"I Couldn't Miss This One This Year"; December 23, 2002
Hey Everyone!
Just a quick note to wish you all a happy set of holidays of your choice.
For those of you who were looking forward to the annual "WCJ Holiday Special," I'm afraid you'll be disappointed--I will only be in Philadelphia for 25 hours this year.
I'll be busy Story-Editing at The Osbournes because nothing says Christmas like Ozzy Osbourne! (Actually, nothing says "Chrifffmffff" like Ozzy Osbourne, but let's not dwell on that.)
But not to worry--plans are in the works for a vacation/visit in March. So, clear the month!
In the meantime, what would a holiday episode of WCJ be without a Christmas story?
Lucky for you, I didn't write one. . .but everyone's pal Kevin Kibelstis did! And in the true spirit of the season, he is kind enough to share it with you in a special Holiday Edition of Kevin's Korner!
And so, without commercial interruption, I proudly present for
the first time
anywhere in print,
"Those Damned Elves"
By Kevin M. Kibelstis (© 2002)
Lucifer grumbled to himself, and turned his chair around to look out the window. His office sat on the thirteenth floor of One Dark Plaza, which was still a relatively new construction despite the boom in real estate that had occurred over the past few years. The walls were colored a muted gray, and cheating accountants waxed the marble floor once a week. A modest fireplace crackled across the way, and a small set of metal balls clinked together on his oaken desk.
By all accounts, he should be quite pleased. The holiday season was just around the corner, and that always brought a boost of bookings for swindlers and thieves. Murders and the good crimes always took a minor dip, but he could live with that. What he couldn't live with were the blinking, colored lights strung across the stalactites on the cavern's ceiling outside.
He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, spinning his chair back around again. His secretary set a mug of coffee down on his desk, and Lucifer quickly picked it up again and slipped a coaster beneath it. "That's real oak, Lilith," he said.
"Sir, did you see the lights?" she asked. She pushed her glasses back up on her nose, and shifted the folders she held from her right arm to her left.
"Yes, Lilith." He looked down at his tie to avoid meeting her eyes. For God's sake, he got some clam chowder on it at lunch.
"They're planning to put carrot noses on all of the stalagmites next. Sir, I can't emphasize enough how hard it is for the fiends to do their work with all of these distractions." She set a folder down on his desk. "Pain and suffering are down thirty percent. Eternal torment? Not that eternal anymore."
"What do you mean?"
"The elves are passing out candy canes."
"Candy canes?"
"Yup. And stockings." She set another folder down. "The people damned to walk on broken glass have started wearing the stockings. The souls destined to drown again and again until the end of time..."
"I'm afraid to know."
Another folder went down. "The wreathes the elves are giving out double as flotation devices. The foredemons are starting to call in sick, Sir. They don't know how to handle it. The elves are attaching the handbaskets to the roller skates and giving rides in them. How are people supposed to get here if they keep doing that?"
Lucifer rubbed at his forehead. A light tinkling rang out beyond the door to his office, and he looked up at Lilith. She grimaced. "They mentioned that they thought your office could use a little sprucing up."
"Sprucing up?"
She nodded as she turned to leave. "They'll be bringing in a Christmas tree this afternoon, Sir."
Lucifer tapped the tips of his fingers together as Michael settled into one of the chairs on the other side of the desk. He wore a black t-shirt that declared he hearted Christmas, and bits of holly stuck out of every pocketin his cargo shorts. His wings -- those big, ugly, white-feathered wings -- stretched out behind him. If he left so much as one feather behind when he left...
"G told me you had some problems down here," the angel said.
"You can say that. We're having an infestation of sorts."
"Of sorts?"
"Technically elves aren't classified as an infestation."
Michael smiled. "Who told you that?"
"The guys at Bob's Extermination. They seemed to think it was some big joke."
"No one takes you seriously when you call, do they?"
He shook his head. "No! I love how when someone gets a calling from God, it's a huge, enlightening experience. But if I call, I'm just a nut job getting his jollies." He waved it off. "I'll be seeing them in a few years anyway."
"So, the elves..."
"Yes! The elves. Apparently times have been rough at the North Pole and there have been a few layoffs."
"Not a surprise."
"Yeah, times are tough for everyone." Lucifer saw Michael look out the window, but the angel didn't say anything. They were always too nice like that. "Michael, we can't deal with them here. They're screwing everything up."
Michael sighed, and held his hands out helplessly. "I'm sorry, Luce. There's nothing we can do. Our wings are tied."
"What do you mean? You're always telling me how your enrollment has gone down in recent years. Doesn't that mean you have plenty of room for the elves? They don't take up that much space."
Michael made a clicking sound with his tongue. "Well, you're right in that enrollment has gone down. But there's a whole catch-22 with the elves." He turned around as one walked in with a stepladder and hung a wreath over Lucifer's fireplace. "How ya doing, Smelvin?"
"Good, Mike. How's G?" the elf asked in a high voice. The bells on his pointed hat tinkled as he turned his head, matching the bells on the tips of his floppy shoes.
"G-man is doing well, thanks." When the elf left, Michael turned back. "Where was I? Oh yes. See, the elves can't get into heaven. They're immortal. And you have to be dead to have the final judgment." His forehead wrinkled. "On top of that, I don't think they're even Christian."
Lucifer began to sputter. He felt an aneurysm coming on, and it would be his third since the elves arrived. Sometimes he wished for the sweet embrace of death, and not the kind the Grim Reaper gave out after drinking too much at office parties. "If they can't get into Heaven when they're alive, how did they get in here?"
Michael leaned forward, and lifted a finger. "Shopping malls."
Lucifer felt his jaw drop.
Michael lifted his shoulders. "Not our fault! People take their kids to see Santa in a shopping mall, get held up in line by an elf, and suddenly they're saying 'Damned Christmas elves!' or 'why don't those damned elves hurry up?' and stuff like that.
"The elves are damned, Lucifer. That's how they can get into hell. It's really unfortunate, but that's just the way it is."
Lucifer felt his bottom lip begin to quiver. "Then how do I get rid of them?"
Michael smirked. "Spread the word."
"What?"
The smirk became a smile. "Spread the word, my boy.
Listen, we've already gone over how our enrollment upstairs has
gone down these past few
years. Take a moment, and follow that line of thought out.
Religion takes a step down in importance, and suddenly the Holy
Days lose a little mystique. Look at the Annunciation or
Assumption. Can't even get people into church for them
anymore."
"One of them is in August, right?"
Michael nodded. "And you now know more than most Christians these days. The commercialization of Christmas has taken over. It's barely religious anymore. It's not about mangers, it's about toy store managers."
"How would that lead to the elves being laid off? Santa is all about commercialism. They should be hiring more if we go by what you just said."
Michael shook his head. "Santa isn't about religion, you're right about that. He's about magic. How else would he visit a kabillion houses in onenight? And because of all the commercial crap, and because Emmanuel is taking a backseat to E-mail, kids are quite cynical nowadays. They think Santa is a bunch ofbaloney, and because of that his workload has gone down."
Lucifer leaned back in his seat and thought for a moment. "So basically, and correct me if I'm wrong, you're saying that in order to get the elves out of here, I have to get their jobs back."
"Yes."
"And to do that, I have to put the magic back in Christmas."
Michael nodded.
"And that means teaching the people up there what Christmas is all about?"
Michael smiled.
"Jesus! What kind of pathetic holiday special do you think this is?"
Michael went serious. "This can't be a special. There aren't any skeevy marionettes involved."
Lucifer shuddered. Those marionettes in the old specials still spooked him to this day.
Lilith's voice came over his speakerphone. "I have Jesus on line one, Sir."
Lucifer groaned. He picked up his phone. "Sorry, Jesus. Just using your name in vain again. Lilith must have thought... yeah, okay. Peace out." As he set the receiver back down on the phone, he looked over Michael's shoulder. The door to his office swung open, and the scent of evergreen wafted into the room. Four tiny, high-pitched voices fought over the best way to get a tree through a door.
Michael chuckled.
"Isn't spreading the word your job?"
"Nope. Different department. You're thinking of Gabriel. He's the P.R. guy. But honestly, we're stretched thin as it is. I mean, if we could get the word out, then none of this would be happening, would it? Maybe a new perspective is all we need." He grinned. That annoying, room-brightening grin.
The elves finally got the tree through the door, and a rain shower of needles fell to the floor. "Where would you like us to put this, Mr. Satan, Sir?" one asked.
Lucifer began to answer, but Michael cut him off. "Don't go there, Luce. Besides, the joke is how an angel wound up on top of the tree."
Special thanks to Kevin Kibelstis for letting us print this hilarious story, and special thanks to all of you for making this a fantastic record-breaking year for WCJ!
Don't forget to vote for the name of my tattoo!
http://www.pond.com/~uhjeff/finalists.html
Winner will be announced in 2003!
Merry Christmas and Happy New Year to all!!
okbye
--Jeff (UHJeff@westcoastjeff.com)
