Monday was one of the most troubling days of the year. Tub after the tub was removed from the shed and brought into the house. One of them must have belonged to a musician because they pulled an entire tree out of it, snapped it together, hung some cheap Hallmark crap on it, and the thing suddenly lit up. Honestly, I have been told this is a magical time of year, but it was less Penn and Teller and more three-card Monte dealers on the subway platform.
I was ready to get on Mommy’s lap and under a blanket, the only food to encounter on a late fall day; I heard something softly whistling. Many figurines and stuffies lived on the North Pole all year and only came here for decorations, and I couldn’t see which one it was.
Then I saw a familiar, good-natured, yellow-furred bear. He was wearing a reindeer outfit with antlers on the top of his head. “Pooh?” I asked it.
The bear looked down at me, smiled, and said: “On the shelf.”
I didn’t understand and asked him what he meant.
“You have heard of Elf on a Shelf. I am Disney’s answer to that: I am Poo on the Shelf. I report to Santa if you have been good and bad, and if your stools have been soft or hard.”
“Does Santa care about that?” I asked.
“Believe me, if he knows when you are sleeping, and he knows when you’re awake, he knows when you’ve been pooping and if there is any Metumical you should take.”
“Why are you watching over me?” I inquired.
“Before I can become an actual Pooh on the Shelf I needed a trial one. Also you poo on a pad, which make it much easter to study your poop, which is magnificent.;.”
“Do I need to worry about you judging my behavior?” I asked.
“Let the other elves do that. I am all about the pooh. Keep up your solid poops and you will get a good report. One bout of diarreha might cause me to have Santa leave prunes in your stocking,”
I didn’t want that, so I will watch my diet the next month.
I don’t want the silly old bear to report anything back to Santa and for him to go to other houses.
No one wants to wake up Christmas morning to Pooh on the Shelf.
The tubs have made their appearance in our house too. So far no talking bears, but we still need to put one one tree . . . Lee and Phod who know the hat tax starts soon.
ReplyDeletePooh on the shelf might just be the next big thing!
ReplyDeleteRuby, you've rendered me speechless!
ReplyDeleteThose tubs have been brought up from the basement and sent back down after our mom pulled all sorts of stuff out of them. We are now decorated for Christmas too. Luckily, we don't have a Pooh on the shelf, but we do have an elf with a "naughty" and "nice" sign. We like to keep it saying "nice" all the time.
ReplyDeleteBwhaha! Paws crossed there aren't any prunes in your stocking this year Ruby.
ReplyDeletewe have da sister of pooh on the shelf... it s puke on the stairs... created by da phenny LOL
ReplyDelete... poo on this Pooh ... he no fun.
ReplyDeletePooh is getting way too personal with you, Ruby!
ReplyDeleteruby….we iz crackin UP! good thing poohz on de shelf tho…
ReplyDeletewhat if yur pawrentz dee sided ta put pooh on de kit shun counter 🙀
N ya dinna heer thiz frum uz, but that tree…..take a good run towardz it
and LEEP🎄😼😺💙‼️
Double Ditto to da Tabbies comment.
ReplyDeleteHugs Cecilia