Let me begin by saying, what the hell?
Your propaganda makes me vomit. You were once a cute elf sold in adorable stores that smelled of hot apple cider sprinkled with lovely memories. You were understated. You politely stared at the wrong doings of my children from a proper distance. You didn’t have a pet, a movie, a collectible book series or an attitude.
Now your smug face is plastered everywhere. How many shelves at Target are dedicated to your commercialism? For the love, you aren’t Buzz Lightyear or a Disney Princess, you’re an elf. You shouldn’t even be in Target. You should be in the North Freaking Pole or a quaint shop where you are one of a kind. What exactly does selling out taste like? I imagine peppermint candy canes laced with mass marketing?
Your magic is tarnished my friend.
When did the luster fade? Probably when you started selling tiny clothes and other crap. Riddle me this, how does one put a skirt on you? Per your legend, you can’t be touched. Get your story straight you publicity hog.
This year, you require a pet.
Yes, a pet.
Apparently, you have a reindeer who helps you fly to the North Pole. The hell? How do we explain to our kids that their elf never came with a pet so he has no assistance flying home? You can’t just change the entire story! It’s ridiculous! Next year you will probably sell an Elf of the Shelf for your Elf on a Shelf. Similar to American Girl Dolls for your American Girl Doll (dumbest idea ever). Just evil. You are confusing the hell out of children. And for what? A lousy buck. You’re better than this.
Why don’t you title your next best selling book, ‘Hey Kids, There is no Santa’. How are parents going to explain this bull to our kids? Look at all these elves, aren’t they cute? They fly and talk to Santa. But, first they need mittens, a reindeer, a sports jersey and a good kick in the face. You may be able to pull this with toddlers, but what about older children? Your antics are blowing the secret of Santa. Older kids figure out your truth way too early. And for good reason, your marketing yourself to every big box store in the United States. They get it.
So, focus up you over sensationalized cheeky little dwarf. I hope you take a long look at yourself and fly back to Santa for forgiveness. Kids are now bowing down to your shrine while the Big Guy is doing all the work. I’m sure Santa just shakes his jolly beard when he catches a glimpse of you flying into the workshop with a Chicago Bears jersey. Who do you think you are?
Finally, stop creating chaos in my house. Bench pressing marshmallows? Taking down lights? Leaving chocolate for the kids? Enough. First you steal Santa’s thunder and now your acting like a leprechaun? Have you no shame? And honestly, what the hell are you looking at???
Keep this nonsense up and you’re going to find yourself in the clearance rack of a dusty Tuesday Morning. Soon, all of American is going to wake up and realize you’re nothing but a bully and a spy. The Benedict Arnold of the Holiday Season. Take my advice, stop. Hurl yourself up on the tallest shelf you can find and move. That’s it. No flying reindeer, no craptastic coordinating mittens and scarves, no mischief. Just move. Give families a reason to love you again.
Stick to the program. Because if not, I’ll put that stupid jersey on you right in front of my children. I’ll watch as your magic oozes out because you’ve been “touched” and they will no longer believe in your silly rules. So, find yourself a nice boutique, warm up some apple cider and smile.
Be smart, leave the propaganda to the pros, their parents and Walt Disney.