When I woke up, it was dark. I still had a few matches left, so I lit one. At once, a thousand other matches lit all around me, and I realized I was still in the House of Mirrors . Before the match burnt out, I saw behind the reflections of the flame a name so awful that I cried out in terror. My cries echoed back & were lost in the kaleidoscope of smoke. The flame shrank and was gone, plunging me into a darkness intolerable. I writhed in fear as I slowly groped about for a corner to cower in. The awful name revealed in the mirrors was my own. The sulphurous smell wasn't bad gas. My bumpy noggin wasn't neanderthal genes, and my penchant for wearing high heal clogs wasn't latent transvestite desired. I was a dwarf maiden in touch with my feelings.Working in the mines all day doesn't mean I can't make cake pops. At least I am not a snotty elf, they're the worst. At the inter-species bingo bash the snotty elves were vaping apart from us dwarves in the corner and repeating everything we said in an ironic mocking way. We dwarf maidens hatched a plan to get some sweet, sweet revenge against the elves. But how could our dwarf CWA (Cave Women's Association) irritate the blissed out elves vaping in the corner? We could bake a scrumptious pie and make them pay the price of insanity. Or they could just sell them to Santa. They grinned as they logged in the The Dark Web. Fortunately, Santa had access as well and they were on the verge of a deal, when Santa asked, "So where's the milk and cookies?" The DarkNet went wild as Santa got pissed when milk and cookies didn’t show up. Tired of waiting for the snack, he put on sunglasses and headed for the chimney. “Screw Christmas. I’m going to Bermuda!”

 

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