“Look, Mommy!” she cries right in my fucking ear, jerking me out of a sound sleep. “Jingles came back again!”
I have no idea what she’s talking about, for a second I can’t remember what the fuck a Jingles is, but as I reach for my phone to see what ungodly hour of the morning it is I freeze.
Sitting next to my iPhone is that fucking thing. The elf in all white. The screen of my phone is utterly destroyed, a shattered mess.
Jingles is holding a hammer. He’s smirking.
Ava is in her room crying. I gave her bottom a good whack after finding out that she’d broken my phone to get back at me for throwing Jingles away. She insists it wasn’t her but if the little shit is stealing — because that’s what this has to be, she had to have stolen the elf and the doll and when I got rid of her new friend she broke my phone.
I should’ve seen this coming, I guess. She’s been whining about how all the other kids in class have an Elf On The Shelf and I ignored it. After her dad left she started acting out but it was always in little ways, not eating her dinner or trying to sneak into my bed at night.
Sarah Screams is on the high shelf in the hall closet and Jingles is in the dumpster behind Target. I did the rest of my Christmas shopping but I went fairly light on the presents and like hell was I going to get another elf.
I’m drinking wine and distracting myself with Christmas movies. I’m trying to figure out how I’m going to afford another phone, the holiday has my savings pretty much wiped out. Maybe after Christmas I can get a burner or something to hold me over until I’m eligible for an upgrade.
Fucking Elf On The Shelf.
For a moment, I think I hear tapping on the window, but it’s probably just the wine. Or the wind.