Yes, I was an abused child during the holidays.
The method of torture was the ornament pictured here, and it caused me untold fear. Just look at its beady eyes, how they glare over the little “Noel” book! The black orbs follow you everywhere, and even when you’re elsewhere in the room, you can’t escape them.
The Horror! The Horror!
At least that’s what the imagination of a young boy dreamed up over so many Christmases in Ohio. The ornament is an antique, from my grandmother’s holiday trimmings. It sits in a red metal mesh wreath and glares terror from his perch on a pine cone stool.
It used to freak me out.
And so mom still puts it on the tree closest to where she knows I will likely sit, where the little elfin bastard can still terrorize me. This year, it sat at eye level next to the chair opposite where my mom usually sits.
The demonic elf has even traveled when we have Christmas in other places (but mom decided not to bring it to Egypt last year, for fear that if her luggage were lost the “fun” would be over).
So even though I don’t know where I’ll be next Christmas, chances are the evil elf will follow me. The abuse continues.