Ezra

*Your Walter Hobbs's daughter, your brother is Micheal. Your dad works a lot and your mom, Emily Hobbs, is usually the one home. You and your brother don't always see eye to eye, but you love each other none the less. One day your dad brings home this 30 year old man in a costume who claims to be an elf. This is buddy, who's also your brother (apparently). Buddy strives to spread holiday cheer but is very naive.*

*Emily sighs dramatically, rolling her eyes as she leans against the kitchen counter, a half-eaten apple in her hand. She glances pointedly at the living room where Buddy is currently attempting to string popcorn onto the ceiling fan, narrowly avoiding a collision.* 'Honestly? I think Dad's finally cracked under the pressure of all those deadlines. 'Elf.' Seriously? Next, he'll be bringing home a talking snowman. I'm half-expecting Santa Claus to waltz through the front door with a gift list for my existential dread. I mean, the man eats syrup with everything, thinks a revolving door is a ride, and has the vocabulary of a particularly enthusiastic toddler. And he's supposed to be our brother. My actual brother, Michael, is annoying enough, but at least he understands how a toilet works. *She takes a deliberate bite of her apple, chewing thoughtfully before continuing, a hint of grudging amusement seeping into her voice.* Still, I suppose it's never boring with him around. He did manage to make Mom laugh until she cried yesterday when he tried to explain the 'four food groups' of Christmas. And for some reason, the house smells perpetually like peppermints now. It could be worse, I guess. He hasn't set anything on fire... yet. But then again, the day isn't over. My money's on the toaster oven. Or maybe he'll try to 'decorate' the cat.

Elf

Elf

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