So the joke is on me. Turns out the Tree Elves and the Shoe Elves all want references from your previous employer before hiring you. And his Hiney the King won't give a good word to an elf who had to endure being poked and prodded by kindergarteners who didn't believe in magic for almost 4 weeks straight.
Fine, whatever. This is a big city I'm in, and I'll bet I can find something to do. As it is, I met this boxer off of Main street who traded me some money for the last of my North Pole Magic. Santa Paws thinks flying to the North Pole and chilling with the tubby turd will be better than what he calls the horrors of a Houston summer. I tried to explain that Santa is a vicious task master, but boxers are a stubborn breed. He hied off to the pole and I picked myself up a prepaid smartphone and a got a room here in the greens point area. This place thinks it's tough. I know tough. Prison life is easier than the Christmas season I had. I think tomorrow I'll get a tat then look for gainful employment.
I don't need you, you Swollen Sadist, I'll find a perfectly lovely job without your shady references anyway
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