I was born in the Bronx way back in 1902.
St. Anne’s orphanage was
the only home I ever knew till I went north years later. The place was crazy; a
lotta little midgets running around makin’ a lotta noise. I guess I was one of ‘em, except I was no
midget – I was an elf. I stayed in that
place for 30 years until they figured out I wasn’t no kid! So I packed my shit
up and hit the road. I joined the army for a while, got into some action at
Omaha Beach even. After dat, I never trucked with the military much.
I joined the circus for a
while – but the bearded lady and I didn’t get along. The fact was, I couldn’t stand
life on the road livin’ wit all them freaks – I was longing for a fambly, if
you get my meanin’.
One night, Christmas Eve if
you gotta know - I was on the roof of my tenement building because my landlady
didn’t like my cigar smoke. She always smelled it through the vents and complained so I went up on the roof. I was
feeling lonesome as hell too, wit the snow fallin’ and all streets quiet and
empty. To be honest, I crawled out on the ledge. I was thinkin’ of just ending
it. I was just a lowly Elf, livin’ off racetrack bets and scroungin’ for
handouts.
I was a Bronx kid, though.
I couldn’t do it. Plus, that street looked like it could hurt a guy real bad
falling from dat height.
I went back on the roof and
finished my stogie, lookin’ up at the twinklin’ snowy sky. It was damned cold. I
never felt so bad in my whole life.
I saw sumpin’ then, over
the East River. Looked like plane or some kinda flying object. I tracked it for
a while and realized it was comin’ right towards me! I ran back and ducked
behind a ventilator shaft.
I heard bells, and some guy
yelling. I heard da soft thump of somethin’ landing.
Now don’t get me wrong – I ain’t
no pansy or nuthin’ – but this was strange. I can deal with stormin’ a
beachhead and all, but the unknown always unnerves me, y’know?
I peeked around the corner an
I saw animals or somthin’, shakin’ snow off themselves. Everytime they did
that, bells would jingle. There was some fat shmoe sittin’ in a red sled too. All
of a sudden I hear my name!
“Charles! Charles! Come out
from behind there!”
There was a silence as I
was trying to figure out what to do.
“Who wants ta know?” I said
after a while.
I peeked over my hiding
spot and saw the lard-ass comin’ towards me. He was big – triple my size – but I
figured if I bit his knee caps the odds would be evened out.
He stuck his head around
the vent, and stared right at me.
“Charles! I found you!” he
said. He had dis soppy smile on his face, what you could see of it anyway with
that friggin’ large white beard.
“Listen Mack …” I started
to say.
“Charles! You must come
with me! You don’t belong here. You belong up at the North Pole with the
others!”
I looked at dis guy and
thought he was nuts. “You shittin’ me?”
He straightened up and
crinkled his nose.
“I’m afraid I’m not! You
are an Elf, of the elfus smallicus genus. All my staff up at the North Pole is
comprised of Elves. You see, you were given up for adoption by mistake. Due to your transient nature we couldn't locate you.”
I looked up at the guy, and
I could see he was tellin’ da truth. Others like me? Elves? For true?
Dat was the one and only
time I cried – at least since that time I crapped my pants back at the Orphanage
and the sister swatted me a good one.
“Come! You can help me give
out presents tonight, then we can take you home,” he said. He wedged his large
ass back into the sled, and I followed. There
wasn’t much space between his girth and all them sacks’a toys for me to sit,
but I managed.
He tole me about his toy
making racket and all the right-offs he got for it. Pretty slick, I had to
agree. We shot up inna sky and I was dubious about them moose things haulin’ us
up into the stratosphere and all, but they maintained a good speed, except for
the turbulence which I didn’t care for.
All night long we delivered
them friggin toys, all over the damned world. I was so tired by the end, I
thought I’d collapse. But this guy, Santa, he had a mini bar in his sled and I
had a few shots of whiskey. We delivered our last toy to some kid in Montana –
a train set. We went down the chimney (I still couldn’t get over goin’ down
them tings!). I was placin’ it under the
tree when I heard a noise. I look over and see the kid peeking around the
corner at me.
“Ain’t polite to stare,
kid,” I said. “Murry Christmas.”
Da kid scampered off.
Not even ten minutes into
our journey north I was out like a light.
So, I went to the North
Pole. I met my mom! Saw all the udder elves like me. It was a happy homecoming,
I gotta say. Still, I miss New York sometimes, even though I visit occasionally.
I miss the smell of the Hudson, the rude
people, the street vendors selling junk, Coney Island hot dogs, the racetrack,
all of it. But it ain’t so bad up here; got lotsa snow, plenty of fresh air,
and the pay is good. Made foreman a few
years ago; I’m in charge of making them iPad thingies. Big responsibility. The uniforms could use some revamping, but y’can’t
have everything, am I right?
I guess I didn’t do so bad
after all, y’know?
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