Read an Excerpt
Two small elves stood in line behind the red ropes outside Dunker’s Donuts on Fifth Avenue in Brooklyn. This was not as completely crazy as it might sound, because there was also a sign in the Dunker’s Donuts window that read:
The two elves stood in line with the rest of the moms and dads and babies and kids waiting to tell Santa what they really wanted. The two elves wore those green elf outfits you’ve seen in cartoons and movies and cookie commercials.
But the strange thing about these two elves was that one of them wore soccer cleats and the other one wore a SpongeBob SquarePants backpack . . . that was carrying another tiny, hamster-size elf.
“What are you going to ask Santa to bring you, Chelsea?” the mom in front of the elves asked her daughter.
“A pony,” said Chelsea, kicking her little brother.
“Oooooh,” said the SpongeBob-backpack elf. “More flavor! I’m going to add a pony to our list.”
“We are already asking Santa for one hundred more ,” said soccer-cleats elf. “Can he also fit two ponies in his flying-sled delivery system?”
“Eeek squeak squeak eeek,” said hamster elf. “Squeee week wee eek.”
“Great whole-grain jingle bells!” said soccer-cleats elf. “This Santa Claus is super-size and great taste!”
“Eee eee eee eeek?” asked hamster elf.
“Yes,” said backpack elf. “That is a most extra-crunchy idea. I will send a visual image of us to Michael K. and Venus.”
“Ho, ho, ho,” said the suspiciously skinny-looking Santa in the Holidayz HoHoHoles Korner of the Dunker’s Donuts. “I don’t think Santa will be able to get you a real F-18 Hornet fighter jet.”
The little boy in Santa’s lap punched Santa in his red velvet stomach and pulled Santa’s white beard down under his chin. “You are a stupid Santa.”
The backpack elf held a camera out at arm’s length.
“Squeeek,” said the hamster elf.
The elves twisted their faces into something like smiles.
The hamster elf nodded.
The camera took a picture.
“Come on, Jackson,” said the little boy’s mom. “We will go talk to Santa’s manager about this.”
The dad took Jackson’s hand and glared at Santa. “I can’t believe I had to buy a dozen Holidayz HoHoHoles for this. All you had to do was say ‘Okay.’”
“I could look into procurement of the F-18,” said Santa, replacing his beard and fixing his stomach. “But I am pretty sure it is not in line with federal procedure to release these fighter jets to citizens.”
The dad stared at Santa.
“There would also be a lot of paperwork. But maybe the older model F-111 might be available?”
Now both the mom and the dad were staring at Santa.
Santa realized he had almost forgotten to say the required Dunker’s Holiday Saying. He added, “Ho, ho, ho. Dunker’s knows what dunkers love.”
The mom and dad and punching kid stormed over to talk to the manager.
The line and the elves moved three steps closer to Santa.
Hamster elf sent off the picture and text.
“Eeee eee, eee eee.”
“CLINICALLY PROVEN SAFE AND EFFECTIVE ,” added backpack elf. “Michael K. and Venus are going to be sooooo surprised!”
© 2011 Shane Prigmore