“Who the hell are you?” You scream after walking in to your friend’s house. After being gone for literally ten minutes, some himbo is kneeling in front of the Christmas tree, a Santa Claus cap and red briefs being his only clothes. You were lucky enough to score housewatching your friend’s place in L.A. over Christmas, and you screw it up literally on Christmas Eve? Impressive.
“Shit! You were supposed to be gone for Christmas! Who are you?” You try to run to grab the housephone, only to see the himbo has it in his hand. You try to pull out your cell phone to call the cops, only to discover empty pockets. “Looking for this, friend?” The himbo gloats as he taunts you with your own cell in his other hand. “You might as well sit down, dude. I can’t just let ya leave.” He motions for you to sit across from him on the loveseat. You hesitantly comply, not knowing what this guy might have up his sleeve. “Well, Merry Christmas, I guess. Santa is gonna be pissed that I talked to a human, but oh well.”
“What do you mean, to a human? Santa? Are you drunk?” The himbo smiles and laughs.
“On Christmas spirits maybe, or it might have been the Cranberry Vodka earlier. But anyway, I’m an elf, you idiot. Haven’t you watched every Christmas movie ever?” You sit in your seat, dumbfounded by the strangeness and candor of this guy. Who the hell was he? Why was he in your friend’s house? “I thought that Elisa was out of the country for Christmas. Who are you?” he asks, clearly puzzled.
“Elisa went back to Tijuana until New Years. I’m just watching her place. Just let me go, man. I won’t tell anyone.” The elf smirks at you, amused by your whiny tone. He finishes touching up the tree, and fixing some ornaments, and plops himself down on the couch next to you.