Elf Notes
Wherein one of Santa's Elves reveals the latest news from the North Pole
It’s that time of year again, time for St. Nick to hoist himself out of his Barcalounger, don his gay apparel, and squeeze himself into the UFO. That’s what we call the SUV that replaced the sleigh after Y2K. It’s surprising how many electronic components are built into sleds. Forget about working on them yourself! Mr. Claus flew that last sleigh like it was 1999, buzzed on cookies, jet propelled all the way. One big guy and eight tiny reindeer produce a ton of greenhouse gasses. After he crashed in Reykjavik, we scrapped the whole bundle of splinters.
Plus, there was a rebellion.
Old Rudolph finally put his tiny hoof down and declared he wasn’t going to lead the team of two-faced, brown-nosed, bullying reindeer any longer. Who can blame him? All year, it’d be “Get outta here, Shiny Snoot, we can’t sleep with your nose glowing all night.” Or, “No, Scarlet Schnoz, you can’t join our poker game.” Then, come Christmas eve, after Santa laid on the flattery, cajoling Cupid would be all, “Oh, Rudolph, you’re the best at busting through ice storms.”
Vixen would bat her long lashes and say, “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
Then preening Prancer would mutter under his breath, “Better you freezing your hide off in the lead than me.” And they’d all crack up, which they’d cover with vigorous high fiving all around. It made my stomach turn, sitting there in the workshop doing overtime, to see faithful Rudolph fall for that trick over and over. It was enough to make you cynical about the holidays.
But then one foggy Christmas Eve, Rudolph said, “Bastante! Enough!” He’d met a llama online. He was cashing in his stock options and moving to Peru. Wow! Santa was so flabbergasted he downed an entire liter of Bailey’s Irish Cream. Mrs. Claus ended up driving the team, and doing a bang-up job of it, with Blitzen and Donner sharing the lead. They looked adorable wearing headlamps borrowed from Snow White’s dwarves. Why hadn’t anyone thought of that before?
Since then, Mr. and Mrs. C tag team the big night. They’re so competitive! But it keeps them pumped to deliver those last two billion gifts.
We elves realized it was high time to make some changes of our own. First of all, we demanded three square meals a day. No more, “You’re elves, all you need is cotton candy” BS. Now we get candy from all the food groups: sweet, sour, chocolate, gooey, crunchy, and salty-sweet.
Secondly, no Christmas music until August first, and it has to end promptly on February 29th. And more diversity in the playlist. Just because we’re in the North Pole, doesn’t mean we aren’t part of One World, One Love. A lot of elves are Rastafarians.
Third, we get the top thing on our Christmas lists, without any haggling over “Naughty or Nice” minutiae. Pretty much everyone asked for climbing gear, so they’d never get stuck on a shelf again.
It was amazing how quickly Santa agreed to our changes on Christmas Day. Holding his hands over his big ears, he whimpered, “Anything, I beg you. Just stop your high-pitched jabbering!”
What a big softie he is!
Since then, the spirit of innovation has really blossomed. This year, we’ve initiated a radical new sorting and delivery system. Since they have all those great bike-racing teams, we based it on the United States Postal Service. We trust it’ll make this year’s distribution the most efficient ever.
I can’t wait!
Really, we forgot to include a forty-hour week in our demands, so I gotta get back to the workshop.
Happy holidays!
Love,
Squeaky Star the Elf
Great demands, Squeaky Star! And what about a 4-day work week and remote work??? You could work from Lima or Buenos Aires!
Clever story for a long winter’s night!