Chuck the Elf (A Holiday Tradition)

For a fourth year, I am honored to share a Christmas Story from my friend David. Prepare yourself for a real Christmas treat with this Holiday Classic! ~ Juliette

Chuck the Elf

By David X. Hunter

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 whiffed 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.”

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 pooped 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, Australia, England, and places I never hoid of, like ‘Canada’. 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?

The End

________________

 

For more works from David check out the links below:

http://bloggodavid.blogspot.ca/…/chuck-elf-by-davidus…

http://davidhuntershaw.blogspot.ca/
. . . . . . . ~© The Writer’s Den ©~ . . . . . . .
davidhuntershaw.blogspot.com

David’s work is also featured in WPaD Anthologies including:

The wonderful Holiday Anthology: Tinsel Tales

http://www.amazon.com/Tinsel-Tales-Holiday-Treasury-WPaD-ebook/dp/B00GGYN31C/ref=sr_1_6?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1449845666&sr=1-6&keywords=WPaD

 

Best Christmas Anthology EVER

Tinsel Tales

15350477_1262286167177497_920803303766804280_n

I love Chuck the Elf. Thank you David.

I love Chuck the Elf. Thank you David.

Chuck the Elf (A Holiday Tradition and The BEST Christmas Elf Story EVER)

For a third year, I am honored to share a Christmas Story from my friend David . Prepare yourself for a real Christmas treat with this Holiday Classic! ~ Juliette

 

Chuck the Elf

By Davidus Hunter

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 whiffed 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.”

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 pooped 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, Australia, England, and places I never hoid of, like ‘Canada’. 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?

The End

________________

 

For more works from David check out the links below:

http://bloggodavid.blogspot.ca/…/chuck-elf-by-davidus…

http://davidhuntershaw.blogspot.ca/
. . . . . . . ~© The Writer’s Den ©~ . . . . . . .
davidhuntershaw.blogspot.com

David’s work is also featured in WPaD Anthologies including:

For only .99 this month – Creepies 2

http://www.amazon.com/Creepies-Things-That-Bump-Closet-ebook/dp/B017AXQVDE/ref=sr_1_1?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1449845666&sr=1-1&keywords=WPaD

You can also find David’s work in the wonderful Holiday Anthology: Tinsel Tales

http://www.amazon.com/Tinsel-Tales-Holiday-Treasury-WPaD-ebook/dp/B00GGYN31C/ref=sr_1_6?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1449845666&sr=1-6&keywords=WPaD

 

Creepies 2 - Best Horror Anthology of 2015

Creepies 2 – Best Horror Anthology of 2015

 

 

 

Best Christmas Anthology EVER

Tinsel Tales

 

I love Chuck the Elf. Thank you David.

I love Chuck the Elf. Thank you David.

Creepies 2: Things That Go Bump in the Closet

Just in time for Halloween! I am proud to present:

12045509_932513166821467_8669853571417630582_o

 

Creepies 2: Things That Go Bump in the Closet

From the masters of horror at Writers, Poets and Deviants:
Prepare for terror…

  • An exterminator meets his match in a family’s attic…
  • A cuddly toy with a disturbing origin is all the rage…
  • A boy’s survival of a deadly accident turns out to be more curse than miracle…
  • A man asks a vampire for a favor and gets more than he wished for…
  • A strange device collects and stores the rage from people bent on revenge…
  • An exquisite chess set in an old pawn shop sets the scene for terror…
  • A young man’s WW2 bayonet carries an evil history…
  • Something is alive in the outhouse…

Enjoy these chilling tales and more in volume 2 of WPaD’s popular Creepies series.
But leave the lights on…

Featuring works from: Mandy White, Nathan Tackett, Marla Todd, Diana Garcia, Jade M Phillips, David Hunter, Michael Haberfelner, Mike Cooley, David W Stone, A K Wallace

Original Cover Art by Jason Kemp

 

Bela by Jason Kemp

Bela by Jason Kemp

Image courtesy of Illustrator/Author, J. Harrison Kemp, Tenkara Studios. All Rights Reserved. Permission Required.

Remember, as always, a percentage of the proceeds of our paperback anthologies and kindle books is donated to MS charities.

The authors write for the love of writing and to help an important cause. Also, because we love some our fellow authors afflicted with this disease very much!

 

Special note and appreciation and with a huge shout out, goes to the very talented illustrator and author, J. Harrison Kemp for his outstanding cover art. His intent was to give the anthology cover a comic book vibe and, I must say, he achieved that goal! You can learn more about him by clicking J. Harrison Kemp’s Facebook page——> Tenkara Studios

CLICK HERE for download (paperback edition coming soon)

Special thanks go to Mandy White and Val Fox for their hard work and long hours editing and putting this scary good publication together. THANK YOU SO MUCH.

Thank you Diana Garcia at zoltanaofthedesert.wordpress.com for the additional information.

Other WPaD Publications:

creepies

FREE right now. Take advantage of this offer and get your CREEPIES.

Fantastic stories with cover art by Jason Kemp

A hot book for cold winter nights. The ultimate in romance!

A hot book for cold winter nights. The ultimate in romance!

v_ndesires

1378486_560790237327097_1982820501_n

dragonsanddreams

 

Chuck the Elf (the Best X-Mas Elf Story EVER)

I am honored to share a Christmas Story from my friend David. Prepare yourself for a real Christmas treat with this new Holiday Classic! ~ Juliette

Chuck the Elf

By Davidus Hunter

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 whiffed 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.”

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 pooped 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, Australia, England, and places I never hoid of, like ‘Canada’. 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?

The End

________________

For more works from David check out the links below:

http://bloggodavid.blogspot.ca/…/chuck-elf-by-davidus…

http://davidhuntershaw.blogspot.ca/

A gift for you…V is for Valentine and Vampire…

V is for Vampire and Valentine so I’m giving you a FREE Romance Anthology of the best kind TODAY on February 14, 2013.

Vampire Heart

Finally a romance anthology that both MEN and WOMEN will enjoy!
Expect the unexpected….
FREE February 14, 2013 – A collection of short stories and poetry with a romantic theme: http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00B975O0O
I’ve read and re-read these stories and still can’t get over how good they are.

If you don’t get this for yourself get it for someone you love!

From moving and thought-provoking historic based romance stories, to modern life to science fiction, there is something for everyone. There are even a few of my Vampire stories in there.
Stories from both male and female writers. You’ll find humor, sorrow, you laugh out loud and you’ll cry.
Free download on February 14 – but if you buy it later part of the proceeds go to MS research.

Valentine special: Coupon code LVMFP7SA gives you $3 off the paperback edition of Passion’s Prisms, for those who prefer a ‘real’ book: https://www.createspace.com/4166436

Passion’s Prisms is a romance collection written by various authors:

Mandy White, J. Harrison Kemp, David W. Stone, Veronica Veil, Daniel E. Tanzo, Diana Garcia, Marla Todd, A.K. Wallace, Marie Frankson, David Hunter, Rob Betz, Michael Haberfelner, Suzanne Parlee, Anand Matthew, Juliette Kings.

Love can be many things.
For some, it’s sweet and sensual. For others, it’s tragic and painful. There are as many sides to love and romance as there are souls to experience them. Just as a prism transforms a beam of light into all the colors of the rainbow, love blooms to its full potential, taking on a different shade with every heart through which it passes.
The stories and poetry in this book are as diverse as their composers. You will find a bit of everything in here, from tenderness, sensuality and magic to the inevitable darker sides of romance – pain, tragedy and deceit.

We are WPaD (Writers, Poets and Deviants), a group of writers from all over the world who have come together to collaborate on a series of themed charity anthologies. A portion of royalties will be donated to Multiple Sclerosis research in support of a fellow writer who lives with MS.

Passion’s Prisms is our salute to romance, presented for your enjoyment.

Passion's Prisms

http://www.amazon.com/Passions-Prisms-Tales-Romance-ebook/dp/B00B975O0O/ref=sr_1_1?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1359741108&sr=1-1&keywords=Passion%27s+Prisms

I’ve re-read so many of these works, by both male and female authors (15 in all) and I’m still amazed at how absolutely wonderful these stories are. Had me laughing, crying and just giving out a romantic “sigh”.

 

And by the way, I’m not receiving any money from this…I’m just posting it because it is a REALLY REALLY REALLY GOOD ANTHOLOGY and it is for a good cause.

I hope you all live happily ever after. Hugs and kisses.
Juliette – aka Vampire Maman