On the twelfth day of Shelfmas, the critters gave to me…
Twelve bummers bumming!
TROLL: Excuse me sir, but at this joyous time could you spare a dollar for a poor, unfortunate critter down on his luck?
CHIP: You don’t look crippled to me. Get a job, you slob! Everyone’s hiring right now.
TROLL: You see, sir…. I have a…. well, very unique ailment that makes me allergic to manual labor.
CHIP: Uh huh….
TROLL: And it can only be treated with cheap booze….. so if you’ll help me buy the medicine I so desperately need to be well again…. sir, where are you going? Sir???