Had an interesting few days. Things are still mostly quiet but there have been busier moments. Last week I had an encounter with a manchild, just shy of 7ft. He was escorted by his carer. Mistletoe warned me about him as she’d met him the year before. “He’s got massive hands” she said, “make sure he doesn’t crush you”. I wasn’t too sure what to expect but upon entering the room I more than got her point. Stood before me was a lumbering and stacked giant with the mind of a child. He began to get giddy and tell me what he wanted for Christmas (a mobile phone and lots of CD’s, just in case you’re interested). When I asked him if he had been a good boy I couldn’t tell whether he was amused or agitated. He rocked his head from side-to-side as if drawing a figure 8. He clapped his huge, battering ram hands repeatedly and made a sound that I can only describe as ‘pigs fucking’. I told him if he promised to be good I’d make sure he had a good Christmas, and that I was happy to see him again because his visits always made my day. At this point the mammoth digits came out and tingled in anticipation. He wanted a handshake. I was scared it’d be a Lenny moment. My mind kept whispering “Tell me about the rabbits, George”. Would he crush my hand? The size difference was immense, much like the hand of a 7 year old in mine. I would wager they were at least 10 inches from base to tip. Worse still, he might want to stroke my beard and stroke and stroke until my head came off. As I reached my hand forward to touch his he gently shook my hand, smiled and waved me goodbye, and with that was gone. I was left intact.
One of the days began with the first child of the day literally shitting his nappy as he sat on my knee for a photo. Thankfully said nappy was sufficient enough to keep me clean, although the smell lingered. It’s easy to become immune to smells in that room because it’s so hot and enclosed that you begin not to notice as you have no perception of the air anywhere else. Thankfully this child has been my only shitter. I’ve avoided all forms of mess so far. I am overjoyed.
Many of the kids are terrified, as I have stated before. Amongst the many criers have been a couple of crazy cases. One kid today was so scared she stood at the entrance with her back to me, refused to turn around or even get her present, and then left by putting her back to the wall and slowly edging around the room to avoid me, as if she was walking on a high ledge.
Did I mention the kid who shouted and cursed at me and threw a present back in my face, before pointing and babbling something that I can only describe as sounding like black magic? I’m blaming him for the fact that a couple of days later I woke up at 3am and vomited repeatedly for the next 24 hours.
On remembrance day a highly decorated soldier decided to come in to have his photo taken. He was wearing his bearskin helmet and smart military dress gear and was escorted by his personal driver. He asked if he could sit on my knee. I politely told him no.
I said I’d mention Mistletoe. She is the supervisory elf and has worked for the company before, but at a different site. During the summer months her and her husband run fairground rides out on the coast. From what she’s been telling me the last few years have been difficult financially for them and they are barely making ends meet. Coupled with this she’s had at least one miscarriage and various other problems. Despite this she’s still incredibly positive and likeable, even if some of her opinions are quite ill-informed.
She’s currently saving money to send her daughter to Canada to visit her best friend who moved a couple of years ago. Her daughter is in her early teens and seems like a really decent kid. She gets bullied at school because she doesn’t dress in the latest fashions and because her parents are, I guess carnies, at least in the minds of the school kids. The love that family has for each other is awesome. They’re all so supportive of each other and their kid is so clued up on life for her age. I hope when she’s older things work out for her. I also learned a pretty interesting fact today. Mistletoe's great Grandfather was a famous magician who was the first man to perform the Indian Rope Trick to the Magic Circle after they stated it could never be done. There are all kinds of books written about him and such. His name was The Great Kirachi. Awesome.
I suppose some (most?) of you are wanting to know about the horny elf comment I made. On my day off last weekend I dropped by the grotto to check my hours for the following week. At the desk I saw a new face. It turned out she was the supervisor for another nearby grotto and was doing some training. She was also unquestionably a horny elf. She struck me as the sort of girl who cried until she got a pony, then took it to show all of the less fortunate kids and threw it away once she’d let everyone see how spoiled she was. She was loud and bossy and thought she was incredible. None of the other elves liked her. I would go so far as to say Tinsel and Snowdrop hate her. And snowdrop doesn’t do hate. As I talked to the supervisory elf about important Santa/Elf related matters she kept butting in and asking questions, whilst giving me puppy dog eyes and flaunting her chubbiness. I tried very much to ignore her because she was bugging me. I consider myself pretty easy going, but she was an arse. She wanted something, and that something was my dick. How do I know this? Because within earshot of my girlfriend she made a point, out of nowhere, I may add, of saying “you’re much cuter than the other Santa’s”.
Wow.
So things were a little awkward. I’m not sure if I’ll see her again but there’s a chance I’ll end up covering down where she works. If this happens I’ll let you know in minute detail how it turns out. Part of me wants to work with her again for kicks but the other part makes me think I’ll end up caving her head in with a giant Rudolph statue.
We also have a new elf. She is a student who has worked for the company before, but is only doing a handful of shifts. She’s called Magic and it is her 4th year in the grotto. Shame I won’t see much of her because she seems pretty good. And yes, she is relatively hot. We mostly talked about photography and religion. She’s a secular Jew.
Sapphire is coming out of her shell more and more. I learned today that she plays piano and that she likes sort of mainstream pop punk. We talked music for a bit and bonded. She told me about her favourite local venue. There are still some long, awkward silences but they’re improving.
Now the moment you’ve all been waiting for. Snowdrop. I hadn’t seen her for a few days but today we worked together. She was, as usual, all smiles and happiness. Using my amazing skills of deduction I check out her ass posture and figured she was a dancer. I asked her if she danced and she said yes, looking both shocked and flattered. She does ballroom and salsa and has done for 10 years or so. She sounds like she’s pretty good at it too. In the slow moments we took some building bricks from the shelf and made houses and castles out of them and she told me about the time she built a huge tower out of shot glasses in her previous job. At one moment during the day she stopped mid-sentence and began to splutter, turning read. “I just choked on my spit”, she said.
It dawned on me today that I’ve made Mrs Claus sound like a real bitch. Whenever I’m wasting time during photo printouts I tend to talk shit with the kids. If they’re old enough I’ll start spinning them tales about stuff, normally involving mince pies and how she doesn’t let me eat them and tells me I’m too fat, which is why I ask the kids to leave them out for me at Christmas. She also complains about the mess I make, complains about my stupid fat fingers when I press the wrong buttons on the toy making machines and she disciplines the naughty elves. That Mrs Claus, eh? What a fucking whore.
