Todd E. Redsburg, Bad Elf

So, yeah, we got into this Elf on the Shelf craze a few years ago.  He's a nifty little point of interest round here.  The kids named him Todd E Redsburg, and I have no friggin clue why.  But he sits in various parts of the house and spends his days listening to the kids tattle on each other/plead their cases, and generally creeping me out.  I mean, look at this thing

Just kidding, that's Todd's cousin.  I think he must be a South Pole Elf.

"I will eat your heart."

So yeah, he watches EVERY FREAKIN MOVE I MAKE.

But, he's also good for late-night, insomnia-induced entertainment.

Crap.  Todd's on drugs again.

"My Worm of Underwordly Doom, Samson."

"Everyone Poops."

Todd, the bastard, eating all my anniversary chocolates.

Todd, the fire-assed demon, thinkin some fake flowers will make up for my chocolates.

And on Christmas Eve morning, it never fails--we ALWAYS find this little asshole behind the wheel of my car, with said car at the end of a long skid mark through the yard, parked cockeyed about 6 inches from the porch, with an empty bottle of alcoholic something in the floorboard.  I don't know why we let him come back every year, he is the worst holiday guest since Denis Leary.

But he IS really good about letting me blame him for stuff.  Never says a word, just sits there and takes it and  follows me with his evil, beady little eyes.

The Princess just came in, saying she had a horrible, horrible nightmare that our house was full of lots and lots of elves, of all different colors, covering everything.  Todd, YOU SUCK.