mother of God! It was horrible! Scrunched up eyes, weird ears, and a malformed face, it sat there, eyeing me. It bobbed there for a second or two. I was trying to think of what to do with it. Smash it with the poker? Capture it and call the news station? Too late. It bounced like a tennis ball into the box of glass decorations, and before I could say ‘knife,’ it leapt back into the tree carrying several fragile glass globes. In less than a second, it jumped back to the collection of glass ornaments, sans the ones it had carried. These were expertly hung in the spaces that needed them! It took less than twenty seconds of jumping back and forth before the tree had not only been decorated with shiny baubles (not one got broken), but tinsel and the topping star were hung, attached, and plugged in. The thing squatted in the middle of the living room, eyeing me suspiciously and bobbing up and down. Then it made a tremendous leap and sproinged back into the closet. The wind it created caused the door to slam behind it. I stood there, mouth opening and closing like a drowning fish. When Elsie came home with the kids, they lavished praise after praise upon my decorating ability. It was the best ever, they all said. I just wonder what we’re going to find when Elsie and I open the closet to begin wrapping presents tomorrow night.
Christmas gift idea #417
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I was decorating the tree that night; Elsie and the kids had gone out to carol the neighborhood. I’d gotten the lights strung and was a little ways into putting on the glass balls and hanging doodads when I heard the thumps. They were coming from the closet; the locked one where we keep all the presents. We’d had a problem with mice that summer, and thinking they were back, I grabbed the fireplace poker and turned the latch, expecting to do battle.
Wasn’t I surprised when this monstrous little elf-looking thing jumped out, past me, and into the tree. I had no idea where it came from, since I certainly hadn’t bought it. It seemed to wiggle and furkle about, scrunching from the middle to the top of the balsam. I approached it, having no idea how to dislodge the thing without destroying the tree or getting too close to it. Could it bite? Was it dangerous?
Suddenly it leapt out of the tree and onto the carpet in the middle of the room. Holy mother of God! It was horrible! Scrunched up eyes, weird ears, and a malformed face, it sat there, eyeing me. It bobbed there for a second or two.
I was trying to think of what to do with it. Smash it with the poker? Capture it and call the news station?
Too late.
It bounced like a tennis ball into the box of glass decorations, and before I could say ‘knife,’ it leapt back into the tree carrying several fragile glass globes. In less than a second, it jumped back to the collection of glass ornaments, sans the ones it had carried. These were expertly hung in the spaces that needed them!
It took less than twenty seconds of jumping back and forth before the tree had not only been decorated with shiny baubles (not one got broken), but tinsel and the topping star were hung, attached, and plugged in.
The thing squatted in the middle of the living room, eyeing me suspiciously and bobbing up and down.
Then it made a tremendous leap and sproinged back into the closet. The wind it created caused the door to slam behind it.
I stood there, mouth opening and closing like a drowning fish.
When Elsie came home with the kids, they lavished praise after praise upon my decorating ability. It was the best ever, they all said.
I just wonder what we’re going to find when Elsie and I open the closet to begin wrapping presents tomorrow night.
Thanks for your Christmas furkling and scrunching goblin tale. It brings a tear. Wait. That's blood. Oh, well.
And to all a good night.
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