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The Evil Elf and the Deadbeat Gypsy |
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About Me Diaries Stories
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Tee, the world’s sweetest-looking and most undeniably evil elf, was out taking a walk around the toadstools one afternoon, glancing around him for evil deeds to commit. So far today he had placed the Duchess’s favourite irreplaceable rug in her cat’s litter box (just as a warm-up, you understand), convinced an obscure cult that he was a messenger from the god Revilo and that said god demanded mass cliff-jumpings, and planted an enormous stash of Class A drugs on the king’s desk just in time for his annual speech to the entire kingdom. Consequently the king was currently in jail waiting to hear if he would receive the death penalty or merely be deported to the Land Of Nothing, so called because it was a barren wasteland created to resemble the contents of the brains of Pop Idol contestants. But Tee was bored of such petty annoyances. There had to be a vicious and nasty task more worthy of him. Getting royalty to suffer painful deaths on a drugs charge was relatively easy – the local police, Constables Sausage and Chips, were nice, slow-witted, leisure-loving men, who liked to pretend Tee didn’t exist in order to give them more time for drinking herbal tea and playing miniature golf. As a result of this, the king’s claims that “The Evil Elf did it” would have worked wonders for an insanity plea but unfortunately didn’t do much to prove his innocence. As Tee was contemplating this, a withered old voice said, “I know what you want.” Tee turned around to see an ancient old hag, bent almost double with age, wearing over-sized gold hoop earrings and a brightly-coloured shawl. She displayed the blackened stumps that passed for teeth in something that was probably intended to be a smile but looked more like the aftermath of Tee’s recent arson attempt on the forest. Gypsies, Tee thought. I hate gypsies. To be fair, Tee thought that about everyone. There were very few people Tee would even tolerate, and most of them were the voices inside his head. “Do you.” Tee said flatly, wondering if the old bat would shove off if he told her someone was telling the locals she was involved in benefit fraud. Then he wondered if maybe he should tell the locals she was involved in benefit fraud. “Yes,” said the gypsy, “I do.” “Oh good.” Tee snapped. “So what do I want?” “Errr… Happiness!” the gypsy exclaimed, going for the educated guess. “Nice try, but not really,” said Tee. “What I want most at this precise moment is a large metal club to beat you to death with and a carpet to roll your carcass up in.” “That was the second thing I was going to say,” the gypsy insisted. Tee raised an eyebrow. “I was!” she protested. “Nobody ever believes me when I say that, but I was honestly thinking that, right after you said it I thought exactly those words, I did!” “After I said it?” Tee inquired, looking around for a large metal club. “Dammit,” muttered the gypsy. “Nobody’s ever picked up on that before.” “Stupid gypsy,” said Tee. “Don’t you be calling me stupid!” the gypsy shrieked, her voice ceasing to be withered and developing a sudden and harsh Cockney accent. She also straightened up completely, and Tee noticed some of the black make-up coming off her teeth. Ah, thought Tee, the sympathy vote. Freakin’ typical. “I’m still a gypsy! I still know about the future! And you’re going to die, you are, as soon as…” With that, Tee beat the gypsy to death with a large metal club. “Bet you didn’t see that coming,” said Tee. “I did,” the gypsy croaked. “Right after you hit me, I thought, he’s going to…” BASH. “You tried that five minutes ago,” Tee reminded her, between bashings. “It didn’t work then - ” BASH. “So why would it work now?” BASH. “You’ll never be happy,” the gypsy muttered. “You’re too evil to…” BASH. “Funny, that,” said Tee conversationally, rolling the gypsy up in a handy carpet that happened to be lying on the ground, “because my wish just came true.” Constables Sausage and Chips happened by. “What’s that?” asked Constable Sausage, pointing to the carpet. “It’s a carpet,” said Tee scornfully. “What does it look like?” “Good point,” said Constable Sausage. “Stupid policemen,” said Tee. “What’s that rolled up in the carpet?” asked Constable Chips. “It’s a dead gypsy,” said Tee. “Right you are then,” said Constable Chips, and the two of them walked off. Tee grinned and kicked the carpet in the direction of the prison, where the body was found and the murder was blamed on the incarcerated king. “Stupid gypsy,” said Tee.
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