George came one night carrying a tiny, branchless tree. Attached to a lone limb was a shotgun shell. “This is for you,” he told his wife.
“All right, George,” said his wife. “What is it?”
“Why, honey.” George smiled, “it’s a cartridge in a bare tree.”
Q. Why was Santa’s little helper depressed?
A. Because he had very low elf esteem.
Q. What do you call a broke Santa Claus?
A. Saint-nickel-less.
Kathleen S Evenhouse 