Tag Archives: elves

Mutinous reindeer, spiked egg nog, and bedazzled antlers

9 Dec

Please be seated.

I’m sorry to call you all in so early, but there are several issues which have been brought to my attention.  They need addressing and I’ve been informed that without this meeting, stable mutiny is inevitable.

Normally I like to keep out of reindeer affairs, but when Vixen went rogue a few weeks ago his departure sparked this downward spiral into anarchy.

Enough is enough.

Vixen is gone.

No matter how long you run around in those sweatbands and cut off t-shirts with the ripped V, he is not coming back.  Comet, I am told you’ve been spreading secret hoofshakes in the fields.

This will not bring him back.

I know you think he went out in a blaze of freedom, but I have it on good authority he’s lounging on a beach in the tropics, sipping pina coladas, happy to be out of the snow.  I suggest you rid yourselves of all Vixen related paraphernalia.

Moving on.

Dasher and Donner there will be no more initiation into Fight Club after dark.  Don’t shake your heads at me, I know very well what the rules are and I wish to God I’d never bought you that damn DVD in the first place.  Last week Cupid broke an antler, and I don’t need to remind you what THAT will do to our marketing team.

We’re still trying to recover from the great sled crash of ’06 when one of you thought it would be hilarious to spike Rudolf’s egg nog.  As you will recall, Santa’s knee never did recover and the insurance policy had to be modified just to detangle most of you from those plastic snowmen.  Blitzen smelled like electrified fur for months after that little adventure of yours.

That’s right Dancer, look away.  I know I could never prove it, but when you claimed ‘medical reasons’ for needing that hip flask, I pieced it together.

Finally, Prancer I’ve reviewed your request.  You cannot possibly convince me that bedazzling everyone’s antlers will bring a sense of unity to this crowd.   If Dasher and Donner got their hoofs on you after that, I’d need to hire a whole new staff.

I’d like you all to wear the standard red vests this season.

Nothing fancy.  Nothing flashy.

Just. Red.

We start the interview process for the newest member tomorrow, and I’d like you all to be on your best behavior.

Thank you.

-Head Stable Elf

Fat Man, these are my demands.

6 Dec

Big Guy,

We need to talk.

You know who you are.

White beard, giant belly, buckled boots, obsession with red.  Oh, and you’re a sell-out.

That’s right Santa.  I said it.

You think I haven’t caught on?  What used to be a workshop full of elves is now a vacant hole.  Scraps of paper, tinsel, and bells blow silently through the chilly warehouse.  Merry song and cheer have left the building.

You’ve outsourced to China, and I’ve got all the cheap plastic stocking stuffers to prove it.

I get it, times are rough.  The elves formed a union and though I don’t necessarily agree with all of their sweatshop claims, I do think it’s a little weird you refused to install heating.

I mean, the North Pole is cold.

Those guys are pretty small.  They don’t have the same insulation as you.  Judging from the many depositions in which individual elves said you forced them to give up their meals on a moments notice, it’s no wonder they didn’t stay.

That new cruise line they’ve started is really taking off.

Lets be honest-they do customer service pretty damn well.

Not that any of this really bothers me.  I’m writing on a more personal level.  You claim to know all of us, so I think it’s fair to assume we’re on a first name basis.

So Santa, here’s my issue with your latest antics.

Your demands have not changed despite the shift in personnel.

This is unfair.

You demand that I am good.  For the entire year, I am supposed to be on my best behavior.  I assure you, I do this.  It’s not easy.  But still, for the love of presents, I am a saint all year long.

A. Saint.

Do I leave out a bowl of dry cookie crisp for you on Christmas Eve?  No.  I don’t.  I leave out homemade, gooey, warm, delicious chocolate chip cookies.

It’s this attention to detail I think you’ve forgotten.

Since you insist that I am good but have been delivering merchandise made by the hands not of elves, but of small children in a far-off land, I have to take a stand.

I am not going to be good.

But you’re still going to bring presents.

If you don’t, I’m gonna tell Mrs. Claus about those piles of depositions she never saw.

You know what I’m talking about.

They’re in your desk right now.  Back file, behind boys names starting with Z.

The files I refer to are full of descriptions such as ‘uncomfortable’, ‘prone to leering’, ‘inappropriate handling of tube of cookie dough’, ‘spanking’, ‘moaning when bells on shoes jingled’, and my personal favorite:  “caught sniffing wool knickers in elven locker room’.

For shame Santa, for shame.

I doubt Mrs. Claus will be so nice to you if she finds out about those files.

So here’s the plan.

I’m going to be naughty.  All year long.

And you?

You’re going to bring me presents.  REAL presents.

And you’re gonna like it.

Expect my list post-haste.  Pleasure doing business with you.

Thanks Chubs.

Merry Christmas.