Every full moon the elf would dance outside Tommy’s window, and every full moon Tommy would look at her for a moment, yawn and then close his window shades. She’d take different forms each time… a redhead, a blonde, a brunette, short, tall, an Amazon, a delicate debutante, a bearded man, a hairless Adonis… But she’d always get the same result.

She finally lost her temper, and…

Will Tommy survive the wrath of the jilted elven queen? Find out next year on whenmarsmetsaturn.