Sexy Santa and his nutcrunching elves: How the elves saved Christmas (revisited)

Since more than half of our readers discovered this blog less than five years ago I thought it would be nice to re-introduce some older stories for those who didn't catch them when they were first published. Enjoy!

Warning: Can contain traces of egg nog.

The North Pole lay quiet and still on this beautiful Christmas afternoon. Another business year for Santa and his little helpers had come to end, and all that was left after the letter reading, gift wrapping, sleigh riding, chimney jumping and stocking stuffing was the book keeping which – thank goodness – had been outsourced to the South Pole years ago.

The part time elves and guest workers had left their quarters and gone home (wherever that was) for a couple of months to come back when the 2013 season started. The workers’ houses were dark, only the headquarters were ablaze with light.

A dozen of senior elves had convened in the common room on the first floor. Each and every one of them was an experienced and stalwart fellow, having been in attendance for a couple of decades. They were a jolly bunch of slender, petite, gracefully built guys who looked as if they had just come of age even though they a lot older. That was one of the advantages of being an elf: The aging process stopped right after puberty. All of them were fair-haired, with blue eyes and delicate features. In any other world, they would have been subjected to name-calling and bullying for their sissy-like appearance. But here, they were the masters of a magical universe of enchantment and gaiety.

Their striking resemblance made them virtually indistinguishable – especially to the new Santa who kept confusing their names. Well, the new Santa wasn’t exactly new. This was his tenth season – but still, everything seemed new and exciting.

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