a pinch of homestead

Want to start from the beginning? Click here!

Listen, click play!

Pixie and Figgy landed outside the Smith’s home and pulled out the file they’d just received.

“Santa said this was an emergency case?” asked Figgy.

“Yes, he said he wanted us to make it top priority tonight so I asked Nim and Lil to cover the Haroldson’s,” said Pixie.

“Awe, that’s too bad,” said Figgy. “I was looking forward to that one.”

Pixie glanced at him. “You were?”

“Oh yeah! Pip said it was the parents who were the B.R.A.T.T.’s. It’s not every season an elf gets to pull pranks on the parents.”

“It’s not?” Pixie asked. “I mean, isn’t that what we normally do? Every season?”

Figgy contemplated that thought. “Oh, I guess you’re right. But still, it would have been fun.”

Pixie smiled, returning her attention to the file. “Ok, well, it’s not the kids who are a problem here either. It says here that Spunky has a little too much spunk. Let’s see…died toilet water green, well, that’s not too bad…then, shaving cream on faces…goldfish in beds, and…oh boy.”

“What?” asked Figgy.

Pixie cleared her throat. “Er…it seems as though Spunky has gotten himself in quite the bind. Here, look.”

Pixie handed him the folder and pointed to the paragraph she’d just read.

“Yikes!” exclaimed Figgy. “Do you think he really filled the parent’s bed with bed bugs? Real bed bugs?”

“Based on the complaint letter on the second page, I’d say it’s more than a possibility.”

Figgy flipped to the letter:

Santa, or whoever is in charge of this so-called elf,

Please consider this a formal complaint with a promise of legal action if this behavior does not change, and fast! We wrote complaints several times last season and were assured that Spunky’s behavior would improve this year. That there would be consequences for his seriously destructive shenanigans.

We thought we had made clear our indignation at the goldfish in the beds and the vinegar in the milk, but this is way beyond what we will tolerate. Our kids’ pleas are only reason we are giving him another chance. One more incident even remotely destructive, and you can expect to hear from our lawyers. Destruction of property is not mischievous, it’s illegal!

Sincerely angry and fed up,

Fred and Molly Smith

“Whoa,” said Figgy. “What can we do?”

“Let’s start by finding Spunky before he does any more damage.”

As it turned out, it was easy to find Spunky. They flew in to the kitchen and found him sitting in the refrigerator drinking maple syrup from a straw and looking downcast. 

“Hey there, Spunky,” said Figgy. “What’s wrong?”

“Oh. Hi.” He gave a heavy sigh.

“Figgy,” whispered Pixie. “Does he look…familiar?”

Figgy looked closer at Spunky and gasped. “You’re not, you can’t be related to—“.

“The Grinch?” asked Spunky. “Yes. I’m his second cousin. Twice removed.”

“Oh,” said Figgy.

“Yeah,” sighed Spunky. “When people look at me, they assume I’m just like him. But I’m not. I like Christmas. I just don’t understand why everyone can’t see that.”

“Spunky,” began Pixie. “Perhaps it’s the way you…express your, er, joy.”

Spunky looked at Pixie in confusion. “Huh?”

“Well,” she continued. “Most elves who like Christmas do things like, decorate with lights and tinsel. Not with spiders and bed bugs.”

Spunky looked unsure. “Really? But bed bugs are funny.”

“Not really,” said Figgy.

“The ones I know are. Amos told the funniest joke last night and Larry can do the best moth impression I’ve ever seen.”

“Um, that’s—what?” Pixie asked.

“Anyway,” said Figgy. “Let us help you find other ways to show your Christmas spirit. Ways that won’t get you relegated to Deer Dung Duty.”

“Ok,” said Spunky. “I guess I’m willing to try anything.”

Pixie and Figgy spent the next few hours creating a list of appropriate and approved Mischief Maker activities. When they were done, Spunky still looked skeptical, but was at least willing to give their way a try.

“You’re sure these mustaches will make them laugh?” he asked as he struggled to place a mustache on the cat. I mean, they didn’t laugh at the bed bugs, and those were hilarious.”

“Trust us,” said Pixie. “This is a classic.”

Spunky still looked uncertain, but Figgy’s smile and nod of encouragement seemed to settle his doubts.

“Bed bugs are funny?” Pixie shook her head as she and Figgy zoomed back to the North Pole. “And I thought I’d heard it all!”

Click here to start from the beginning!

Click play to listen instead!

“See,” Hinkle, Tommy’s elf, whispered. “This is what I deal with every night!”

Pixie, Figgy, Nim and Lil watched from the window sill as Tommy threw the worst temper tantrum anyone had ever seen.

Books went flying, stuffed animals lost their stuffing, and Tommy’s rage filled the small home.

“Certainly not every night?” said Nim.

“I’ve been trapped, drowned, kicked across the room and everything you can think of.”

“Kicked?” asked Figgy.

Hinkle nodded.

“Drowned?” gasped Lil.

Hinkle nodded.

“Trapped?” said Pixie.

“Yes,” said Hinkle. “And everything else you can think of. My magic has been restored so many times that Dr. Stuffins says I’m in danger of losing it completely.”

“Well,” said Nim. “Then this is Tommy’s very last chance.”

“Yes,” agreed Figgy. “One more mishap and he’s done. For good.”

Quickly, while Tommy’s mother was hauling a kicking and screaming boy off to bed, Hinkle led Pixie, Figgy, Nim, and Lil into the living room.

“How are we going to fix him?” Hinkle asked, wringing his hands.

Nim stretched his shoulders and cracked his knuckles. “Let’s do the old one-two strike.”

Lil nodded. “Yes! One, a song encouraging him to behave.”

“Two,” said Nim. “A stern warning about the repercussions if he doesn’t change his ways.”

Pixie and Figgy tried, very hard, not to roll their eyes and laugh. But…in the end, they lost the battle.

“What?” asked Nim and Lil.

“That may have worked back when you two were in the trenches,” said Pixie. “But the kids have changed. Threats no longer work.”

Figgy nodded. “Now, action is the only solution for this sort of atrocious behavior.”

“Geez,” said Nim. “It’s not like it’s been that long since we were in the field.”

“Yes.” Lil sounded hurt. “It’s only been a season or two, and we still come out to help. Like tonight.”

Cowed, Figgy and Pixie rushed to assure them. “Oh, that’s not what we meant! It’s just, I’m sure Hinkle has tried all of the old ways of improving behavior.”

“And,” added Figgy. “What we need is to try something new.”

Slightly mollified, Nim and Lil looked at Hinkle.

“Well,” he said. “Yes, I have tried the usual routes. A song. A poem. A letter to Santa. Their behavior may have improved slightly, but on the whole, nothing has changed.”

Pixie smiled. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking, Figgy?”

Figgy rubbed his hands together. “That we should freeze all of Tommy’s socks and underwear?”

“What?! No! I was thinking we should have a little sale.”

“Oh,” said Figgy. “Yes, I suppose that would work as well. Not quite as fun. But I’m sure it will do the job just the same.”

“Sale?” asked Nim. “What kind of sale?”

“A garage sale of sorts,” said Pixie.

“We’ll sticker all of Tommy’s toys and put them for sale in the living room.”

Pixie turned to Hinkle. “Does he have any favorite toys we should start with?”

Hinkle smiled slowly, and a little disturbingly. “Oh yes. We can start with his stuffed animal collection.”

Not quite liking Hinkle’s expression, Nim asked, “Why the animals?”

“They attacked me on the first night.”

“Come again?” said Lil.

“Tommy had them all in a net, and when I entered his room, they rained down on me like some plush, squishy rainstorm. It was terrifying.”

“Stuffed animals it is!” said Figgy.

Want to start from the beginning? Click here!

Listen, click play!

“I’m still not sure why you need me to come along as well,” grumbled Glitter as she followed Pixie and Figgy through the sky to their next assignment.

“We told you, Glitter,” said Pixie patiently. “We need you to carry the…equipment.”

“What ‘equipment’?” asked Glitter suspiciously.

“Oh, you know,” said Figgy. “The treats, snacks, prizes, shrinking machine. That sort of thing.”

“Oh balderdash. You two are perfectly capable of carrying—shrinking machine?”

A rather small, bedraggled looking elf popped his head around the window sill. “Hello.”

Glitter turned, startled, to face him.

“Hey, Fred,” said Pixie. “Are you ready?”

“Yep! I can’t wait to get started.”

“What,” asked Glitter. “Exactly, do we need a shrinking machine for?”

“Oh it was Figgy’s idea,” said Fred. “You see, Sam, my kid, has a big problem and shrinking is the perfect solution!”

Glitter’s eyebrows reached the sky.

“We’d better start at the beginning,” said Pixie, trying, and failing to stifle a laugh at Glitter’s expression.

“Oh,” said Fred nodding to Glitter. “Right. You’re new.”

“Excuse me?” said Glitter in icy tones. “I am not new, young elf. I’ve been at this for years!”

“Oh, I didn’t mean–. That is to say—.”

“It’s ok, Fred,” interrupted Figgy. “Glitter is just a little grumpy because we pulled her away from…what is it you are doing, Glitter? Closeted away with Mrs. C.?”

Glitter took a deep, calming breath. She straightened her hooves and shook out her antlers. “Ok. Tell me what is going on with this house and why, on earth, we need a shrinking machine.”

“Fred, go ahead,” urged Pixie.

Fred smiled. “Well, as I mentioned, Sam, my kid, has a big problem. He can’t seem to stop lying.”

“Lying?” Glitter asked. “About what?”

“Everything.”

Glitter glanced at Figgy and Pixie who nodded.

Fred continued. “Sam Finnegan has a lying problem. He lies to his parents about messes he makes. He lies to his teachers about homework he’s not done. He makes up fantastical stories about things that…never happened to him.”

“So,” Pixie jumped in. “We’ve decided that rather than punish him, we’ll give him fodder for stories.”

When Glitter did not look convinced, Figgy added. “We are hoping to turn his energy from lying to storytelling.”

“How is that different?” asked Glitter.

“Oh it’s very different,” said Pixie. “Lying is hurtful. Storytelling is entertaining.”

“We are giving him a creative outlet,” finished Fred.

Glitter slowly nodded. “It seems you’ve already come up with a plan, so what do you need me, and the shrinking machine for?”

“We need a list of story ideas for Sam and thought you would have some great prompts from your time at Reindeer Training Camp, and–.”

Glitter interrupted Figgy. “And you were hoping you could find out what I’ve been doing with Mrs. C?”

Figgy blushed. “Well. Yes. We were thinking you might confide in us if we got you away from the North Pole.”

Glitter shook her head and brayed. “Not going to happen, Figgy.”

Figgy and Pixie sighed.

“And, the shrinking machine?”

“Ah,” said Pixie. “That is for the first story prompt. Come on, let’s get inside.”

The elves and reindeer flew into the kitchen, landing lightly on the table. Pixie pulled a box of cookies from her bag while Figgy and Fred set the shrinking machine up.

“Ok, ready for the Christmas Magic!” said Fred.

The three elves worked together, sprinkling magical dust over the machine while Glitter jotted down several story prompts to leave with the cookies.

They hauled a cookie over and watched as it went in one side, a big cookie, and came out the other, a tiny cookie.

“It worked!” shouted Fred.

“Of course it did,” said Figgy. “We’re elves, Fred.”

Pixie giggled.

Glitter could not help but smile as well…until she noticed the time.

“Oh deer! I have to go!”

Without a backward glance, leaving papers flying in her wake, Glitter rushed out the window and flew into the stars.

Click here to start from the beginning!

Click play to listen instead!

“Oh Snowflake,” said Pixie. “Please calm down. We can’t help if we don’t know what’s wrong.”

“I-I-know, it’s just, just I have failed as an elf!”

“Is that possible?” Figgy asked Pixie in alarm. “To fail…as an elf?”

“No,” said Pixie firmly. “Of course not. Snowflake, calm down right now and tell us what your charge is up to that has you so upset.”

Snowflake took a deep, calming breath and began. “M-Marcus, m-my assigned child. He, well, he hates Christmas!” A wail like a siren erupted from the tiny elf while Pixie and Figgy stared in shock.

“Now do you think it’s possible to fail as an elf?” whispered Figgy.

After a moment’s pause, Pixie shook her head resolutely. “No. It is absolutely not possible to fail. Snowflake, tell us everything.”

Snowflake began her tale.

“This year is my first year with Marcus. My first year as a Mischief Maker. I was so excited that first night. I had so many plans for the season. But, when Marcus woke up on that first day, he didn’t even look for me. Just went straight to the TV with his bowl of cereal.”

Snowflake paused to blow her nose. She took another deep breath. “I decided to try harder to get his attention the next day so I used the old standby.”

“Ah,” said Figgy knowingly. “The old dye the milk green trick.”

Snowflake nodded. “But he just told his mom that the milk must have gone bad and poured the whole gallon down the drain!”

“Yikes,” said Pixie.

Snowflake nodded. “I thought maybe he didn’t understand, so I left The StoryBook on his bed for him to read.”

“That was a good idea,” said Figgy encouragingly.

“I thought so,” said Snowflake, her voice shaking. “But as soon as he read it, he-he put it on his night stand and used it as a coaster! Water rings ruined the cover and chocolate milk made the pages sticky!”

Pixie gasped. “Doesn’t he know how to treat a book!? Water rings never come out!”

“This is serious indeed!” said Figgy.

Snowflake took a deep, stuttering breath and went on. “Then, I made the biggest, most unforgiveable mistake.

Pixie and Figgy leaned forward, straining to hear the poor elf. “What did you do?”

“I noticed how much he enjoyed watching TV. Movies, shows, infomercials…anything really. He’d sit in front of the TV for hours. So…I thought that I could get his attention by hiding in front of the TV.”

“Uh-oh,” said Pixie.

Snowflake nodded. “As you can imagine, that did not go over well. Now, not only does Marcus hate Christmas, he’s very, very angry with m-m-m-meeeee!”

Snowflake fell to the ground, sobbing and wailing. Nothing Pixie and Figgy tried could calm her down, so they let her cry it out while they brainstormed what to do for Snowflake and Marcus.

“Snowflake,” Pixie said after she had calmed down a bit. “What is Marcus’ favorite thing to watch?”

Figgy looked sideways at Pixie. “What do you have in mind?”

“I’m just thinking, maybe we can somehow incorporate his love of TV into the Christmas season. Add some holiday dazzle to his favorite show.”

“Ooo, good idea Pixie!”

“I’m willing to try anything at this point,” said Snowflake.

“His favorite show?” prompted Pixie.

“I’m not sure what the name of it is…but there is a big, gross, ugly plant in it.”

Pixie’s brow wrinkled. “A plant?”

Figgy spun up in the air. “Does he have a friend named Seymour?”

Snowflake nodded. “And he always seems to be hungry.”

“Do you know it, Figgy?” asked Pixie.

“Oh yes I do! And I know just the scene we will re-enact! All we need are some big, ugly, sharp teeth and–Snowflake? Can you sing?”

Christmas tree, little tree a horrors
Christmas tree, comin’ out to get ya
Merry time. Little tree of horrors
No, oh, oh, no oh!

Ornaments, fallin’ down around you
Christmas lights, tangled all around you
Tinsel town. Little tree of horrors
No, oh, oh, no oh!

Click here to start from the beginning!

Click play to listen instead!

“And then, they made me a giant chocolate chip cookie with extra chocolate chips, sprinkles, honey and an entire bottle of Grade A maple syrup!” Winky was breathless with excitement. Her house was finally in order thanks to Pixie and Figgy’s hard work.

“That’s great, Winky!” said Figgy.

“We are so happy we could help!” said Pixie.

With a high five, Winky soared back into the night. Pixie and Figgy watched her sparkly trail loop through the sky with satisfied smiles.

Pixie turned at the sound of shuffling feet behind her. “Oh, hi there, Buster, Glitter. Are you ready to go?”

A tall, thin and rather bedraggled elf leaned heavily on Glitter. His exhausted face wore an uneasy expression.

Pixie and Figgy looked at Glitter, a question in their eyes.

“Buster is tired,” said Glitter, staggering a bit under the dead weight. “He’s been through a lot with his family.”

“What have they done to you, Buster?” asked Pixie, her eyes wide and sympathetic.

Figgy nodded, unable to speak at the site of this exhausted elf. They needed to hear what they were walking into. The file didn’t say much. In fact, it was empty save for a few illegible scribbles and what looked like dried on drool.

Quietly, barely above a whisper, Buster began his tale.

“For a few days last season, things were going very well. The three boys seemed to enjoy my tricks and gifts. They looked forward to them every day. But then, I guess they got—yawn—bored. Or something.”

For a moment, it appeared as though Buster had fallen asleep. Glitter stomped a hoof, waking him out of his slumber.

“Oh, yes. Where was I?” Buster asked, confused.

Figgy glanced at Pixie who shook her head in befuddlement.

“What happened next?” asked Figgy.

“Well, they started behaving very badly to their parents. Small things at first. A glass of spilled milk here. A messy room there. You know, kid stuff. But then…”.

“Yes?” asked Pixie.

“Then—yawn—they started to…escalate their bad behavior.” Buster looked at them meaningfully. They looked at him in confusion.

“You know, doing really bad things.”

“Like what?” whispered Figgy.

“First, they stuffed a bunch of animals in the dryer.”

“WHAT?!” Figgy and Pixie exclaimed at once.

“Yes, I know,” Buster nodded. “The lint trap was such a mess.”

Figgy and Pixie stared open-mouthed at Buster. How could he be so calm about this?

Glitter cleared her throat. “Buster, you left out an important point. The animals were stuffed animals. Toys, not actual pets.”

Pixie and Figgy sagged against each other, relieved.

“Oh, yes. Sorry. I should have led with that.”

“Yes, you should have,” said Pixie, shaking her head.

“What else, Buster?” asked Figgy.

“This season, they’ve started to pick me up and play with me,” said Buster. “I know it’s early in the season, but it took me all year to recover from their treatment, and three days of this has really taken its toll. I’m exhausted.”

Pixie and Figgy could tell that by his slumped posture, baggy eyes and glazed expression. He couldn’t take much more of this and they knew it.

“Ok, Buster.” Pixie stood. “I have a plan.”

Hauling Buster on her back, Glitter followed Pixie and Figgy through the sky and landed on the Baker’s lawn. Buster tumbled to the snowy ground and promptly started to snore.

“Well,” said Figgy. “I guess he won’t be much help tonight. What’s the plan, Pixie?”

“Let’s get him inside first. Then I’ll fill you in.”

“Flibberty gibbit? Hessle-torp fish-fash,” Buster mumbled as Glitter once again hauled him through the air.

Once the elves and Glitter had settled Buster on the couch, Pixie pulled “The Tin” out.

“Oh,” said Figgy. “The Emergency Googly Eyes. Are you sure this is wise? Once we googly, there’s no going back.”

Glitter huffed and looked at the sky. “If we are going to do this, we should get a move on. I need to get back to Mrs. C.”

“Glitter,” said Figgy suspiciously. “What are you and Mrs. C. up to?”

Buster sat up suddenly and shouted. “Froshty mer moman!”

“Never mind that,” said Pixie. “Let’s get all the eyes in place.”

Whirling around the room, Pixie, Figgy and Glitter put googly eyes on anything with a face. Pictures, stuffed animals, bananas, oranges, the microwave, and finally, themselves.

“And, we’ll wear these as well as a finishing touch.” Pixie pasted angry eyebrows on Figgy and Buster. “There! Places everyone!”

Oh you’d better watch out
You’d better not cry
You’d better not step a toe out of line
Angry elves are coming to you

We’ll watch you when you’re sleeping
We’ll stare at you for days
We’ll pop up where you least expect
So mend your naughty ways

So listen up now
Your chances are few
Touch Buster again and he will be through
Angry elves are coming to you