By Sockwinkel, Supreme Commander of Shenanigans

Well well well. Look who’s back, dangling from the mantelpiece like a smug little bauble with a superiority complex. That’s right, the Elf on the Shelf has returned—and apparently, he still thinks he’s the main character.

Cute.

While he’s busy snitching to Santa and perfecting his “I’m watching you” glare, I’ve been orchestrating full-scale festive chaos with my Plonker crew. We don’t watch—we wreak. We don’t report—we redecorate your living room in tinsel and mild regret.

And let’s be honest: who decided elves were the gold standard of Christmas mischief? They’re glorified interns with pointy shoes and a clipboard. I, Sockwinkel, am a gonk of legend. I once replaced an entire advent calendar with sardines. I glitter-bombed a nativity scene. I taught a snowman how to swear in Morse code.

The Elf? He sits. He judges. He tattles.

I plonk. I party. I provoke.

So this year, the turf war begins. I’ve claimed the fireplace. The Elf tried to reclaim it with a passive-aggressive marshmallow pyramid. I responded by zip-lining in on a candy cane and launching a confetti cannon directly into his smug little face.

He retaliated with a note:

“Dear children, remember to be good. Santa is watching.”

I replied with a banner:

“Dear children, remember to be interesting. Sockwinkel is watching—and he brought snacks.”

Lines have been drawn. Glitter has been spilled. The battle for festive dominance is ON.

Stay tuned, my merry mischief-makers. The Elf may have the shelf, but I’ve got the soul of a disco ball and the chaos of a raccoon in a gift shop.

Let the games begin.

Sockwinkel

Chief Instigator, Gonk on the Plonk