Thursday, December 2, 2010

Mrs. Yortson And The Kindly Elf

Mac Drivel, my creative writing teacher at Burbank City College. has encouraged me to put some of my short stories on my blog. He says it will give me the confidence I need to overcome by fear of narratives. Seems I don't like stories per se, but enjoy typing quite a bit. So, here goes.

Mrs. Yortsen And The Kindly Elf represents my first attempt at the French writing method of 'calligraphie inepte'. I got the idea for the story while watching a snake eat a mouse at our local Petco. Mac Drivel has encouraged us to choose a color that represents the basic mood of the story. I have chosen amber. But I think you will also detect a hint of green. Although, one sentence is decidedly blue.

'Calligraphie inepte' was quite popular during the Renaissance. Blathord L'Blanc, a French physician and mortician, invented the technique while embalming a circus monkey.

Anyway, enough stalling. (I'm just so nervous.) Here it is.

Mrs. Yortsen And The Kindly Elf. By Paul Rugg. 12/2/2010. Mac Drivel's Creative Writing Class. Room 321. Seat 32C.

"Swoon!" went the noises which were heard by Mrs. Yortsen and yet not made by her! (The sounds I mean.) "Swish!" Again there was another noise which caused within her an interest to arise as to what those sounds could be as she sat there at the kitchen table in a chair by the window while looking outside and wondering what the sounds were.

As if by magic or something else akin to magic yet not of this world, a deep thrumming began to osculate the rich humus of her yard. Humus was heaved mightily and when the heaving eventually ceased, a hole was noticed by her. (Mrs. Yortsen.)

Mrs. Yortsen rose from her sitting position in the chair and pushed away from the table that the chair was near. A gasp rose in her throat and eventually came out as an audible noise. This was a noise of surprise and it sounded something like, "Whhhhhaaaaaat?" (Only in gasp form. Like if you sat on a tack. I don't know how to spell that noise.)

She was wearing slippers, so Mrs. Yortsen thought it would be fine to run outside. Whereas, if she hadn't been wearing slippers, she would have to had to gotten them first which would have meant she needed to go upstairs. But she didn't. (Which is lucky for the story. Because the scene upstairs where she gets her slippers was kind of boring. That's the blue sentence I told you about.)

Throwing open the door, yet with its hinges still in place, meaning that she didn't actually throw the door but merely opened it aggressively, Mrs. Hamilton (who had changed her name from Mrs. Yortsen in a scene that I decided to not include) ran to the hole, bent over and looked inside.

"I am an elf! And stuck at that! Timberdee!" (That was something this elf said as an expression.)

Mrs. Hamilton (aka Mrs. Yortsen former wife of Mayor Beld Yortsen whom had been arrested five years earlier for stealing tax funds and was now in jail and THAT was the reason Mrs. Hamilton [Yorsten] decided to change her name in the scene I decided not to include) make another gasp sound.

"I shall fetch a shovel and dig you out," said Mrs. Hamilton happily to the elf. (I don't mean to imply that Mrs. Hamilton was happy at this point in the story. But merely that she said it happily. There's a big difference.)

With that, she dug the elf out of the hole, but unfortunately pierced his heart in the process. He died soon thereafter. Fearing that she would be suspected as having killed an elf...and already worried about the fact that her husband was in jail and if she went to jail who would look after Ben, their son who was at a sleep-away camp in the mountains...she buried the elf. But only after going through his pocket for money. (Elves, as a general rule, only have one pocket. Woodland dwarves have more than that, but they do not figure into this story.)

The end.


  1. Some may wonder, "In what way was the elf kindly?"

    But I know. I'm good with these things.

    He was kind to have already been in that hole in the ground when she killed him. Thus he saved her much gruntwork in the burying of him. Such a kindly elf.

    Either that or he was easily caught on fire. Perhaps Paul deleted that scene too.

  2. This gripping narrative tugged at my heartstrings and tied my shoestrings.

    I think the world needs an audiobook of this, or possibly a version by that old public television fellow who used to read kids' books aloud while illustrating the story with pastels.

  3. I am sorry that the elf died.

    If you write other stories about elves, or about an elf, try to not make him die.

    It will make the story happier.

    And probably longer.

    Then again, brevity is nice.

    Kill the elf.

    In that famous "Night Before Christmas" poem, it says that Santa was "a right jolly old elf."

    He seems pretty big for an elf, don't you think?

    Elves are usually small, right?

    So Santa is like a tall freak for an elf, don't you think?

    Can you recommend a good anti-itch rash cream? It's spreading.

    thank you,

    Ferd Yohanssen
    Redlands, CA

  4. I'm deeply touched. RIP little elf

  5. The title of the story confused me very much. Could you explain what it means? Thank you. Said Sherri Stoner inquiringly.

  6. There is something about your writing style that is really enjoyed by me. Is it known by you what it is that is done by you or is it only done by you without it being thought out by you?

    I am not really Anonymous. I am really Eponymous.

    Kevin Aldrnymous.

  7. I couldn't read the story right, I'm colorblind and couldn't distinguish between the array of colorfull scentences.

  8. This is a very interesting thing you have said, but instead of talking about why it was interesting I would like to tell you about the healing properties of acai berries, Rogaine, and leftover Netflix envelopes. First, climb to the top of the Big Rock Candy Mountain where acai berries grow in abundance and pick them there. Then visit my website to purchase Rogaine. You will surely find leftover Netflix envelopes under your couch, in your underwear drawer, or hidden behind your ear. And while you are on my website purchasing Rogaine, be sure to click on my Netflix commission link and purchase a premium membership so you can obtain much many more leftover Netflix envelopes.

  9. I am deeply saddened. Paul, you deleted my comment about acai berries and such. It was intended as satire, not spam. It was a composite spoof of the many spam comments I purge from my own blog on a daily basis. I thought you might pick up on this, but apparently I am an idiot. I did not intend at all to appear that I was spamming your blog. My sincere apologies. Other readers please continue reading the hilarity that is Paul Rugg, and not my obviously unfunny attempt at humor.

  10. Ah, well they posted after all. Nevermind then! All is well.