An Elf's Life [FREE POST]
What it's like to be an Elf on the Shelf
Hey readrzTM! I’m so glad you dropped by. I usually write posts offering advice and insight about #comedylife, (it’s a real hashtag, Google it on Instagram), and also stories about being a comedian in NYC in the 00s-20s, as well as a skosh of gossip from time to time. Sometimes, I feature interviews, satire or other comedy related stuff I made. I ask people to donate $7 per month to keep inspiring me to write stuff, but I also give you services in return, including an ear to listen to your comedy woes (and help you solve them—try me), and other services that are worth way more than $7 per month (I can design your business card, make you a flyer, help you plan a tour, and some other stuff). Plus, I’m super nice. Mostly.
Etc.:
Etc. is a regular segment that features a mish mash of mostly comedy-related what nots I’ve had a hand in. Further below, you’ll find Daily Musings, a regular segment featuring other people, mostly comedians, and/or typically about the world of comedy.
AI me telling a joke | TikTok
What It’s Like To Be A White Shirt Girl | McSweeney’s
Here I am in an Irish Podcast | Rory’s Post Office
The inspiration for An Elf’s Life | Facebook
Today’s post is a piece of satire that I submitted to McSweeney’s that was rejected. They’ve taken a bunch of my pieces, but mostly, I get rejected by them. I’m honored to be part of both extensive groups of writers. Enjoy!
An Elf’s Life
by Jessica Delfino
Dec. 1. I am taking my elfspringa as an Elf On The Shelf in the home of a nice family somewhere on the east coast who are apparently very prompt rule followers. The mom depicted me arriving in a little parachute. In the night, the parachute became dislodged from the nail it was precariously hung on, and I fell into the trash can, so when the kids found me in the morning, I was covered in egg shells and coffee grinds. Rough way to start the season.
Dec. 2. I woke up in a tiny little bed made inside a shoe box having had the best night’s sleep of my life. The mom set me up with eye covers, a very cozy pillow made out of a few cotton balls in a little handkerchief and a copy of a newspaper called The North Pole Times. I don’t know where it came from, I’m sure I never saw it before back home, but it was a great read.
Dec. 6. The mom forgot to move me and the dad sure isn’t going to do it. I heard them arguing about it last night. He was all like, “I’m Jewish, Linda! But even if I did celebrate Christmas, I don’t play with elves,” and then Linda subtly stomped up the stairs. I’ve been stuck in a limbo solitaire hand with half the deck scattered around me for 4 days.
Dec 7. I’m on top of the fridge with my legs dangling over the edge. Every time someone goes to get a pickle or a glass of juice, I get my limbs smashed in the door and fall over face first into a magnet that says Las Vegas.
Dec. 9. The kids touched me today when Linda wasn’t looking, which is a total elf no-no. The rules go, if the kids touch me, I disappear. Unfortunately, it’s bogus, for both kids and cats. One of the children (who look like giant elves if you ask me) had jam on her fingers, and so now, not only am I sticky in one spot on my torso, their cat licked me for a good 20 minutes, which was terrifying but also kind of nice. Thankfully, Linda came to move me to my next spot. I think she’s running out of ideas, because she left me sitting on top of a can of mushroom soup in the pantry.
Dec. 12. It took a while for the kids to find me, because none of them can open the pantry door without help. I didn’t mind sitting alone in the dark for a few days. It gave me a chance to think about what it is, exactly, that I’m doing with my life.
Dec. 14. You won’t believe this. Linda and the dad ate a ton of “Halo Wine Candy” (sp?) and scattered the wrappers around me like I ate it all, as if I’d eat several times my weight in Snickers bars and Skittles in one sitting. I’m an elf, not a slob. It’s belittling. The worst part, they didn’t even leave me one crumb.
Dec. 15. I woke up this morning conducting a train that was circling a giant dead pine tree. As I hit the curve at top speed, praying desperately to a God I don’t believe in, I realized it was one of those self-driving smart trains. After 75 times around the tracks, the kids got bored and went to watch tv, and I got sick in my tiny hat. Only 9 more days of this.
Dec. 16. The mom let the oldest child take me to sleep in his bed tonight. I’m writing this from between a thigh and a pillow. I can’t breathe, and I am not allowed to quit or die.
Dec. 19. Being forgotten about during the Christmas season isn’t so bad, if you’re a box of Easter decorations or a duffel bag full of swimsuits. But December is literally my time to shine, and by shine, I guess I mean get peed on. I should be grateful, it’s probably the only reason I was found, tangled up in the Spider-Man flat sheet Linda pulled off the bed. Somehow I became dislodged, smashing into the floor before I was tossed into the wash. The scent of strawberry jam and coffee grinds and urine is something I’ll just have to get used to.
Dec. 20. I was placed amid a charcuterie board today with a spread of cheeses, crackers and olives. My job was to wrap my arms around a giant bowl of fondue in the middle of it all. These people obviously think I’m American. Of course, the children repeatedly dribbled globs of boiling lava onto my arms. Thank goodness I have no flesh. It seems this family’s secret goal is to cover me in every feasible fluid and goo in this house before the season ends.
Dec. 21. Today, I was positioned hanging from a ceiling fan. I don’t know how much more of this I can take.
Dec. 22. I was placed into a shoe before the mom went to bed tonight. A stinky work boot, no less. Has she no shame?
Dec. 23. The kids thought it was so funny in the morning to find me in a boot, smelling of man feet. They threw me back and forth, laughing with glee as a faint trail of sweaty socks, a boy’s pee and berry jam wafted behind me in the air. I couldn’t help but laugh, myself, and let out the faintest little “wheeee!” on one particular pass.
Dec. 24. It’s Christmas Eve. Right now, I’m enjoying my place seated on my throne of sorts, atop an impressive array of sparkling gifts underneath a wilting tower of glistening lights and ornaments. Santa slid down the chimney a while ago, spotted this toy mountain and was livid. He flew back up the chimney in a rage, mumbling something about his job being outsourced. Tomorrow morning, the children won’t even notice me as they rip and tear open their bounty of presents. I guess I should be relieved—no more high speed train rides, fan rotations, smelly boots or golden showers. But I do admit, it was kind of fun. Do I end my elfspringa and return to the North Pole? Or be the cat’s plaything for another year until Christmas comes back around?
Such are the quandaries in an elf’s life!
Daily Musings:
Chris Rock stormed out of billionaire’s party | Page Six
Wisconsin’s comedy scene sounds dope (if not far) | NPR
Inside The Soapstone VR Comedy Club | WhatsTrending
Merry Tuesday!
So good, Jessica!!! Totally needed this good laugh ❤️