Businesses like to give off the impression all is serene behind the fancy website or storefront. As Santa has proven with his most recent column, this is a façade. Behind the scenes, it is carnage. Sadly, the Santa Claus you think you know is rather more like a deranged and ruthless psychopath than the big jolly fat man who brings you presents. Brace yourselves.
Exclusive Santa Claus Column
Ho ho holy hell! Unlike other businesses, I don’t get to delay things. I don’t get to say to a billion kids and the invasive world’s media: “Look, I’m sorry, I ****ed up! We had a series of misfortunes, such as an outbreak of bubonic plague in the factory, and the population explosion in the world is making meeting Christmas deadlines increasingly difficult. Please… PLEASE! Cut us some slack.” Can I? They’ll be like: “That fat ****er Santa is slacking!”.
Inevitably, this stress has been taking its toll on me, my worker elves, and my reindeer. Mrs. Santa has also been struggling, but who gives a ****? She’s a woman and she belongs in a kitchen!
Black Death Outbreak
I didn’t make that up, by the way. The poor sanitary conditions in my factory led to an outbreak of plague. It lasted for several weeks and led to the deaths of around 100 of my worker elves – I was getting bored of looking at them, anyway.
Of course, I have a schedule to keep! Despite their being stricken with delirium and seeping buboes, I forced them to get back to work. The results have been… odd. Normally they’re half-decent professionals, but I now found toys coming off the production line looking somewhat peculiar.
Barbie dolls, for instance, have been covered in pus from seeping wounds, but also have Buzz Lightyear’s body and include a voice box which emits zombie noises. I’ve rebadged this shipment as a new range: Undead Barbie DuuuHUhhuuhhhhhlls (the last bit being a bit of onomatopoeia for zombies – I watch the Walking Dead, I have to cut loose sometimes).
Of course, I’m not a barbaric, ignorant Middle Ages sort with no idea how to end the outbreak! Ultimately, I decided to douse the entire factory and everyone in it in chemical grade bleach. This did the job and, after we’d peeled our skin off and it began to regrow sufficiently to enable us to walk again, we got back to work.
With 100 workers now dead and buried, I hired a batch of former convicts out on parole to get the job done. As many of these are musclebound men with shaven heads, tattoos, and a penchant for violence, the Santa factory has become a place of great tumult.
The former convicts don’t like the elves as they’re short and have high-pitched voices. You could say this is prejudiced, but the elves are just as bad, calling the convicts “baldies” and often lacing their food with laxatives. This has led to numerous brawls and, I’m sorry to report, further deaths.
I brought in my reindeer to try and help meet production KPIs, but their recent descent into drug addiction has become a real problem. Rudolph, for example, was placed in control of the plastic food machine (a booming industry in Japan). With his drug addled brain, he thought the food was edible and kept gnawing on the spag bols and shepherd’s pies which are distributed through the machine.
Ultimately, I sent him back to his crackhouse to get on with his new hobby. To ensure the plastic food shipment was met, I, Santa, took over the machine. Hot damn, wouldn’t you believe it? That plastic food looks really tasty and I ended up trying to eat a batch of them. This has landed me in hospital, where I’m writing this from, as the plastic triggered off my stomach ulcer and chronic flatulence. Rest assured, kids, I’ll be back!