Do not open ’till November 26th

‘Twas the night before Christmas-Santa’s point of view (explicit)

‘Twas the night before Christmas and all through the…goddammit, what did they break this time!

Fuckin’ Elves. I swear, if it wasn’t for the cheap labor, I’d hire some competent workers, maybe those spastic little pixies always coked-out on candy canes, then these little shits could go back to fighting fairies in the Ethereal Forest.

I should have left them there, maybe I’d get some actual work done without them always dropping stuff, taking so many cigarette breaks and constantly interrupting my list checking. 

They’re always chirping at me with their squeaky little voices like: “You should lose weight, Santa. Your BMI is equivalent to that of an elephant seal. That’s not setting a healthy example, is it?”

Yesterday one of them told me, “You should consider freeing the reindeer. We’ve received several strongly worded emails and a strangely aggressive retweet from PETA.”

Nag, nag, nag. The elves don’t realize; those reindeer wouldn’t last one day without me. It’s a jungle out there in the untamed wilds of the North Pole. I wonder if these pesky little gnomes have even watched the OSHA required safety and sensitivity training film: Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer. Poor Rudolph out there lost in the blizzard, his nose succumbing to frostbite and ultimately gangrene. That nose isn’t glowing so bright anymore, is it?

If I hear another shrill voice telling me, “Keep up with the times, Santa.”, I’m going to grab one of those Red Ryder BB guns from the toy assembly line, and we’ll just see who gets an eye shot out.

They keep screeching, “Children these days aren’t interested in baby dolls and toy soldiers; how ’bout you hire a game developer. We could create the North Pole version of Call of Duty. Instead of Black Ops it could be Red Ops; and instead of warfare and mayhem it could be about secret toy specs and stealthy gift drops.”

Now that I think about it, that’s not such a bad idea.

And then there’s Mrs. Claus. God love her but bust my baubles, she is beyond useless. Oh, she bakes, sure, on occasion. At least, she calls it baking. I mean, it’d be different if her cookies actually tasted good. If that woman is not binge-ordering from Amazon, she’s drinking the place dry of egg nog. I wonder if she needs a nog intervention. Her cookies might taste better if she’d only use those eggs for the purpose God created them: making cookies.

Come to think of it, maybe I could put those wicked on-line shopping skills to good use. Then I could kick those freeloading hobgoblins out and just drop ship through Amazon. There are so many ways ordering online will streamline this organization. Ho Ho Holy Night! They’d even deliver for me. I could sit down with front of the file guzzling eggnog till sweet baby jesus’ birthday celebration begins.

I’ve been wondering if I need to expose the elves for who they really are. When the children come to drop off their wish lists, I’ll explain to them, “See all these cheerful, hard-working elves here at the mall with me today? Well they aren’t elves at all. I know because real elves are lazy, conniving and they NEVER bathe. Real elves stink like the abominable snowman’s arm pits. But, these fine helpers are Little People and they work damn hard to try to make all this “magic” happen, and they smell nice, like peppermint and lollipops. So be nice and stop making fun of them.”

If things change around here, I could trade this ancient model sleigh in for something more comfortable; one with a climate controlled cabin, auto-warmed soft leather seats, Sirius satellite radio, maybe even a moonroof. A Cadillac conversion SUV (Sleigh Utility Vehicle) customized for Father Christmas.

Sadly, it’s too late to make those changes for this year. For now, I have to keep myself busy while the elves load up the toys. If they move any slower…ha, I guess, they wouldn’t be moving at all. At least that gives me time to duct tape the reindeers’ harness back onto this flying pile of firewood.

It’s time to head out before I lose the cold front. Damn global warming is really messing with my flight path. 

I feel like I’m forgetting something. Toys- check. Zip lock baggies for the good cookies- check. Toilet paper- check. Cell phone- check. Cell phone charger- check. Hand sanitizer and mask-check and check. What else? Oh, damn…the List, I will not forget the List again this year. 

I just need to grab my boots and coat, kiss the Mrs. good-bye and remind the elves to sweep up the ashes of my burned effigy by the time I return…maybe I can pick up a couple pixies while I’m out.

Author’s note:  If you enjoyed this it was done with the help of a friend, Ryan Bell. If you hate it, it’s all his..