Evil on a Shelf

In my household, the elf on the shelf was actually many elves on the tree that my parents had as Christmas ornaments that they bought when they were living in Germany. I hated these damn things because I thought at night they would jump off the tree and kill me. These were ugly things. 

Years later when my father told me a rat had used our entire family collection of ornaments less ones made of the least edible material, I was saddened that many memories were going through the digestive system of a plague carrying bastard. For some reason I felt compelled to find something hideous to put back on my parent's Christmas tree. EBay was my salvation and I found a thing that I knew would ignite fear into the souls of my sibling's children.

Well, apparently this has been going on for years and someone has decided put a cute story to many minions of Satan and call it Elf on the Shelf. What is next? Leprechaun under the sofa?

 

Yep, I'm more scared of Felty McEvil than Warwick Davis.

I can understand many of the mothers I am friends with on Facebook are delighted to take part in this whimsy for their children because the anticipation of a shit load of presents is never enough. I'm trying to figure out how much therapy my sister went through to think this was a tradition she wanted to start.

Seriously people. I know some are out there who agree that this thing is creepy. Other mothers have risen in solidarity and shouted they do not need to add another thing to the already long list of chores to do at the end of the year. All I know is, even though a frightening elf remains a staple in my parents' house, there is no way in the hell this thing came from one will enter mine.