To add to my Christmas schedule stress, it is necessary for me to purchase Christmas presents for all 630 employees as an act of goodwill. As this is always so difficult, my annual tradition is to do a drunken spur-of-the-moment lunacy shopping binge. This can be equally inspired or mortifying for respective individuals on my list, but it gets the job done and this is all that matters.
Of course, Santa is one Fat Cat! Whilst I revel in handing myself £50 million p/a, my underlings can function perfectly well on minimum wage. This is the marvellous thing about capitalism – you get to treat people like crap, yet they have to pretend to be thankful for their miserable existence. It’s fantastic! Rest assured, though, if they want to get rich they can simply work harder. That’s the oblivious logic I’m going to stand by here. Listen, when you’re already functioning beyond a normal economic framework, vacuity is no obstacle!
Santa’s Shopping List
Last night, as part of my annual tradition, I got blackout wasted and, after checking through my receipts this morning, I can confirm the results of my spending spree. It went… a tad awry, I must admit. I’m not ashamed, just a bit startled. I mean, this one surprised even me. Oh well. It’s been done and I simply don’t have the funds to fork out for another batch of presents.
- Mrs. Santa Claus: I can confirm I’ve, somehow, ordered 300 kilos of cocaine for my wife, which I believe is freshly cut and being flown in by helicopter from Columbia tomorrow. Thankfully, I’ve done this before, but it all usually ends in a standoff between my heavily armed elves and the Colombian cartel. That’s just what I need! Gunfire exchanges when I’m trying to get in the Christmas cheer.
Back in 2011, I had a similar issue and they turned up armed with bazookas demanding an extra £300,000 for 500 kilos of raw heroin. I told them, via megaphone, “Piss off back to your stinking, crappy, rubbish country, you dimwitted morons. Santa don’t haggle!” and they got a bit angry about this. They kidnapped Rudolph, although this turned out to be their undoing as he’s a nasty piece of reindeer who has to be sedated 24/7 with morphine to control his psychotic urges.
The cartel didn’t know this, of course, and after a week a bruised and battered helicopter crash-landed onto our property and a heavily tattooed, stoned Rudolph emerged from the flames, smoke, and debris carrying a sack of cash. He didn’t say a word, apart from a snigger. Since then, there’s been an unhealthy sense of bad blooded respect between Santa and the cartel.
- The Reindeer: It probably would have been better to order vegetables, or something, but, instead, I ordered 10 tonnes of ready-made noodles. The thing is, due to their hooves they can’t even open the things. Oh well, they’ll be able to munch through the packaging. These are really bargain bucket instant noodles, though. I’m miserly alright, but I don’t want to come across this way, but 10 tonnes of no-frills instant noodles may not go down well with the reindeer. If I lace the packages with some of the aforementioned cocaine, this should cheer them up a bit.
- Rudolph: This guy is different, of course, so I had to buy him an extra special present. I ended up ordering him a PS4, a popcorn making machine, and a pet James Cameron, the movie director of hits such as Titanic, Avatar, and the Terminator. Now, quite how I got James Cameron I don’t know, but he’s currently stashed in a closet and is tied up with a gag around his mouth. He’s comfortable but, naturally, a bit infuriated.
Whenever I take his gag off he just starts screaming obscenities at me which, when you’ve got a hangover like this, isn’t welcome. I’ve sedated him with chamomile tea, but even this won’t stop his gaggled raging. Apparently, he was busy writing the next two Avatar films, so I’ll have to help him finish the scripts to keep to his tight deadline. I’ve already introduced the Terminator into Avatar 2, with Arnold Schwarzenegger encompassing one of those giant blue creatures. This allows for the epic lines: “I’ll be blue”, “Come with me if you want to live the life of an avatar”, and “Hasta la vista, unobtanium!” God, it’s going to be great!
- The Elves: For my beleaguered, hard-working elves I’ve ordered them each a copy of 50 Shades of Grey. I’m not sure why I did this. Mind you… last week, I was wondering about their personal lives and I suppose, in a drunken reverie, I believed this may facilitate romantic endeavours. Most of my elves are men, of course. In fact, 99.9% of them are men… oh well, Santa is pro-LGBT rights and if the Santa factory has to become an iconic gay venue then so be it!
- The Janitor: For our ex-convict, out on parole janitor Bill I have purchased a new mop and a bucket, as the ones he’s been using is a decade old and kicks up the most frightful stench. This is my most sensible purchase.
Well, there we have it. I’m busy trying to clear up the mess of this haphazard spending spree, but at least everyone is catered for – no matter how messy it gets, and how ungrateful or terrified they all are, I did my best and that’s all that matters. Now, excuse me, Santa has to go and load his sawn-off shotgun. The cartel is on its way.