“Worth your while, eh? Oh yes, I'll make
it quite worth your while, Keebler” you say.

“Now we’re talking! What have you got for me?” he giggles.

Creepy how he looks just as happy residing in your stomach, eh?

You lean close to the elf, pretending that you are going to whisper your offer to him. He thinks that you are, so he leans in too. As soon as he does, you grab a hold of his pointed ears, and drag him into your mouth. There is some muffled screaming as you pull him in, but you give his face a few whacks with your tongue and after a few minutes, he quiets down and stiffens up. Having finished him off, you take time to sit down and savor the rest of the elf’s body. Considering that you haven’t cooked him, he doesn’t taste that bad. Plus, he was wearing some candy underpants, so now you’ve had a complete meal. You dab your face with a napkin to clean off what remains of him, then you stand up and address the remaining, horrified elves.

“There, you see how I just ate your boss? Now you know how I got the nickname ‘The Mouth’ in prison.”

Upon hearing this, the other convicts groan in disappointment. You quiet them down and turn your attention back to the elves.

“Now then, you guys will show us the way out of here right now. If any of you even looks at me the wrong way, I will bite into you like so much delicious elf steak. And you at the vat, put that thing away right now.”

You pick one of the closer elves to lead the way. He leads your group through a large storage area in the back of the tree. You spot the exit back to civilization just beyond a stack of chocolate chips cookies and elf corpses. Finally, you can get back to preparing for an epic Halloween party.

As you’re heading to the exit, you start to feel a little queasy. You must have eaten something that disagreed with you, or more specifically, disagreed with you eating it. You sit down on a box of the company’s unsuccessful Butterscotch Tofu cookies and rest for a minute.

“Gee boss,” one of your cohorts chimes in, “maybe you should’ve taken that elf’s hat and shirt off before you ate him.”

“Ew, that’s sick, man! I wasn’t going to take his clothes off! I just wanted to eat him. Man, no wonder you were in jail, you sicko!”

"Sorry, we don't have any left."

Soon after you finishing rebuking your teammate, your head starts spinning. The elf that led you this far explains that the elf you ate had a real chemical dependency problem. He says that with the drugs he took to treat his ADD and depression, his methadone treatments, the shots of vitamins he got to treat his numerous failing organs, and his daily sample from the “grab bag” he bought in Mexico, you must have consumed enough drugs to kill a horse. You are about to ask him why everything always has to be measured in terms of whether or not it would kill a horse, but your stomach finally breaks open the cyanide capsule that the elf had kept under his tongue for when the ATF discovered the tree.

START OVER, YOU ELF-EATING, DEAD IDIOT YOU!