Is That Santa Claus?
Nov 28, 2009 at 08:05AM Do Not Call
“Momma,” the little girl whispered, “that man looks like Santa.”
“Do you really think so?” the child’s mother asks as the two of then walk into the elevator I’m riding. “I think Santa’s older than him.”
“I think you’re right,” the little girl replies. “He doesn’t really look like Santa.”
What? I don’t? I don’t look like Santa? I only smile at the woman and her little girl. What now? What do I do? What do I say?
I’m spared any more need for direct and immediate actions by the opening of the elevator doors to the first floor where I get off but that is far from the end of my dilemma.
I guess I could try to pass, shave my now graying beard and try to look like other middle-age men, but that still wouldn’t change who I am. Sure, that might help me to get a better job, younger women, and more prestige in a world full of me-too people all striving to be like each other but I’d probably never fit in even if I looked the part.
You see, while it’s been apparent to those in the know for as long as I have walked this earth, I only recently learned the truth. You see, Billy Jones, truck driver, poet, author, self-proclaimed, Trademarked Poet Laureate of North America, and BloggingPoet, is in-fact: an elf. That’s right-- an elf.
No, I’m not a tiny little guy only a couple of feet tall who dresses in green and wears a pointy hat... not all elves look like that. As a matter of fact, most elves do not look the part of the classic Christmas Story elf. Most elves look like you and I. Me-- I’m 5’-9” 220 pounds, with long dark hair and a mostly gray beard-- more like Santa-- the head elf-- than the little green variety.
For those of us elves who don’t look the part, life is even tougher than it is for the little guys at the North Pole. You see, living outside the North Pole Commune as we do, forces us to deal with all sorts of stresses that those little guys never have to bear. We have more illnesses and shorter life spans than the little guys, and it’s rare that we manage to land a job that allows us to sing all day long... Being a truck driver by trade allows me an exception to the no singing on the job thing, but then there’s the stress of sharing the roads with all you humans-- a task too big for many elves.
I once asked Santa why it is that I had to go out into the world and not live the care-free, stress-free life of an elf in the commune? His reply, “Because you can and they can’t.” It took me a while but I finally figured out what he meant. Some of you will understand, some won’t.
You see, an elf is someone who wants to give back something to the world that the world never gave to him or her. Not that regular humans can’t desire the same thing, but for us elves it’s a far bigger issue that often leads to insanity and early death if not met early on. Elves are often writers, poets, artists, or musicians, though most learn it at an earlier age than did I. Me-- I’m lucky to have survived this long before learning just a few years ago that I am in-fact, an elf.
“How did it happen?” you ask. How did it come about that I didn’t know I was an elf? Well the fact is, it was a classic case of two babies being switched at birth. Happens all the time in the larger elf population living outside of the commune. Imagine the disappointment of the elf parents who watch their little child grow up without the qualities most often associated with being an elf. Imagine the shock and horror of human parents who watch their child begin to exhibit the many unusual behaviors of adolescent elves. Neither could be painted as a pretty picture.
Anyway, I hate to do it but I’ve got to cut you short. You see, Santa says he wants me to catch the Easter Bunny and escort him to the North Pole for a little man to man... er... I mean, man to bunny talk. That rabbit needs to learn a lesson or two. You see, Santa is pretty PO’d about that whole Easter egg tree thing that has been popping up the last few years. He said he’s considering a boycott of all the homes he sees with Easter egg trees in their front yards. If I were you, I’d be getting those eggs out of my trees ASAP. After all, you wouldn’t want to get put on Santa’s “National Do Not Call List.”
View Printer Friendly Version
Email Article to Friend
Reader Comments (6)
I think I'm a half-breed... or maybe that's giving me too much credit. Maybe I'm just a human with grandiose Elvin dreams? You however are most definitely an elf.
Erin,
While we've never met face to face I'm almost certain you're an elf too.
Or maybe Santa was switched with that guy who sells his art on the Elm Street sidewalk outside the cheesecake place?
You say it took you a long time to discover you are inf fact an Elf? Strange because I knew right off the first time I visited your site. Then when i saw your picture in the N&R riding your airplane bike my "knowing" was confirmed. You see, only an Elf would dare to ride an airplane bike! :) BB
Sometimes the obvious eludes us deluded elves. ;-)
2 Leggeds are lucky to have an Elf like you around :)