Editor’s Note: If you missed days one through four of Frank’s epic mission to destroy the elf, you can catch up here. Here’s day 5 from the diary of Frank the cat:
I feel so much more relaxed now that I’ve given up on trying to get rid of that stupid elf. My mind is at peace and I no longer feel agitated when I look at his smug little face. All morning I’ve been meditating and practicing mental mantras to get myself back into a more cat-like Zen state. He’s just not worth it.
He can tell Santa whatever he wants — my life is not about “stuff” anyway. So what if my stocking is empty because I’ve been “naughty.” There are other things that contribute to my happiness, like chirping at birds lined up on the feeder or taking a nap on a fresh-from-the-dryer blanket. I hereby release all anger regarding the elf.
What’s happening? The human lady is clearing everything off the shelf, including that elf. Oh, she’s dusting. She’s moved the elf to the floor beside the sofa. Hi, elf. I’m not angry anymore. Go about your business. Wait a minute, did he just smirk at me? Was that a smirk? I think that was a smirk. Be calm, release your anger, Frank. I can’t believe my eyes! Did he just growl at me? Oh no, this is not happening. Who does he think he is? He’s completely taking advantage of my newly Zen nature and totally harassing me! Calm down, Frank. Don’t let the elf get the best of you.
The phone just rang and the human lady left the room. Now I’m faced with a moral conundrum! What to do, what to do? I could take the high road and ignore the rosy-cheeked beast because I know the mental anguish isn’t worth the anger. Did he just flip me off? Oh no he didn’t. The elf is off the shelf and Frank is officially off the rails.
It was easier than I expected, really. He didn’t fight much, and barely kicked when I dragged him across the floor to the bathroom. It was like he knew he’d lost the game, and mentally and physically conceded. I dug a pretty deep hole in my litter box. It’s oversized, so there was plenty of space. He didn’t even make a peep while I kicked my clumpy litter on top of his elfin body, eventually covering him entirely. I have to admit I did a really nice job. I couldn’t even see a hint of his red suit or pointy hat. Did I feel guilty? Not really. He had it coming. I tried my best to let it go, but he pushed my final button. A cat can only take so much. Farewell, demon troll.
I just awoke from the first truly peaceful nap I’ve had in a week. I finally feel free from the hostile gaze of that elf who thought he had the right to judge my actions. I can breathe easier, the birds sound more beautiful and I am once again the king of the castle. Ho, ho, ho! Life is good! I can’t wait to see the bounty in my stocking on Christmas morning!
My eyes are certainly deceiving me! Confusion and horror are enveloping my very being! The elf is back on he shelf! How did this happen? I’m certain I buried him deeply enough that he couldn’t climb out. Searching, searching for some sort of explanation. I’m still sleeping. Yes, that’s it! I’m in the middle of a nightmare and will wake up very soon. Just ride it out, Frank. I need to stop lying to myself right this instant. I am not dreaming. Let me take a closer look. Yes, it’s really him, and he’s smirking even more than ever.
What’s that on his leg? Litter? He climbed out of the box! How could he? How did he? This is way worse than I imagined. The Elf on the Shelf is a zombie and we are totally screwed.
Read more Frank the Cat Vs. the Elf on the Shelf:;