I Vacuum

I Vacuum
By Jeffrey Hite

Every night I vacuum the rug. Every morning I wake up and there are foot prints on my rug.
I vacuum.
Foot prints.
I vacuum.
Foot prints.
Little tiny foot prints!
Finally a bought a night vision, inferred camera. I caught the little beasts making foot prints all over my rug. They were little elves or gnomes or something. I also caught them fixing the broken wires on my stereo, and the loose screws in the furniture. They did everything, everything that is but wipe their feet before they came in the house. So I vacuum and they leave footprints.

The Christmas Clause

Claus stepped out of the advent towers feeling like he had missed something. He had gone in there to, to. To what, he couldn’t remember.
“What did you do?” The complex owner asked.
“He said the towers were going to have to come down, because he kept disappearing.”
“So what did you do?”
“Well I brought him in here to talk about turning the reality dampers down a bit...”
“And...”
“Well I turned them all the way up. I think he lost part of his memory of the event. The part where he said the towers had to come down.”