“But you're tall! And wiry! Like that guy in the movie.”
Sputtering, he flung the cloth on the couch, one leg draped over the arm in a manner that reminded him of a brothel.
“I look nothing like the guy who played Elf,” he argued.
“With your hair all grown out like that and curly, you kind of do. You need to shave the salt and pepper beard, though.”
“I do not have salt in my beard!”
Lydia stroked the side of his cheek and laughed. “I didn't know you were in denial, too, Jeremy.”
He grunted, shoving his feet into his boots, but he couldn't stay grumpy for long as Lydia stood, adjusting her long, flowing red shawl. Today was the Camp Christmas Festival at Escape Shores Campground, and it was all hands on deck.
But Jeremy refused to be an elf hand.
“Miles can wear the damn tights.”
“Miles is on elf strike, too.”
“Can’t Pete and Sandy find some local kids to play the elves?”
“The little kids still believe in Santa.”
“Then find some teens to do it.”
“Too jaded. Plus, they're all busy with final exams and sports.”
“Get Ed and Madge up here. They can be elves.”
“Grandma did it for years. It's too cold, Jeremy. They can't be outside for hours like that.”
“I will not be guilted into this.”
Just then, the front door to their cabin creaked open, Mike entering the living room.
Wearing... a Santa suit.
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