Jobless Masses You, the jobless masses are the scum of the earth The disease of life The losers that roam the streets in perpetual hopelessness Depressive, downtrodden, delusional, destitute Why not kill yourselves? Life would be so much easier No more hanging out at the local Tim Hortons Staring into the oblivion of your stale coffee No more asking for change on the frigid streets, bumming a cigarette No more harassing the good, hardworking people of society No more taking advantage of those who deserved to get where they are No more Airbnb-ing the local library If only street cleaners could brush you up off the sides of the streets along with all the other discarded trash If only you were jailed or shot for being a bane on the rest of us Stop bothering us! Leave us alone! Go get a job! Go shave that disgusting beard! Go take a shower! Go write a resume! Just leave me the fuck alone! You’re the acne on a flawless face The scar on a perfect body The blemish on pristine skin The callouses on soft hands The dirt under our fingernails The open sore on an infected wound The herpes, syphilis and gonorrhea of the city The waste running through the sewers These thoughts enter my mind vicariously As I look at the busy masses walking by And I wonder When will someone notice?
Franky The Christmas Elf
A “Short” Christmas Story
by Cameron Brtnik
Franky wasn’t like the other elves: joyful, happy, full of “Christmas spirit” all year round. He was more of a realist, and had a sense of how the world really was – apathetic and uncaring. Even if you dedicated your whole life to giving and helping others, the world owed you nothing. It was a cruel, unforgiving world that didn’t care if your were good or bad, naughty or nice.
He didn’t mind his job; making toys was a decent gig these days considering most of the assembly lines were automated now, putting thirty percent of elves out on the snow. And he was proud to say he was pretty good at it. Franky had come from a long line of toy makers – from his great-great-elf father all the way down to his father – and now him. He learned the art of toy making from his father who was, at one time, Santa’s right-hand elf. But Franky didn’t share the same fondness for the fat guy. Sure it was true – Santa was a kind, old, jolly man the same way he’d been portrayed in Christmas movies, greeting cards and shopping malls. But the big guy just wouldn’t update, get with the times, still stuck in the glory days of old when toys were still appreciated by kids around the world. Now you could simply download Elf Run on your smartphone for free. Who needs toys anymore? Franky wondered out loud as he put the finishing touches on a train set for Timmy (he knew for a fact Timmy had been a naughty boy this year, but Santa would nonetheless fly down his chimney and stick the train set wrapped in blue wrapping paper – blue for trains, red for trucks – under the undeserving little shit’s tree). Santa always repeated the same mantra which, behind his back, we called a Santra: “All children, naughty or nice, deserve a gift on Christmas morning. Only in this way can we teach the true meaning of Christmas,” followed by the mandatory, “Ho Ho Ho!” I didn’t buy it. How does giving a gift to a rotten child like Timmy teach him anything except that he can get away with murder and be rewarded for it? I knew it was a futile argument to have with the jolly guy, plus it’s never a good idea to argue with your boss.
It was two o’clock – three hours till work ended – and Franky was getting his usual wave of itis (he overdid it on the roast reindeer at lunch) so he went to the elf-room to do a line of snow. This always put some pep in his step, and he went back to the assembly line full of renewed energy. He was pumping out train sets double-time now, and realized he’d finish early today; he could finally catch up on Season 3 of Breaking Toys. As Franky went to clock out he ran into the merry man himself. “Ho Ho Ho, hello Franky! Clocking out early, I see?,” he said with just a hint of suspicion. “Um, yes sir, I finished my work early today…” He was hoping Santa didn’t notice his nervous facial twitch that always manifested after a line or two of quality snow. “Ho Ho Ho, good work! You are a hardworking little elf, just like your father.” Then another, even louder (if unnecessary) “Ho Ho Ho!” Franky smiled and quickly made his way out the back door.
On his way home Franky ran into Susie, a sexy little elf he’d been checking out since she’d started a month ago. She was the new secretary. “Hiii Frankyyy,” she purred innocently, her cheeks blushing scarlet red against her angelic white skin. He could tell she liked him, but Franky wasn’t sure if he should pursue her or not. She was still an elfin (or virgin in humanspeak) as far as he could tell, and so much more attractive than all the other slutty elves who worked at the shop. She smiled her bright, snow white smile and he felt himself melting into his boots. “Where are you off to so early?,” she teasingly interrogated. “Um, I finished my work early so I was just gonna catch up on some Elflix.” “Ooh Elflix and chill…I’d be down to join, if you don’t mind.” “Uh, I just wanted to go home and relax. Maybe another time?” Fuck, he thought. “Looking forward to ‘Elflix and chilling’ with you Franky,” and she winked and skipped back to the shop. Franky knew he’d have to stripe the ol’ candy cane when he got back home.
The next day at the shop was like any other. Jack got in shit for using superglue instead of wood glue, and the wings of his airplanes kept falling off. He was sent home for a week with no play. There were only ten days left till Christmas and production had ramped up to full speed! Most elves were working double shifts, and some even pulled all-nighters meeting their quotas of train sets, teddy bears, Barbies, snowboards and board games (Candy Canes & Liquorice was Franky’s favourite as a kid, a Shoots & Ladders knockoff). He heard Santa had finally opened a smartphone division, but that he had built the assembly line out in the East Pole because of the cheaper labor. He also heard the conditions there weren’t cold enough, and the elves were overworked and under-played. It was run by relentless managers, and one guy even attempted elficide but was saved by a hammock they had hung outside the window (apparently it had happened before). It may not be perfect but Santa treats his elves pretty well, Franky thought. Plus he received a good elf plan.
…sprawled out on his polar bear rug, her glistening white skin hot by the crackling fire posing for an elfie, her perky breasts innocently exposed through her green, furry blouse, her long legs stretched out and her delicate hand placed on her thigh, arched high enough to just cover her trimmed…
“Franky!” He heard a voice snap him back to life. “Looks like you didn’t show up for work today, he he he. Wanna join us for lunch?” It was Carl. What a way to end his daytime fantasy. “Um, yeah, I guess.” What he really wanted though was to sit with Susie. “The roast reindeer with a side of baby carrots, please.” Franky usually had the same thing. It was either that or the vegetarian option (Gross! Franky never ate the cold dogs either – he heard they used all parts of the reindeer to make them). He sat with Carl and the rest of the gang, shooting the shit, with the usual gossip: Who’s fallen behind on their quota, who’s dating who, Santa’s tour route this year, the usual dull conversations that made Franky wish he could ride away on Santa’s sleigh and never return to this dull little town in the North Pole. But then, Susie…
…There was red splashed everywhere: red on white. The reindeers shuffled in their reins. Santa lay motionless in his suit, tuffs of his beard speckled with his own blood. The last thing Franky and the reindeer heard was Santa’s bells hitting the ground, and one final “Ho” escaping his rouge, pouty lips. Franky looked down and didn’t recognize his own hands holding the bloody snowbar. Franky realized something: He’d killed Santa…
After lunch, Franky was on his way back to the shop when he noticed Santa out in the shed feeding the reindeer. He walked over and said, “Hey Santa, hows’s, um, it going?” “Ho ho ho Franky, no need to be shy around me. You know, your father was always my right-hand elf before he became ill, and I fully expect you to take over his post one day. Now, come help me feed the reindeer, Ho Ho Ho!” Suddenly Franky’s vision went blurry, he felt dizzy and he blacked out… When he finally came too, he jumped back… There was red splashed everywhere…
Franky found himself staring up at the giant sleigh. It looked empty and ominous. A void Santa’s corpse left, would leave, Franky realized, for eternity. He also immediately realized someone would have to take his place. Without a third thought, he threw the snowbar in the back of the sleigh, climbed up the stairs and sat in Santa’s seat. He must’ve looked like a child in the driver’s seat of a car. He reached for the reigns and thought they felt quite heavy; it took all of his elf strength to lift them. Prancer – or Dancer, he could never tell the difference – shuffled his hooves impatiently. Franky looked behind him: Santa’s sack full to the brim with toys that he had made: trucks and train sets, doll houses and dinosaurs, robots and radio controlled cars – who would deliver them all? He would, he thought. To all the good girls and boys. What about the bad ones? Santa would have delivered toys to every girl and boy, naughty or nice, good or bad. But Santa wasn’t here anymore, Franky reminded himself. Santa was laying stiff in the snow: he was reindeer food. Which reminded him, he’d have to find food for the reindeers. What did they eat again? Carrots, apples, bird eggs…and something for the naughty kids. He suddenly had some ideas.
…Franky had spent the day looking for things for the bad girls and boys to fill Santa’s sleigh with. He looked everywhere: the shed, the toy shop, and even visited the city dump. There he found treasures: gifts for all ages, and the perfect stocking stuffers. He spent all night carefully wrapping them in the shop; no one noticed the light on. When he finished, he never felt more satisfied with his work. He pictured all the little brats waking up excited, running down to their sparkling tree, only to be disappointed once they opened their gifts. “This year you’ll get what you deserve,” Franky said to himself.
Franky was on his way back from the shed with a bucket of carrots and fresh chicken eggs to feed the reindeer with when he ran into Susie who just finished work. “Hiii Franky!” she said in that sultry voice of hers, a voice that could melt snow. “Oh hi Susie, how was, um, work?” “Franky, are you okay? You look, um, a little pale.” “I’m fine! I’m, uh, just feeding the reindeer.” “Oh, can I help?” Franky felt his little heart beating out of his chest. He hoped the fresh powder snow had covered Santa’s stiff body by now. “Hmm, maybe, just um, help me feed the reindeer.” He walked – Susie skipped – over to the sleigh. Franky could see a sliver of red peaking through the fresh snow – perhaps one of the arms of Santa’s housecoat. (That’s really what his suit was, wasn’t it? A colourful bathrobe.) “C’mon Susie, this way!” he quickly directed Susie toward the reindeer. She held out a carrot for Dasher, or Dancer, who ravishingly munched it out of her hand. Susie said, “Did you hear about the new reindeer that was born with a red nose?” “Yeah, uh, I heard something about it. Like, his nose lights up or something. Weird.” “I think it’s cool! Would sure help Santa guide his sleigh at night, what with all the bad snow storms around Christmas… Say, where is Santa anyway? Shouldn’t he be getting ready to fly already?” “Uh, yeah, actually, Mrs. Claus told me he came down with a cold, and he’s feeling under the weather, and she, um, asked me to take over tonight.” Susie blinked at him in disbelief. “No fucking waaay..that’s amazing! Can I come?” Franky had to think quick. For what he had planned there was no way he wanted her getting involved. Then again, she would be good company on the long journey, and she didn’t have to know what he put in the boxes for all the naughty kids. And who knows, maybe even a little sleigh sex. Franky had heard of other elves joining the mile-fly club.
…Susie was already loading the last of the gifts into the giant sack. He watched her as she stepped up on the sleigh’s ladder and reached upward with all her might, her sparkly blue elf skirt lifting just above her thighs, exposing just a peak of her pink apple bottom, and he was beginning to think this was a good idea. “Okay!” He said a little too excitedly. “Okay, what Franky?” “Um, I mean yes, you can join me!” “Duh, I already know that.” “Oh,” was all Franky said.
They were both seated in the sleigh – Franky holding the reins, Susie comfortably sitting on his left (the North Pole followed UK driving regulations to leave Santa’s whip-hand free). She felt warm next to him, like a living, breathing blanket, one he could snuggle in all year round. At that moment, Franky had never been happier in his life. Santa was gone, but it didn’t matter. It was his time. The world needed a new, updated Santa, one who was fair and just, who cared that the good kids were good and the bad kids were bad, a Santa who would teach proper beliefs and values based on the real world! Life didn’t reward you for being mean, dumb or lazy. You had to be smart and hardworking like his father – like him – he thought. The bad kids would soon find out that being bad had consequences. The worn out empty threat of, “Santa only delivers coal to the bad kids,” from every mom desperately disciplining their child was a sham. It was time for these pitiful parents to follow up on their word and stop giving in to their rotten child’s every whim just so, in their and society’s eyes, they seem like a “good parent.” Franky inhaled a big breath of fresh air, and everything was right with the world.
“So Franky, you actually know how to fly this thing?,” Susie broke his trance. “Uh, yeah sure, I’ve seen Santa do it hundreds of times! Plus, when he would go to the local tavern he took me along sometimes so I could fly him home after, you know, one too many eggnogs (Santa’s favourite). I got the hang of it. Just gotta steer the reindeer in the direction you want to go and whip’em every once in a while, but only if they’re slowing down,” and quickly added, “Don’t worry, reindeer don’t feel pain.” He wasn’t sure if that was true, but he could see it put her at ease. Franky gave the reins a slight shake and suddenly remembered how heavy they were – Santa was a big guy after all – and felt a little embarrassed. Susie reached over and took one of the reins and they shook them together. This jostled the reindeer out of their satiated state and they stepped forward. They shook the reins a little harder and the reindeer started moving forward in unison, an exciting feeling because they were doing it together. Franky got the whip out of the glove compartment, but Susie quickly stopped him declaring, “No, Franky. I don’t want to hurt these poor animals.” Franky relented and instead said, “On Dasher, on David..” – Susie quickly intervened – “On Dancer, on Prancer, on Vixen!” Franky continued, “On Comet on Q-tip..” – “Cupid silly! On Donner and Blixem!,” and she let out a squeal of joy. What kind of name is Blixem anyway? Franky thought. Must be German. Now they were picking up speed, dashing towards the edge of North Pole Valley… Suddenly both their hearts dropped like the sleigh itself off the cliff, and they were airborne now, flying through the cool, snowy air, snowflakes landing freshly on their rosy cheeks, and Susie grabbed Franky’s hand, and he could now die a happy elf, and his green tights grew even tighter.
…Franky didn’t have time to rub one out before leaving on his long journey, and he imagined Susie getting wet under her velvety dress, leading his hand down the inside of her thighs, her juices warm on this freezing night, glistening in the moonlight…
“Look out!” Franky quickly jerked the reigns out of reflex, narrowly avoiding a flock of geese honking wildly as they flew past. He had to get his mind out of the gutter and focus. He took out his elPhone and connected to the Sleigh Bell network. He turned on the GPS, or Global Positioning Sleigh, and they were off, into the night together, to deliver joy to all the good girls and boys and, unbeknownst to Susie, misery to all the bad ones. Franky, I gotta pee,”Susie complained. He pictured her squatting over the side of the sleigh, pulling her panties dow– “Franky! I can’t hold it any longer!” He knew there was a Porta Potty on board, but he needed to stretch his legs anyway. He tugged hard on the reins, indicating to the reindeer to slow down and start descending.
They landed on a rooftop in a snowy suburban town somewhere in middle of buck fuck nowhere, Canada. Susie hopped off onto the roof and pulled down her pants right in front of him, squatting, the fresh rooftop snow stained light yellow, like syrup taffy on ice. “Don’t look!,” she teasingly squealed. “Unless you like it…” Did he just hear her right? Or were his fantasies starting to blur with real life? Franky attempted to be a gentleman and half-looked at his list. A kid named Lucas lived here, and he saw he was a naughty boy this year, as well as every previous year to this one. (Weren’t all boys named Lucas naughty? It’s funny how you can tell so much about someone just by their name. Tylers were also bad, Jordans, Ryans and Brads. Franky wasn’t exactly a common name, but he imagined all Frankies were good boys, studious and hardworking.) He grabbed the appropriate parcel and threw it down the chimney. It bounced off the bottom of the fireplace and landed under the tree, a trick his dad taught him, who in turn had learned it from Santa. “What did you give him Franky?” “Oh, uh, just a train set he asked for..I made it too!” She would never know it was actually a box fill with petrified reindeer droppings, his own version of coal, wrapped nicely in shiny, blue paper along with the obligatory Christmas card reading: “Dear Lucas, make sure to be good to your mother next year! Ho Ho Ho! Love, Santa.”
By eleven pm Franky and Susie were making good ground, already covering half the U.S. in less than an hour. (Of course this was only possible on Santa’s sleigh, a kind of time machine if you will, using the principles of space-time Einstein laid out in his special theory of relativity, effectively slowing time down for them but ticking the same for everyone else in the world something Franky had learned in grade 3.) The children were tucked away in their warm beds dressed in their cotton PJs, or perhaps curled up by a warm fire, some already in dreamland imagining all the nice things they’d find under the tree in the morning, their tired parents draining the last glassful of eggnog, putting milk and cookies out for Santa and carrots for the reindeer, and all the other banalities that parents do to give the whole event a touch of theatrics because, Father Christmas forbid, the little rascals didn’t believe in a fat guy dressed in a red bathrobe coming down their chimney full of soot, late at night while they were sleeping, carrying awkwardly-shaped parcels down the narrow passage, somehow not waking anybody in the house, not even mom who’s a light sleeper who wakes up at the sound of a light switching on, placing them under the tree ever so delicately, wash back some stale cookies with nine day-old milk, then somehow manage to pull his fat ass back up the chimney (Does he fly, use some sort of hook fashioned to a rope or a grappling hook?) back to the roof, then do that another 7 million times in the same night! The milk and busquits were a desperate attempt at keeping that far-fetched fantasy alive as long as possible before the little brats became teenagers, experimenting with drugs, alcohol and casual sex….
So far Franky had delivered a box of tacks to Kyle (another terrible kid’s name) with the card: “Stick’em up cowboy! You were bad this year…maybe next year you won’t be such a prick” (Franky always had a way with words); a pack of dirty socks and skid-marked undies with the accompanying note: Just wash once and they’ll be like brand new!; a dozen rotten eggs to Sam with the sentiment: A dirty rotten gift for a dirty rotten child. Another box was empty with the card reading: Dear Billy, this is exactly what you deserve. Love, Santa. “Hey, next on the list is Sarah!” Excited to be bringing joy to all the girls and boys, Susie peaked inside. “Franky, why is this box full of tampons? Eww and they’re bloody…” “Uh, weird, that must be a mistake.. maybe one of the elves thought it was the garbage sleigh and, um, accidentally threw the trash inside.” Susie had opened more boxes, disgusted at what she found: reindeer dung, used condoms, a dead mouse, moldy cheese, old socks, a rotten fish, live worms…”Franky, what the fuck is goin on?” Shit he had to think fast. He could just tell her – maybe she’d actually go along with it – but what if she didn’t? That would certainly ruin their trip, and he’d have to turn all the way back to drop her off and that would mean no more sleigh sex for him… But he had no choice – he had to tell her now. “Um, see those are only for the bad kids. The good kids get the train sets, the bad ones, well, they get bad things. It’s only fair. The naughty children don’t deserve nice things. They deserve nothing, or reindeer droppings, or dirty socks, and the worst possible things imaginable so they actually learn their lesson! Santa was too nice, but he shouldn’t have been nice to all those undeserving little shits, they didn’t deserve it!” Franky was yelling now and was worried to think he may have frightened her. He could tell by the appalled look on her face that she wasn’t convinced. He decided to let it all out. “Those kids deserved what they got! They were rotten, spoiled, naughty children and somebody needed to teach them a lesson! Santa didn’t understand that you can’t be nice to everyone, that there are just some people who are born evil, and they need to be put in line! If not, who’s going to discipline them? Their mothers? No, they think their child is ‘special, or ‘it’s just a faze, they’ll grow out of it.’ They think their child deserves to be loved. No they don’t! They deserve to be disciplined and beaten with a wooden spoon. They don’t deserve gifts, they deserve garbage! They need to be taught that it isn’t okay to be rotten!” Franky realized he’d been screaming. What would Susie think of him now? He suddenly felt ashamed. “S-Sorry, I didn’t mean to get angry.” “Franky, it’s okay.” He realized Susie was embracing him now, and he was actually crying, sobbing into her warm chest, her arms wrapped around him like a warm blanket. “It’s okay Franky, I understand, it’s okay…”
…Susie liked Franky. She often thought about him at work, and watched as he expertly put together train sets, a master at his craft, his adept, strong, sculptor-like hands… She was wondering what else those hands would be good at. She’d fantasize being at his place, watching some Game of Gnomes (her favourite show), their hands accidentally meeting in the bowl of chocolate covered almonds, then slowly turning toward each other, their eyes meeting, both knowing what the other wanted, going through the motions, Franky’s elfly hands spanking her tight bottom, she tells him to hit harder, asking him to call her one of Santa’s hos, felt herself getting wet as she sat at her desk…
“Franky, did you…kill Santa?” The words didn’t seem real, like he was in another one of his daydreams. “No, of course not! He’s just.. taking a day off. You’ll see, he’ll be happy we helped him, maybe even give us a promotion!” Franky could feel his body getting hot underneath his parka even in the bitter cold. He wanted to tell her, tell her everything, but not yet… “Franky, I know you’re lying! I had a weird feeling when we were back at the North Pole, but I just didn’t say anything because, well, I wanted to come on an adventure! I’ve never left the North Pole – I’ve never even left Toy Town – and I wanted to join you because, well, I liked you too Franky, until I saw what you did to those children, to, to Santa! How could you?” Tears were rolling down her cheeks, freezing to her angelic skin. “Franky, take me home, now!” The thought briefly entered his mind.. but he knew it was too late now. If it ever came to elf court he would say she was his accomplice. He felt bad for her, but she was already in too deep. They were both guilty now.
“Susie wait, listen, I gotta tell you something… First, I really like you. I mean, I think you’re special, not like the other elves, and I think I, um, love you.” But he knew it was too late. He wanted to confess to her about what he did, killing Santa, his whole plan, but he was afraid she’d never talk to him again, as if she was ever going to now. “Franky, turn around now, or I’m calling the police.” Susie reached for her phone, but he quickly snatched it out of her hand and smashed it on the dashboard. Franky made up his mind: he put the sleigh on autopilot, picked Susie up, hopped in the back and dumped her inside the big red sack. She flailed her little arms and kicked her legs, but she was no match for Franky’s strength. Franky felt bad, of course, but he knew it had to be done. Evil thoughts crept over him… He would just tell the other elves she didn’t have her sleigh belt buckled up and she fell out of the sleigh, or maybe that she committed elficide because, uh, because Franky turned her down.. Yeah, she asked him out, he said no, she felt depressed so she took her own life by jumping out of the sleigh at high speed and landed on a rooftop, her tiny guts spilled out all over the snow covered shingles… He would miss her on his journey home. Her skin was a warm retreat from the frigid air, her icy blue eyes cooler than the snow.
Susie screamed and kicked, but it was useless. She slumped back in the sack. Her mind was whirling now… How could Franky have done these horrible things! And..he…did Franky really kill Santa? She didn’t want to think about it. It all didn’t seem real.. Just this morning they were flirting on their way home from work, and she remembered thinking how cute Franky looked in his green tights… Blah! She tried to shake the thought from her mind, but couldn’t. One minute Franky was this sweet, happy-go-lucky elf that she was falling for. Now she didn’t even recognize him; he had turned into a monster. What happened? He must be taking drugs. Her Franky would never act like this. Her Franky was kind, caring and generous. At least that’s what she thought.. Maybe he had developed a serious kind of mental illness. We’ll get him help when we’re back in the North Pole, she thought. She found a loose candy cane and started sucking on it.
After what seemed like ages, Susie suddenly heard the sack unzip, and a breath of fresh air blasted in through the opening. The foul odour from inside the sack was starting to make her feel nauseous. Slowly, she climbed out. Franky was still flying the sleigh. His comparably tiny elf hands were squeezing the large reigns in a death grip, eyes fiercely faced forward, his head clearly somewhere else. Just then Susie noticed something laying behind his seat. It was covered in blood. She grabbed the snowbar and… Now! she thought. It was her only chance to knock him out and get safely home – but she hesitated for just a second and Franky suddenly turned around, easily grabbing the bloody snowbar from her hands. He threw it over the side of the sleigh and her only weapon disappeared into the snowy void… “Sorry I had to put you in the bag. I just, I just couldn’t risk it. I’m sorry you had to be a part of this. I didn’t mean for you to get involved.” Susie remained silent. Franky didn’t know if he should fly back the North Pole, or keep going till the reindeer ran out of steam and just let the sleigh plummet into the icy ocean, floating calmly to the bottom of the abyss, never to be seen or heard from again… His thoughts were muddled, unclear, unfocused. He thought he had a plan, but didn’t much think about the repercussions he’d face later on. He’d stupidly planned out this toyorist attack without thinking of the consequences… He would be strung up on a candy cane and publicly hung. “Gnomicide!,” they’d angrily shout knowing that he had murdered the fat jolly man in cold blood. Why go home? Maybe I could start a new life with Susie in the South Pole… Raise elfants together, go ice fishing on weekends, make a living building igloos…
Susie suddenly lunged at him with a sharp object – this time Franky didn’t see it coming – but he ducked out of the way at the last minute, just barely getting stuck with the sharpened end of a candy cane. Even though they were roughly the same size, Franky easily overpowered her and was able to pin her down… The reindeer veered sharply upward, sending them flailing backward. Susie quickly reached out and grabbed onto one of the reins and clung for deer life. Franky fell backwards, thwacking against the bulky sack, then cascading over it. At the last second he grabbed onto the top of the sack… Susie was reaching to try and grab him. “Franky! Hold on!” Now everything ran through his mind like a movie reel. All the bad things he had ever done: beating up Gordie in third grade, stealing five elf dollars from his mom’s purse, getting Carl to clock him out late even though he’d left work early, having a wank in Santa’s office, and how the elves would react if he did make it back alive, what would happen to him, more importantly what would happen to him and Susie… “I’m sorry,” Franky said. “I..I love you.” Then he let go… Franky felt himself falling, falling, through the crisp, snowy air, and suddenly felt much lighter, no more feelings of hate or anger, just pure and perfect bliss, and he felt happy. “I’m coming Santa,” he said, although his voice easily got lost in the wind….
…thoughts and images flashed in front of his eyes… Slaving in the toy shop making toys for all the undeserving girls and boys, his father telling him he’s not good enough and beating him with a candy cane, his mother drunk on Christmas Eve, Santa touching him on his bits as a young boy, Susie naked, oh Susie, how he longed for her embrace… He never loved someone like that his whole life… They’re married now, with little elfkins, one of them looks like him! Susie looks so beautiful, baking in the kitchen wearing her apron, only her apron, and she’s such a wonderful mother, and now Franky felt happiness like he’d never felt in his entire life… Then, splat.
Susie was in shock – Franky was gone. But she had to get control of the sleigh again. Quickly she tugged on the reigns and pulled as hard as her little hands could…and the reindeer quickly corrected course and flew back into formation. She checked the GPS and saw she was a bit off course. Since it was a long way back, she made a decision. She made a sharp turn and headed back in the direction they were going. I’m gonna make this right, she decided.
Since she was on elf time it was only 2 AM and she calculated she’d still be able to hit all the stops on Santa’s route and be back by morning. She read the list of all the “naughty children” and returned to all the homes they’d already been to, making sure to replace all the bad gifts with toys and teddy bears and train sets and skateboards and doll houses and robots and Barbies…. She knew, deep down, these kids weren’t bad, or if they were they wouldn’t stay like that forever. These kids would grow up to be the students and teachers, firemen and police officers, bankers and lawyers, secretaries and salesmen of tomorrow. She believed they deserved love and gifts, just like the good children did. Franky was wrong, she told herself and now tears rolled down her cheeks, glistening and sparkling like the stars.
When Susie got home, she curled up on her couch from Ikelf, threw on some Elflix and watched House of Toys, her second favourite show. “I love this show,” Carl said, even though he’d never seen it. He’s no Franky, Susie thought, but Franky was gone and she wouldn’t let that spoil her evening as their hands met in the bowl of nuts.
Darkness The darkness creeps in again As day changes to night An unstoppable phantom An all-encumbering blanket No light can make it bearable Just surrender and accept It is dark once again Until morning
VERSE-ATILE: Freestyle Friday – “Psycho”
Scooby Doo Hip Hop Instrumental https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jg8l5BeTAeI
***Disclaimer: Wrote this after taking 20 mg of Adderall and binge watching Dexter. These deranged thoughts and machinations are just for fun. If you take offence, respond with a “freestyle rebuttal” in the comment section. Now dust off your mic and rap along!
“Yo, from Adderall to Ritalin get fuckin’ wired when I inject it in like it’s insulin / Smoke a bit a weed then I get inspired and I start to battle rap against myself like I’m Eminem / Upstanding citizen; stand outside your window and ‘stalk’ you like what you’re investing in / You see me thru the window but you pretend not to, you take off your shirt and your bra too / Then your panties I can see you got boobs, sittin’ on the wood swing good thing I brought lube! (“Eww…”) / I slowly creep to your backdoor – it’s unlocked – so I walk through from the back porch (door creeks) / I can hear the shower runnin’, grab a knife from kitchen drawer, look through the keyhole in the door (Psycho sfx) / Open it just a crack and peek through – I can see you masturbating, the curtain’s see-through / You’re enjoying this just as much as me, ooh, pulled back the divider, her eyes went wider than a treeshrew! (“Ahh!”) / I grabbed the bitch and saran-wrapped her like Dexter, I told her not to worry “I’m an expert” / She asked “Why are you doing this?” I said “I know you like it, you saw me outside earlier don’t lie bitch! / First I’m gonna rape you then cut off your right tit, I’m gonna put the masking tape on now so keep a tight lip!” / She started struggling, I said “Don’t fight it, it’ll all be over soon you might as well invite it” / Undercover of moonlight I grabbed the knife blade, held it to her face, yeah I’m deadly like nightshade / Told her I’m into mergers and acquisitions by day, but really I’m into murder and executions by trade (“What?” / Like drugs it’s just something that I crave, urges that I can’t control like my brain– / Suddenly she freed her hand and reached under the pillow – she pulled out a dildo and it started to vibrate / She stuck it in my ass then turned it sideways – Fuck! – Fell off the bed and hit my head on the night ta-ble… / I awoke with a migraine, the bitch was standing over me with a mace on a spiked chain / “I knew you were a freak!” She said “I hope you like pain” and bludgeoned me with it until the sheets looked like wine stains…. / Suddenly I awoke in my bed, wet soaked in a sweat, happy I wasn’t chokin’ to death / I reached down gropin’ to check…and found the fuckin’ dildo stuck in my ass, IT’S OVER, THE END.” -freestyle by Problem-Addict
Do You Think I’m Soxy?
written by Cameron Brtnik for ContentDistribution.com
Do you remember a time, long ago, when socks weren’t sexy? When they were just something you put on your feet if only for comfort, only to be tossed with disgust into the laundry bin at the end of the day. When they were just an extra in a Tide commercial, or something you “hung with care” over the fireplace on Christmas eve. Flash forward to 2014 when a couple of brothers, Albert and Boris Vaisman, started to think about socks differently, and built a little business called Soxy.
The trend has caught on – just inconspicuously check out your cubicle mate’s ankles, or lower your gaze next time you’re at a hobnob at your local haunt – and you’ll be sure to see metrosexual men sporting funky socks, a new form of “podiatry peacocking.” My best friend wears fashionable men’s socks and I feel it says a lot about his personality: quirky, charming, trendy. At first I didn’t understand it: why wear something fashionable that’s basically ninety percent covered up? Then I caught the “foot affliction” and began sporting my own pairs of fashionable foot covers. In high school all we wore were plain ol’ sweat socks. But now a fancy pair of socks has become a conversation starter, a snazzy accessory you can actually give more than a modicum of thought to, much like a fashionable fedora or flashy new kicks. Of course it’s always best to wear a pair of fashionable socks with an equally styling pair of shoes – and fortunately Soxy offers both!
Are You Ready To Look Cool?
Try These On For Size!
Mens Blue Big Stripes Bundle
Whether you’re into striped, checkered, or funky patterns, Soxy has a line of sultry socks for everyone. The great thing is they can be worn in all sock-wearing seasons. We love the Mens Blue Big Stripes (https://www.soxy.com/collections/mens-striped-socks/products/mens-blue-big-stripes-bundle ) for their vibrant colors and bold statement. And really, stripes go with any outfit or occasion. Choose from other styles on their website such as Purple Camouflage and Autism for something really mind-bending.
Why Socks Are Fashionable:
- They pair well with almost any wardrobe
- They’re fun to mix and match with pants, shirts, and suits
- They’re conversation starters
- They show your uniqueness and originality
“But what can I wear with my funky new foot fashion?” The answer is: pretty much anything.
What Color Pants With What Shoes?
First off, you have to know what pants you’re wearing with what shoes before deciding on which socks. Here’s a few pairings we recommend for the more sartorially savvy.
What Color Pants Should I Wear With Black Shoes?
Black On Black
The traditional answer is: black. It’s got a classic, professional look that’s never out of style, whether or not you’re wearing a suit. If you’re in the office or out on the town, you can’t go wrong with black on black. You’ve seen Orange Is The New Black? Well, Black is The New… Orange. Check out Fashion Beans for some great advice on black shoes (https://www.fashionbeans.com/article/best-shoe-colour-combinations-men/)
For The More Fashionable Fellows Among Us
White Pants With Brown Shoes
Want to make a statement? Go out and buy yourself a pair of skinny fit white pants and wear them with your swankiest pair of brown leather shoes. You will stand out like a Gucci model at state fair. Warning: you must be in decent physical condition to pull this one off. All those who care more about ice cream than ice skating beware. For a perfect set of luxurious leathers check out Soxy’s Mens Brown & Blue Leather Wingtip Dress Shoes (https://www.soxy.com/collections/mens-wingtip-shoes/products/mens-brown-leather-wingtip-dress-shoes)
White Pants With Black Shoes
For something just as stylish with a more classic appeal, try pairing those tighty-whities with pair of black shoes. You’ll still stand out – but more like Picasso among plebeians. Just be careful you don’t sit on any freshly-painted benches. Try adding an extra touch with Soxy’s Mens Purple Camouflage Socks (https://www.soxy.com/products/mens-purple-camoflouge-socks?pr_prod_strat=description&pr_rec_pid=2665183051894&pr_ref_pid=2654572707958&pr_seq=uniform) and emulating Elvis wish their Mens Black & Blue Suede Driving Loafers (https://www.soxy.com/collections/mens-loafers/products/mens-black-and-blue-suede-driving-loafers).
Black Pants With White Shoes
Crisp, clean and summery – no I’m not talking about some new kale crazy. I’m talking about skinny black pants paired with plain old white sneakers. You’ll look hip, fresh, and cool in this aesthetic ensemble. Even cooler, complete this outstanding outfit with a crisp white t-shirt or button down. Pick up a pair of white runners with Soxy’s very own Mens White Leather Sneakers (https://www.soxy.com/collections/mens-sneakers/products/mens-white-leather-sneakers).
“But What About My Upper Half?”
Black Shirt With White Shoes
For something more subdued but still stylish, throw on a black blouse buttoned up to the top. This speaks “fashion conscious” without overstating it. Elegant and smart, you’re sure to draw attention from the cool crowd. Here’s a great article from our friends down at Outfit Trends on white shoes. Now study up. (https://www.outfittrends.com/men-outfit-with-white-shoes/)
Wear Your Snazzy New Socks With:
- Black pants + black shoes
- White pants + brown or black shoes
- Black pants + white shoes
- Black shirt + white shoes
- Naked (*remain indoors)
Still not sure what pants to pair with what shoes? Check out this chart
Pant And Shoe Color Chart
Don’t worry ladies – we didn’t forget you!
As you can tell, this article was written for men. But that doesn’t mean you’re not a significant other looking for a snazzy pair of stockings for the love of your life. Soxy makes some great gift ideas, and they’ve made it easy for you by putting together special packages. Try these out and we’re sure your beautiful beau will smother you with delectable kisses. Mens Autism Sock Bundle (https://www.soxy.com/products/mens-puzzlemania-bundle?pr_prod_strat=copurchase&pr_rec_pid=2654572773494&pr_ref_pid=2654572707958&pr_seq=uniform)
Whether you’re looking to update your style or add to your already quirky collection of feet cozies, designer socks are in – and Soxy just made them sexy.
Follow Soxy on IG @soxy
Cameron Brtnik is a freelance writer living in Toronto. He now owns twelve pairs of Soxys, none of them matching
Ramblings of a Madman
Nothing like a cool pint on a cold day… Sitting in a warm, dimly lit pub, in prohibition era red velvet chairs. With the first sip you can forget your worries… And the pub suddenly becomes your home: the dirty table, the stained chair, the dusty lamp. You could live here. The waiter is suddenly your best friend. The previously loud and annoying resident is suddenly a friendly neighbour. The loud noises are suddenly welcome. The smell of chicken wings is suddenly akin to the feeling of an organism. An overall sense of elation comes over you like there’s not a thing wrong in the world. All you worries, anxiety, depression – poof – gone. I could kiss my neighbour right now: a bearded hipster. This feeling feels like it could last forever. Is this how men become alcoholics? Did it all start with good intentions – a stress relief, a therapy, something to set the world straight? If I were dying I’d like to got out after a few pints. I wouldn’t be afraid of death. I would welcome it with open arms, like my mustachioed companion. Why can’t I always feel like this? I never want this feeling to end. Weed is good too. Why don’t they serve weed-infused beer pints? They’re missing a good business opportunity. Maybe I should start one: a pub that sells weed pints. I’d make a ton of money. Then I could buy as many pints as I like.
Fall Fall is here Now taunting us At first bringing hints of hope Then encompassing us in its brutal embrace Like icy cold fingers grasping and gripping Exhilarating and depressing at once Ominously reminding us winter is just around the corner Fall is gone
Why? Why do I bother Wasted energy I could have stayed in bed today Why do I try Wasted effort I could have Netflix and chilled Why do I believe Wasted faith I could have stuck to the routine Why do I continue Wasted breath I could have killed myself But I'm still here Why?
The Night I don’t want this night to end Floating in oblivion I want night to last forever Why must we wake up? It’s as if the night is there just to tease us Only a short reprieve from torturous day Dreams blind us from what awaits when we wake I want this night to stay and comfort me in its eternal blackness The sun’s beams like a monster peeking from behind the closet door Spend day waiting for night’s warm embrace Bringing comfort and protection from all that exists Anonymity at last But don’t let it fool you Night is day disguised Unveiling its true identity come dusk Falling asleep into an inviting void A dimension beyond our four Together we go interstellar The night doesn’t care about your successes or failures Good night Sleep tight
How To Meet People
written by Cameron Brtnik
T0P 5: How To Meet People
Let’s see, what to do today… Go to work? Check. Pick up groceries on the way home? Check. Make dinner and put the kids to bed? Check. Read at least one page of that book I’ve had on the go for six months now… Sleep. Where in this whirlwind schedule of yours did you make time to meet people?
It seems the “art of meeting people” is lost on us. We’re too busy staring at our glowing, soothing screens (I know I know cliche, but also true). Too busy planning our artful escape off the elevator full of sweaty people we spent the entire ride trying not to make eye contact with. Too busy worrying about our home lives: I gotta talk to the husband, I can see Sophie’s going through some issues, when’s the last time I saw the dentist? Internal monologue that really wears us down mentally and physically. “Outside people” are seen as a threat to our own existence: “Don’t talk to me bub or you’ll screw up my mental grocery list.” But you know what’s fun? Getting outside your thoughts, and striking an “uncomfortable” conversation with your worried-looking neighbour in the elevator. Also chatting with that person behind you in the line at the grocery store as you’re paying for your Coffee Crisp. I guarantee at least one of you will leave the conversation feeling better about the world.
Without further ado, here’s my Top 5 Techniques on “How To Meet People and Break The Ice!” (or HTMPABTI)
Bonus: How to Remember a Name
- Repeat their name at least four times throughout the conversation.
- Think of a person you know with the same name who has a similar personality or hobby.
- Rhyme their name with something you’ll remember ie. Mike likes to hike, Suzy likes to drink boozy…
My Reading List:
- The Game by Neil Strauss (Don’t knock it till you read it! Useful for men and women)
- How to Win Friends and Influence People by Dale Carnegie
Cameron is a freelance writer based in Toronto and a passionate advocate of meeting strangers cbrtnik.com