Tinsel and Yule
By Rob Rosen
Tinsel sat on his work bench and sighed, the yo-yo no nearer to completion than it had been an hour earlier, the shop foreman riding his ass like a thong that was two sizes too small—and, yes, elves do indeed wear thongs, which is in fact Victoria’s best-kept secret.
“Get a move-on, Tinsel. Christmas is just around the corner,” he was told, yet again, for the third time that morning.
But Tinsel’s heart simply wasn’t in it. Actually, it hadn’t been in it for a very long time indeed. “Boring yo-yo. Same thing every year. Toys for all the good little boys and girls, and all I get in return is a couple of blisters and a stocking stuffed with fruit. Not even a kiss under the mistletoe.” He stared up, longingly, the mistletoe hanging in the same spot as last year
