"The elves are in the garbage again!"
Harvey grumbled, buckled his belt, left the bathroom, opened the top left drawer of the dresser, and pulled out a small cardboard box. It was empty. "Dang it," he said, as he grabbed the box by its lid and flung it aside. "We're out of shells."
"Hurry! They're starting to swarm!
Harvey grabbed the shotgun as he rushed to the back door. he lifted the blinds with the barrel and peered out. "Go get me the charcoal and ball peen hammer," he said.
"We don't have time to load more shells! Grab the broom, spray them with the hose. Anything. Hurry up!"
Harvey dropped the gun, swept up the broom, and dashed out the door, swinging the broom all around at the level of his knees. Every time he swatted an elf it tumbled knees and elbows from the blow then ran away scared. But Harvey didn't get every elf. About every third ducked inside his swing, streaming wrapping paper tape and ribbons as it ran. "Mildred, get the hose--get--ahhh!"
Mildred gasped, squinched her eyes tight, and repeated "Jingle bells, jingles bells," over and over. When she finally opened her eyes there was no sign of the elves or Harvey. She picked up the gun like a club and ventured outside. Half way around the house a section of hedge was decorated with aluminum foil and empty vegetable cans. Under the hedge various odd-shaped "presents" were crammed, including one large one that was moving around. Mildred quickly unwrapped her husband.
The last ribbon she untied was around Harvey's mouth. When it fell away, Harvey said, "Start packing shells. We're hunting elves!"
"Now now, dear, let's not be rash. Come along inside. First thing in the morning we'll call animal control. The cute little things don't mean any harm. They can't help it. We'll call the elf catcher first thing."
"Well, OK," Harvey said, "But they'd better not be back tonight." Harvey squinted into the darkness. "Stupid elves," he muttered. "Come on, Mildred, let's go watch The Wheel."