A
young girl named Sparrow crept through the quack grass until she reached the
tallest tree in her yard, a Norfolk pine with emerald limbs attached to the
tree like perfectly combed mustaches. Sparrow stopped by the tree trunk and
knocked, placing a box in front of a tiny birch bark door. She stuck out her
tongue, fiddling with the shiny red bow taped to the top. “Perfect. This gift
is for you, Mr. Elf,” she stated with conviction, rising to her feet and
rubbing her snotty nose.
Sparrow
rubbed both hands across her stomach and danced a little jig, turning and shuffling
back towards her house.
Inside
the tree, an elf the size of a stick of butter leaned a pointy ear against the small
door, opening it to peer outside. The elf watched the human girl’s pigtails
wiggle as she walked most peculiar, like a penguin. But there were no penguins in
Florida and not many elves.
As
soon as the girl slipped into her house, the elf opened the gift, finding two
walnuts the same size as his hands. Martin the elf removed his green cap and
scratched his head. His mission was to give gifts, not receive them, and he
wasn’t the kind of elf to change his life’s purpose now. Martin looked up into
the branches of the towering Norfolk, grabbed the walnuts, and touched his nose.
Poof! He was gone.
Now,
Martin was twenty feet high, sitting on a branch. “Excuse me, Ms. Bark Beetle, I’m
your neighbor Martin. Would you like my walnuts?”
“Oh,
no. Yuck,” said the beetle.
Martin
frowned, then raised his eyebrows, waving at a Mockingbird. Unfortunately, the
bird flew away. This time, Martin touched his green boot, finding himself at
the top of the tree, surveying the lush mangroves littering the bay and the
majestic royal palms scattered below. Martin wasn’t alone; a serious-looking
osprey was clinging to the precipice of the Norfolk. Martin held out his hand. “Hello,
I’m Martin the elf. Would you like these walnuts, you know, for a Christmas
gift?”
“No,”
said the osprey. The bird glowered at Martin. “I only eat fish.”
Martin
furrowed his brows and touched the soft, spongy part of his right ear lobe.
Pop! Martin found himself halfway up the tree, clinging to the bark. “Sir. Mr. Pine
Weevil, would you like these nuts?” asked Martin.
“Don’t
be silly. The nuts wouldn’t fit inside my tiny mouth,” replied the bug.
Martin
kicked at a pine needle, searching the branch for other critters. He pulled up
his shirt and touched his belly button, vanishing again. Now, Martin was out-on-a-limb,
staring into the beady eyes of a fluffy gray squirrel. Martin smiled, holding
out his sweaty hand. The squirrel inched closer, ruffling needles in his wake. “Are
those for me? Oh, thank you so much,” said the squirrel with a whisker twitch.
Martin
puffed his chest. “Merry Christmas!”
