Page 1 of The Elf’s Naughty Toy

1

Brawn

“Brawn, what are you doing all the way back here?”

My heart nearly explodes from my chest at the booming sound of Santa’s voice. I quickly shut the lid of the toy I’m working on, crossing my fingers he didn’t catch a glimpse of my handiwork.

“Just wanted some quiet.” I shrug, trying to keep my voice from giving me away. But by the way Santa’s brow is narrowing, I think I’ve been caught.

“Let me guess.” He looks down at the yellow metal box in front of me. “When the crank turns, there’s going to be more than just a clown that explodes from the top.”

I can’t even fight the smirk. Who the heck wants a box where a stupid little clown pops out of it? That’s the most boring toy on the planet. I figured I’d see if I could improve on the design. At least make it something kids would actually find funny.

Santa steps forward, reaching for its crank, and I stare at the top, waiting in anticipation for it to open. He starts turning the handle around and around, and then—boing!—the clownsprings up. And so does his little dick. A chuckle comes rumbling out of my throat as the little cock bobs up and down, but my laughter quickly dies in my throat when I see the look on Santa’s face. He isn’t amused. In fact, he looks downright livid.

“That’s it, Brawn. You are officially banned from the workshop.”

What? No! If I’m no longer allowed to make toys, that means I’m going to be stuck on reindeer duty and will have to shovel their poop all day long. And man, do those deer know how to stink up a stall.

“It was just a joke, Santa. I wasn’t really going to give it to a kid.”I was going to give it to one of the other elves so that they could give it to a kid.

“Joke or not, Brawn, it isn’t funny. If that thing accidentally got sent down to a child, they’d be scarred for life. Not only that, but people would start calling me Santa ‘the Pedo’ Claus, and holiday spirit would plummet. That thing could destroy the magic of Christmas.”

I fight the urge to roll my eyes. I highly doubt Christmas would come to an end over one stupid little toy. But Santa is definitely known for being dramatic. One year, he claimed that my screw-up caused a girl to completely lose her Christmas spirit and she stopped believing in him. All I did was give her the truth for Christmas, but apparently that was the worst thing I could’ve done. Apparently, I should’ve given her a wooden rocking horse instead. Ever since then, I’ve been banned to the North Pole, no longer allowed to help him deliver presents on Christmas Eve.

“Brawn, I think it’s time you finally understood what Christmas means to the world. I’m going to be sending you in as one of my helpers.” He points me with a look, and my ears spring right up. “You’ll be sent into one of the many stations whereyou’ll play the role of Santa, asking all the boys and girls what they want for Christmas.”

No! That’s even worse than shoveling deer shit. I don’t want to be one of the mall rats. They have to sit there and listen to all the bratty kids go on and on, listing out every toy known to man. Although, these days, most of them beg for video games so they can turn their brains into mush. So I’ll get to listen to the never-ending list of online downloads that mean nothing to me. Not only that, but I’ll be required to be extra cheery. And for anyone who knows me, the word doesn’t exist in my vocabulary.

“Can’t I tend to the reindeer instead? I’m not good with kids, Santa. I’m liable to make them cry with my looks.” Out of all the elves, I’m known as the ugly one. I’m the one that looks like a big ogre. Taller than all the rest. My face more manly than elvish. My hands huge and feet the size of a giant. Not to mention my Popeye muscles. It’s why they gave me the name Brawn. I’m not one of the adorable elves that kids see in books and think are cute. I’m brutish and have one too many scars on my face from tumbling out of the trees as a young elf.

“You’ll be disguised as me.” Santa shakes his head at me like I should know how all this works, yet I’ve never been sent in as a helper. In fact, I’m the oldest elf who’s never seen a human in person. Only through the crystal snow globe. “You’ll be wearing a Santa suit and beard. Besides, my magic dust will make you look like me so you will fit right in with the humans.”

“But will your magic change my personality?” I’m not trying to be obstinate, but will the stuff make me happy and cheerful, because if not, the kids are going to mistake me for Scrooge and the spirit of the holiday really will tank.

“Your job is to spread Christmas cheer, Brawn, and to make those kids believe in Santa Claus. If you don’t, then you’ll be banished from the North Pole and forced to live amongst the human population for good.” His eyes narrow down the ridge ofhis nose, glaring at me through his thick glasses. “I may even turn you into a kid again.”

My stomach plummets, feeling like it’s just been kicked by a dozen sugar plum fairies. The thought is absolutely dreadful. Not only do I not want to have to relive being a teenager and going through all the awkward phases again, but I don’t want to live amongst a bunch of kids who think they deserve a trophy just for having their name on the roster. That would be a life sentence in purgatory.

“But Santa…”

“No buts, Brawn. I’ve grown tired of your mischief. It’s time for you to truly understand what Christmas means to the universe. It’s not just about kids getting the toys they want, it’s about joy and love. Bringing families and friends together. It’s about letting go of the pain and the stress, and remembering what truly matters in life. This job will hopefully open your eyes once and for all. So now, I suggest you take one from Santa’s book—channel that inner holiday cheer and do me proud. Otherwise, you’ll be facing the consequences come Christmas morning.”

Great. One little prank that was meant to be funny and now I’ve been demoted to a mall elf. And if I don’t do a good job, Santa will make me live in hell. Awesome. Well, at least Christmas is only four days away; otherwise, I’d be doomed.

2

Millie

“Come on, Millie! We’re going to be late.”

I turn my head as Laney comes bursting into my room looking like a little candy cane explosion. Her mom dressed her in a red satin dress with thick white tights, and her two blonde pigtails are wrapped with red and white ribbons. Even her little white Mary Janes have candy canes sewn onto the tops of them. She seriously looks like a little Christmas doll, ready to have her picture taken for the “perfect family” album.

I put my mascara down and pick up my lip gloss. “We’re not going to be late, Lane. The guy will be sitting there until the mall closes.”

It’s not like we have tickets for a specific time slot, which would actually be amazing. Nope, we have to go wait in a long-ass line with a bunch of annoying kids crying about their pigtails being too tight or their outfits being too itchy, or that they don’t want to sit on the scary man’s lap.Although, I seriously can’t blame them for that one. I wouldn’t want to sit on the creeper’s lap either. The only thing we’re going to be late for isthe headache I’m going to have from having to spend the day pretending like we’re one big happy family.

“No.” She comes over and yanks on the bottom of my leather jacket. “Santa has to return to the North Pole at six, so we only have a few hours.”

---