Krumple used to frequent a club across town called the Three Ho’s, but the establishment had organized crime connections and that bothered him. Besides, the Polar Bare serves buffalo wings.
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Huh? Not making any sense? Although Artiste’s vignettes are non-linear, it can help to read the back story: • The Artiste Gullible back story. Of course you could just read them randomly, and trust that it will all come together at some point.
↓ Transcript
[image] A portly Krumple Kringle sits on a giant weasel, with a bag over his shoulder. A poster behind him advertises Krumple's hot pads.
[text] Krumple Kringle, Chris’s mean spirited, underachieving, little brother, lost a leg in a tragic, workshop related, industrial accident. Having exhausted his disability payments, and refusing to step a foot (or a peg) back into the family business, the disgruntled one-legged sock elf makes a life for himself stealing random bits of hosiery off people’s floors.
Being the jolly old elf’s brother, he is not entirely without magic. Riding on the back of an enchanted weasel, and employing traditional methods, he could circle the earth and visit everybody’s home, every night. That is, if it weren’t so much work, and if it didn’t conflict with happy hour at his favorite “social club,” The Polar Bare.
Krumple shamelessly sells his contraband to Inuits as hot pads. It’s not enough to provide a prosperous living, but as Chris is fond of saying, “It keeps coal in his stocking”
Most of the time Krumple limits himself to single socks. It is a kind of narcissistic malevolence, not the money, that drives him to do what he does. To underscore this, from time to time, he will take nothing, while deliberately leaving a hopelessly mismatched argyle sock.
“It is the small things like this,” he insists, "that bring me the most joy.”
[text] Krumple Kringle, Chris’s mean spirited, underachieving, little brother, lost a leg in a tragic, workshop related, industrial accident. Having exhausted his disability payments, and refusing to step a foot (or a peg) back into the family business, the disgruntled one-legged sock elf makes a life for himself stealing random bits of hosiery off people’s floors.
Being the jolly old elf’s brother, he is not entirely without magic. Riding on the back of an enchanted weasel, and employing traditional methods, he could circle the earth and visit everybody’s home, every night. That is, if it weren’t so much work, and if it didn’t conflict with happy hour at his favorite “social club,” The Polar Bare.
Krumple shamelessly sells his contraband to Inuits as hot pads. It’s not enough to provide a prosperous living, but as Chris is fond of saying, “It keeps coal in his stocking”
Most of the time Krumple limits himself to single socks. It is a kind of narcissistic malevolence, not the money, that drives him to do what he does. To underscore this, from time to time, he will take nothing, while deliberately leaving a hopelessly mismatched argyle sock.
“It is the small things like this,” he insists, "that bring me the most joy.”
So it’s HIS fault. I wish to hurt him greatly.
I’ve often suspected something of the sort. Thank you so much for revealing the solution to this mystery.
Oh my god, I could die laughing! Pure geniousness in every line! (And I mean that in both senses of the word!)
I knew it!