I have two of these tiny elves of chaos living in my home. Males. The tallest says he’s 9 years old; the little one claims to be 6. They call me “Mom” and look just like me.
They are mostly smelly and surprisingly destructive. The objects they destroy seem to have no premeditation behind them; it’s random. Primal. However, at times they can be unpredictably sweet. But you must be wary of the sweetness: the elves are very manipulative. They want things, like toys and candy. **DO NOT GIVE THEM CANDY**
The small one received a new toy yesterday – earned it with good behavior. Or so he tells me. He picked out a Furby. (get a gander at this thing) I realize now this was out of spite. He’s freakishly smart and vindictive. I have so much to learn…
This Furby – which he named “ToTo” – (that’s not annoying) sounds (yeah, they make noise) suspiciously like Jodie Foster in Nell. (Go ahead, press that. I’ll wait. No really.)
I want to drive over it in my car. Repeatedly. Back and forth. Over and over. I want little tire tracks on its head. I don’t feel bad about it, either. Not one bit. Its eyes follow me. IT’S ALIVE.