During a recent spirited conversation about Christmas, in which both “Elf on a Shelf” and Krampus came up, someone in the room joked that there should be a “Krampus on a shelf.”

This being a country powered by capitalism, there already is, of course.

“Krampus on the Mantel” was a limited edition figure that came out three years ago in conjunction with the 2015 film “Krampus,” billed as a “horror comedy” about the mythical beast that punishes naughty children at Christmastime.

While it quickly sold out, there are several to be had on eBay for these willing to pay upward of a hundred dollars. There are also Krampus T-shirts, Krampus bells and even Krampus Christmas tree toppers and ornaments, presumably for households without religious faith or small children.

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For a solid two minutes — OK, maybe three — I seriously entertained the thought of doing Krampus on a shelf. My children are all young adults now with a healthy appreciation for dark humor. (They watched not just one, but all three “Gingerdead Man” movies.) Plus, they never had “Elf on a Shelf” while they were young, which seems vaguely like a parenting failure on my part.

But the more I looked at Krampus — which Smithsonian magazine called “Europe’s evil twist on Santa” — the more I thought, “Thanks, I’ll pass.” Krampus feels like the Christmas equivalent of the ouija board — something that, though manufactured by Hasbro, seems to invite evil to frolic around the edges.

I’m not saying that Satan has time to dabble in board games, but I do know he always comes in the back door, like a teenager trying to sneak in after curfew. (Beware: the elf on the shelf will see you.)

Then there’s the matter of the Krampus tours that are currently ongoing in Salem, Massachusetts. The town built its modern-day brand on the witchcraft trials of the 17th century, but after Halloween, interest in witches, not surprisingly, wanes. So Krampus walking tours are a bid for relevancy in December.

“While winding through the town’s darkened historic streets, hear tales of macabre pagan traditions and folklore that pre-date modern Christmas cheer” is how the tour is billed by Viator, which invites adult visitors to “discover the darker side of winter holidays.”

Uh, thanks? But most of us would prefer a Festival of Lights, which is why almost every house in my town seems to be competing for who has the highest electricity bill this month. We should beat back the efforts of Krampus zealots to horn in on the Christmas season.

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To be fair to Krampus, he is a caricature of evil that fits nicely in the “campy horror” film genre. Possibly, he was misunderstood; at the very least, he had a bad childhood, like the Jim Carrey’s Grinch.

Period renditions show a hairy beast with a grotesquely long tongue, cloven hooves, sometimes wearing chains and a bell, and carrying either switches or terrified children.

It’s unclear if children in the Alpine region of Germany and Austria, where the legend seems to have originated, ever truly feared a visit from Krampus. But “the Christmas devil” thrives there today, an object not of dread, but merriment and mirth.

On Dec. 5, the day before the traditional feast day of St. Nicholas, some European towns hold raucous Krampus parades. The tradition is starting to seep into the U.S., with Krampus parades held this year in places as diverse as Greenville, South Carolina, and New Orleans.

I, for one, do not welcome Krampification of Christmas, having long since packed our Halloween decorations away. So there will not be a Krampus on my shelf, although if you earnestly want one, I’m not one to judge and Martin Luther might have approved.

He advised a struggling friend on the matter of spiritual warfare, urging him, when confronted by the devil, “Laugh your adversary to scorn.”