Selections from Mr. Kringle’s Tales: A Miracle for Elf Randy

In a variation on “From the Stacks,” I have decided to offer you, between now and Christmas, a few of Jonathan’s stories from one of his most popular books:

Mr. Kringle’s Tales: 26 Stories ‘Til Christmas

Not that many people can write “funny,” but it was one of Jonathan’s gifts. This particular story might make you laugh out loud–a trauma of elf-sized proportion.


A Miracle for Elf Randy

The scourge of Elfdom, causing the tiniest heart to palpitate in fear—a malady so intense that the eyes bulge in abstract horror:

Tallitis—a disease leaving the once-proudly miniscule elf with swollen hands, feet, nose, ears, arms and legs, while skyrocketing the victim to a freakish FOUR FEET IN HEIGHT. Eat a bowl of four-leaf clovers and pray to be spared.

Elf Randy wasn’t so lucky.

About a month earlier, he had noticed that his little toe was larger, challenging his big toe for Top Little Piggy. A fluke, he decided. Then his left ear sprouted new length—terrifying. He had to wear a scarf and hat to disguise it.

Two days later, the nose became bulbous, the right knee a mountain and his lips ballooned to the size of inner tubes. There weren’t enough hats or scarves to disguise the disgrace.

“You have Tallitis!” screamed Elf Candy.

A tragedy.

Elf Randy was forced to live in a stable with the reindeer (because no one was quite sure if Tallitis was contagious.)

He busted out of his clothes and Mrs. Kringle had to darn him a robe made out of a used blanket from a reindeer stall.

Things were looking up—but for an elf with Tallitis, that was bad.

Doctor Ulandi risked a visit. “I’ve been thinking about Tallitis,” he said.

“Do you have a cure?” Randy was desperate.

“If the problem is big, then we need to think small. I want to try something.”

Doctor Ulandi pulled out a handful of pills. “What makes us shrink more than diet pills? Then I want you to soak in a bathtub of lemon juice, read a story by Edgar Allen Poe, drink seven cups of coffee…”

“Wait! I don’t understand,” interrupted Randy.

Doctor Ulandi heaved a sigh. “You see, diet pills make you lose weight. Lemon juice causes you to pucker. The story will cause you to shrink back in fear. And the coffee will stunt your growth.”

“Will it work?”

“No,” Ulandi said. “But it will keep us occupied until you explode.”

“Explode??!”

“Just kidding,” Doctor Ulandi said innocently. “But anyway, the final step is to throw you in the washer on the hot cycle.”

“What?”

“Well, it sure shrunk my pee-jammers last week.” Ulandi smiled and frowned at the same time.

Well, of course, Elf Randy agreed to try it. He followed each step faithfully. And so, coffee-breathed and starving, he dove into the washer.

Round and round he went in the oversized contraption, an elf needing to be “Cheered” and swept by the “Tide.”

When the cycle stopped, Ulandi shouted, “Hurry! Throw him in the hot dryer on ‘whites only’!”

Finally the dryer stopped tumbling. The door was opened. Damp elf smell encompassed the room.

A leg plopped out. A tiny leg. Then another.

Randy dropped to the floor—a new pixie.

Healed.

“It’s a miracle!” he exclaimed.

Doctor Ulandi gasped. Then, regaining his composure, he proclaimed, “You are re-Elfed.”

Randy returned to shop life.

A cure for Tallitis had been found.

Doctor Ulandi submitted his findings to a medical journal. (They declined to publish due to a very tiny readership.)

Ulandi summarized the day, “Well, as they say—it all comes out in the wash!”


If the story intrigues you, go ahead and purchase a copy of the book. It’s on Amazon.

Click the title to purchase your own copy

Mr. Kringle’s Tales: 26 Stories ‘Til Christmas

 

 

Sit Down Comedy … May 8th, 2020

Jonathots Daily Blog

(4405)

Sit Down Comedy

They are lying to me again.

Folks tell me I should just accept it. “Everybody lies. Just get used to it.”

I can’t.

There are just some matters that are so important they require the truth.

I’m being lied to about Covid-19.

I know I am.

I’m not paranoid. I’m just observing that all the symptoms of lying have sprouted.

  • Ambiguous answers.
  • Careful explanations.
  • Outlandish attacks.
  • Double-talk.

All these things tell me that the participants involved in this pandemic feel the need to lie in some capacity to support their position.

Even Dr. Fauci seems quite fuzzy.

For we all know, if this gentleman were actually telling the whole truth, his ass would have been fired weeks ago. He’s walking that “fine line” between revelation and deception.

I believe the good of mankind is total transparency. After all, they think you and I can’t handle the truth. Right? We need someone to pander to us. We need to know that God is still blessing America.

They are lying to me again. What should I do about it?

Here are two things we know:

  1. We cannot continue to stay in our homes, waiting for the virus to either scurry away or be cured by research departments that are in the back pocket of Somebody-or-Another, Inc.
  2. We also know that we cannot launch out in ignorance and begin to imitate America circa 2018 and pull off some sort of “Holy Jesus miracle,” which will make everything alright because we’re the good guys.

Whatever we do is going to be messy—but at its core, needs to be initiated through mercy.

So I need three questions answered.

I shall not believe a Republican or a Democrat in an election year.

Unlike millions of Americans, I don’t have faith in the medical field. I know for a fact, they tout more than they deliver.

And in spite of my faith, I do not believe that God is going to intervene, interrupt Science and His own Natural Order—to pinpoint one organism and obliterate it so we can go play football again. So here are my questions:

Question One: Do you have a preference?

Since you’re going to be making decisions about the safety and lifestyle of the American people, do you have a preference?

I mean, have you already decided that one approach is better for your political party? Have you concluded that you’re going to follow the dictates of some organization, where you’ve placed your allegiance in determining what is best to do?

If you are, I can’t listen to you unless I want to be a fool.

Question Two: Are you angry?

Are you preparing to make a decision about the health of 330 million people based upon a fussiness that has settled into your soul?

For I will tell you, the forces of the universe don’t give a shit if you feel put out, and they certainly are not frightened of the prospect of your raging tantrum.

And my final question to anyone who is going to try to offer truthful insight and a solution to this situation is:

Question Three: Who or what do you really care about?

I have to know.

Do you care about the stranger who has blood, heart and brain, just like you? Or do you feel that this stranger can be damned—just as long as the right person ends up in the White House?

So as I’ve asked the questions…

  1. Do you have a preference?
  2. Are you angry?
  3. And what do you really care about?

…the answers so far have been unfulfilling and even disturbing.

Here is what I feel:

Life is messy.

Tell the truth.

It doesn’t get better painted with lies.

Life demands mercy because we require it also.

So whatever you decide to do needs to be drenched in mercy.

I will not continue to be lied to and play the part of a helpless buffoon. Don’t talk to me unless you’re prepared to tell a truth that contradicts what you said before.

Then, and only then, will I be willing to listen.

Sit Down Comedy … May 1st, 2020

Jonathots Daily Blog

(4397)

Sit Down Comedy

Normal people work abnormally hard to appear normal.

Not for me.

It seems exhausting, if not humiliating.

I am peculiar, set apart—engaged in an uncommon consciousness, constantly and purposely dismantling the complexity into its simpler units.

I am peculiar.

How do I know? I respond to the information provided.

I get on the bus in front of me, noting that it’s been a while since any buses have passed by. For to remain normal, you must coincide with the majority.

A vote is always being taken.

It would be best if you voted with the masses, but acceptably good if you change your mind and disappear into the crowd.

I am peculiar.

I don’t think women will gain equality by acting their rendition of being men. Matter of fact, the whole concept of gender equality is foolish since we are all so much the same. It makes me giggle that we continue to try to compare the two, when oneness seems obvious.

The black man will never be able to tell his black sister that they are humans as long as they’re encouraged to rally without seeing improvement, struggle minus achievement and fail to guard their offspring from being cursed as inferior due to crime and sloth.

Religion is the wicked stepmother who refuses to let the children sit and dine with Father. Religion wants Father all to herself, so she can stumble from His presence to establish the rules and regulations which turn seekers into the distraught.

I am peculiar because I don’t think art is a paint by number set, with stipulations being made up by frustrated, discordant human trolls who have lost their lust for life and sit around finding ways to mock and condemn the human race.

I am peculiar because I hate politics.

Politics dresses up in a jim-dandy suit and marches off, teaspoon in hand, to fill the ocean of need while simultaneously carrying a thimble to empty the shit-hole.

Verily, verily, I say unto you, our common sense is not allowed to be common and is spurned for having too much practicality.

I am peculiar.

I’m not better than anyone.

I wear my flaws and virtues in equal glory.

I am not superior.

I am satisfied with my humanity, sporting its knowledge of good and evil.

What I see are beautiful people who smear mud, acid, poison and medications all over themselves in an attempt to emerge beautiful.

Why? Because it’s normally accepted that we possess an ugliness that needs disguised.

I can no longer condone a God who hates humans and wants them to become little gods so He can destroy them for their presumption.

What’s it like to be normal? How does it feel?

Do you ever have a moment’s rest?

Do you grow weary in well-doing?

Do you ever wish to do less, yet become so much more?

Do you want your vote to be honored instead of tallied by crooked counters bound to a party?

Do you wish that heaven was more real because you feel God on the Earth?

Are you sick to death of being normal when it really isn’t your choice, but rather, a fallback position of a generation of frightened dreamers?

How peculiar.

 

Cracked 5 … February 15th, 2020

Jonathots Daily Blog

(4321)

Cracked 5

Things Your Dog Would Tell You if He Could Speak

A. “I would rather spend my twelve years of living eating hot dogs instead of crunchy cornmeal pellets.”

 

B. “Trust me. Your crotch could use washing.”

 

C. “You are finally learning what I’ve always known. Cats are assholes.”

 

D.  “So you lost your job? Relax. I’ve got seven bones buried in the back yard.”

 

E. “Get in shape. You embarrass me on our walks.”

 

 

 

Cracked 5 … January 25th, 2020

Jonathots Daily Blog

(4300)

Cracked 5

Some Favorite Excuses for Being an Asshole

 

A. “I’m researching for a role in a movie.”

 

B.“I’m avidly religious.”

 

C. “I am married to one.”

 

D. “I have a brain tumor.”

 

E. “I am in politics.”

 

Cracked 5 … January 18th, 2020

Jonathots Daily Blog

(4293)

Cracked 5

The Worst Campaign Slogans

 

A. “I didn’t shoot anyone on 5th Avenue.”

 

B. “At least I’m not colored, female, gay, a socialist or a psychotic liar.”

 

C. “Russia will bomb us if I don’t win.”

 

D. “I will put the ‘party’ into political party.”

 

E. “I have four illegitimate children, but they are all in the military.  Support my troops.”

 

 

Cracked 5 … January 11th, 2020

Jonathots Daily Blog

(4286)

Cracked 5

The Real Reasons that Oscar the Grouch is Grouchy

A. He’s puke green.

 

B. He lives in abstract poverty in the trash cans.

 

C. He lost his beautiful singing voice to poor stitching.

 

D. His wife left him because she did not want to be ‘Laura the Grouch.’

 

E. He’s Southern Baptist.

 

<span>%d</span> bloggers like this: