Man hypnotizes twelve women to be his sexy, Christmas elves.
"You better watch out, you better not cry, better not pout, I'm telling you why, Santa Claus is coming to town." Bob sang with the music on the radio. He drove with one hand and sang into a make believe microphone with his other hand.
"Turn that shit off," said Stuart reaching over to push the car radio off button. His temperament changed the mood in the car from Christmassy to icy.
"Gees, Stu, chill. I happen to like that song," said Bob. "It reminds me of when I was a kid and it puts me in the mood for Christmas. My Mom used to--"
"Yeah, well, my Mom used to play that song, too. I hate that damn song," said Stuart glaring over at his friend. "It makes my skin crawl." If looks could kill, Bob would be dead.
"Where's your Christmas spirit?" Bob looked at his stern, stiff friend.
"Where's my Christmas spirit? Ha! Bah humbug! My Mom ruined my Christmas spirit long ago." Stuart's face reddened and his lip stiffened, whenever he talked about his mother.
"Yeah, I remember your mother. She was pretty horrible, wasn't she?"
"Don't you ever say anything bad about my mother," he said pointing a finger at Bob's face in the way he'd point a gun. "I love my mother. I worship the ground she walked on."
"Sorry, Stu. Take it easy. I didn't mean anything by that remark. You talk about her, as if she's still alive," said Bob looking at his friend with concern. "I was just commenting on how terribly she treated you. I'm sure your Mom was a wonderful woman, really."
"Yeah, well, that's all in the past now," said Stu. "That part of my life is over," he said staring out the windshield.
The silence between the two men grew more uncomfortable.
"Let me turn the radio back on to give you some Christmas spirit," said Bob. "This is their commercial free Christmas Carol hour."
"No! No radio," said Stu still tense and raising his voice, while looking over at his friend.
"I'm only trying to give you a little Christmas spirit, Stu."
"Christmas spirit? You give me Christmas spirit? Do you wanna see my Christmas spirit?"
"Yeah, actually, Stu, I would like to see you participate more in the mood of Christmas."
"I'll show you my Christmas spirit in the flesh. You'll be shocked by how much Christmas spirit I have," he said mumbling, as if talking to himself, before he started laughing and showing his friend how truly crazy he was.
"I think a little Christmas festivity would do you some good. I think you need some Christmas spirit to relax. You're a bit tense," leaning away from Stu's stare. If he wasn't trapped in a car with him, Bob, no doubt, would be taking a step back and making an excuse to leave.
"Then, bang a u-turn and go back to my house," said Stuart. "Even though Christmas is my least favorite holiday, I'll show you some real Christmas spirit that will make your eyeballs fall out of your head."
"Go back to your house? Seriously? You're kidding, right?" Bob looked at his friend with wide eyed amazement mixed with skepticism. "I'm finally gonna see the inside of your house?"
"Yeah, so? What's the big deal?"
"What's the big deal? Are you kidding me?" Bob laughed. "How long have we been friends?"
"I dunno, fifteen years?"
"Right. We've been friends for fifteen years. How many work days is that?"
"Work days? I have no idea? Have you been drinking, Bob?"
"Me drink and drive? Never. I haven't had a drop. My point is, we've been friends since 1995 and I drive you to work and home every day. Let's see, 15 years, 5 days a week, that's 3,600 trips driving you to work and back."
"So, what's your point, Bob? I pay your gas, don't I?"
"Yes, you do pay for my gas, Stu, but my point is not once, in fifteen years, have you invited me inside your house," said Bob with a laugh. "Not once. Not ever. Never did I ever even get an invitation from you for me to decline to come inside your house. Not once did you say, thanks for the ride, Bob. Wanna come inside for a cold beer?"
"Gees, Bob, you live next door. What's the big deal? We have the exact same frigging style and shape house. All the houses on our block are the same. If you've seen one house, you've seen them all."
"That's not the point, Stu. You hurt my feelings by not being more friendly and neighborly. Sometimes I think you don't have a shred of commonsense and common courtesy to ask a friend in--"
"Yeah, well, I'm inviting you inside my house now," said Stuart glaring at his friend. "Okay? So, let's just drop the sensitivity act and drive me home, so that I can show you my Christmas spirit and shut you up about that, too."
"I don't believe it and all it took was for you to hear that damn Christmas song, Santa Claus Is Coming To Town for me to get an invitation," said Bob shaking his head. "If I had known you'd invite me in your house by playing that song, I would have played that song a long time ago," he said with a laugh.
"Listen, Bob, it wasn't that I didn't want to invite you inside my house. I thought about inviting you inside plenty of times, but I couldn't," said Stuart with an apologetic look. "I'm sorry."
"You couldn't? Why?" Bob looked at his friend with insight and compassion. "Listen, after Susan died, I'm a bachelor, too. I don't hardly keep up the house in the way she did. I have dirty laundry piled up and the sink is filled with--"
"No, that's not it. My house is spotless, immaculately clean. You could eat off the floor," he said looking at Bob. "I couldn't invite you inside my house before because..." Stuart looked off through the windshield, as if he was a thousand miles away.
"Because why, Stu? I don't get it. Why in fifteen years, haven't you invited me inside your house."
"I couldn't invite you in my house before because of the elves."
"Elves?" Bob looked at his friend with a nervous laugh. "It's a little early in the morning for you to be drinking, isn't it, Stu?" Bob laughed, "Elves? You think you have elves? With you seeing things, namely elves, it's a good thing I'm driving and you're not," said Bob with a nervous laugh.
"You know I don't drive, Bob," said Stu, "which is why I have you for a friend," he said with a sinister laugh. "You have a nice, new car and I really like your new car, Bob," he said running his hand over the dashboard, as if it was his car. "And I'm not having hallucinations. I really do have elves, twelve of them: Donna, Christine, Priscilla, Cynthia, Joanne, Naomi, Rosemary, June, Connie, Andrea, Stephanie, and Veronica, and they all are very beautiful."
"You're making this shit up," said Bob laughing. "You expect me to believe that you have twelve beautiful, female elves living with you?
"Well, they're not really elves in the sense that you think of elves, Santa's little helpers, but to me they are my beautiful, sexy, sexual, and sensual Christmas elves."
"Now I know you're pulling my leg. What do you have twelve stuffed animals, or dolls, or posters of women that you named," said Bob staring over at his friend. "Is that it?"
"I have elves, as we speak, in my house, twelve of them."
"I don't believe you."
"See for yourself, Bob," said Stu.
Bob pulled in the driveway and both men got out of the car and walked up on the front porch to the front door. This is the first time that Bob had even been on Stuart's front porch. As if walking in a meat locker and being blasted with cold air, as soon as Stuart unlocked and opened his heavily insulated and soundproofed front door, a familiar song emanated from the house.
"You better watch out, you better not cry, better not pout, I'm telling you why. Santa Claus is coming to town. He's making a list and checking it twice; gonna find out who's naughty and nice. Santa Claus is coming to town. He sees you when you're sleeping. He knows when you're awake. He knows if you've been bad or good, so be good for goodness sake! O! You better watch out! You better not cry, better not pout, I'm telling you why. Santa Claus is coming to town."
As if a 33rpm speed record played at 45rpm speed, the song played over and again, at a faster and a more annoying speed. The song sounded as if it was being sung by Alvin and the Chipmunks.
"Gees, Bob, the music is a little annoyingly loud, isn't it? Now I know why you hate this song. I'd hate it, too," said Bob covering his ears, while raising his voice to talk over the music. "Why do you have music playing, when there's no one home?"
"My elves are home. The music plays for them."
"Why do you have all the windows covered over with black paper and what's that bright strobe light? It hurts my eyes and gives me a headache," said Bob cringing, talking loudly, and still covering his ears. "I feel as if I'm in a Twilight Zone disco."
"Twilight Zone disco," said Stu with a laugh. "That's funny, Bob. You're a funny guy. The windows are covered to protect my privacy from my nosy neighbor, namely, you, Bob. The strobe light is one of my tools that I use to control my elves."
Stuart turned down the music, but didn't turn it off. He never turned it off. That one record played twenty-four hours, seven days a week. He had a dozen records of that same song, just in case anything happened to the record, along with two other turntables and receivers, should anything happen to his stereo. He even had an auxiliary power generator that instantly took over, much like a battery backup, should he lose power. Even though Stuart was never a Boy Scout, he was prepared.
Suddenly, a dozen women, all races and sizes, and all very good looking came rushing in the reception hall from every door to greet their master. As if just having returned from the beauty parlor, their makeup was perfectly applied and their hair was arranged just so. Even though they all wore the same elf costume, they all wore it differently to flatter their assets. Showing a lot of leg, ass, and cleavage, they all stood in a long line together, as if ready for Stuart's inspection and approval. In essence, they more looked like a Christmas photo of the twelve monthly Playboy playmates than they did Christmas elves.
"Welcome home, Master," they all said in unison. Beaming with enthusiasm, happy to see their master, they were all smiling wildly and they all focused their attention on Stuart.
They were all wearing abbreviated elf costumes of red and green velvet that left little to the imagination. Their breasts overflowed their tops and the roundness of their butts peeked below their short shorts. Looking so much like the Rockettes, what they wore so revealed nearly all that was beneath the costume, that any man who saw them standing there would surely have an erection and so did Bob.
