Far Horizons: Tales of Sci-Fi, Fantasy and Horror. Issue #22 January 2016 | Page 4

I get through Christmas Eve. I picked up the tablet
and fumbled a bit until I found a Word document of
the kid’s education. It looked like he had all the right
stuff: shoe cobbling, reindeer wrangling, magical
flight training, green and red-things fruitcake stuffing,
and even whistling while working. I didn’t really
care for that last item, but more importantly I saw
he had experience with production line
optimization.

A DECENT ELF AT LAST
Bob Lee
“Sit down, Kid! I don’t want to shake your
hand, and I definitely don’t want to know
your name. Your millennial parents
probably called you some dumbass
thing like Lux or Hashtag Seven.”
I took the unlit cigar out of my
mouth and waved it at the
skinny elf in front of me. “I
said SIT!”

I looked up at the elfling.
The kid simply sat there ramrod
straight in his crisp green jacket
with white trim, cinched with
a glossy black belt adorned
by a gold square buckle.
I figured it was newly
purchased by his mom.
His face had just started
growing a bit of fuzz. The
kid couldn’t be more than
125 years old. Sheesh,
they brought them in
younger and younger
these days.

The kid plopped
right down with a smirk
on his face, so I had
to hand it to him. He
wasn’t quaking in his
red booties like all the
other applicants I’d s