Santa is back! He’s still recovering from his bout of malignant gout, but he’s back! Great news for all of you wondering about Christmas 2018. It’s way behind schedule, but at least there is a schedule. And Santa is battling ferociously to make sure you all get your presents. Hurrah!
Right, so my gout has backed off enough to let me walk about again. Previously I had just been lying in bed roaring in agony 24/7. Mrs. Santa Claus, bless her, tended to me during this time, but is now partially deaf. I mean, I was literally bellowing at full volume for weeks on end! So she’s not slept much and looks a bit haggard. Stupid woman.
Anyway, to celebrate my return I introduced (on a mandatory basis) NUDE Days. That stands for: Naked Undressing Departmental Edification Days. It’s designed to teach my employees that being naked is good for you, good for Christmas, and not perverted or weird.
There were complaints about this because of the subzero temperatures here in the North Pole. So I just roared over our factory intercom, “If you’ve got a small dick, that’s your problem! You can at least blame it on the cold weather!” Stupid elves. They’re not skipping my mandatory NUDE Days just because they’re not well-endowed!
I inadvertently timed our first official NUDE working day with the arrival of government officials. So there’s Santa, enormous beer gut swaying from left to right, marching stark bollock naked towards these officials in their suits carrying clipboards.
One official, whom I shall name Woman #1, gave me an aghast look. I gave her a sly, flirtatious wink and sucked my massive gut in a bit. Got to impress the tarts! But, yeah, I maybe could have delayed NUDE Days by 24 hours. But that’s life for you. In an ideal world, these government inspectors would have all crashed and burned in the helicopter they took to get here. C’est la vie.
Anyway, I began showing them around. The elf corpses piled haphazardly on top of each out the front of the factory (following last week’s outbreak of smallpox) caused some consternation. They grilled me about that one.
To assuage their concerns, I told them I’d taken control of the plague bacillus outbreak from a few years back. But this only made them more agitated. So I gave them all two shots of brandy, a pat on the back, and led them through to the plastic vomit production centre.
Whilst I showed the halfwits around, an error on my part was making half of my employees ill. It turns out, when I went to order a batch of pencils, I instead bought a metric tonne of penicilin. I must have been drunk when I did that, as I included instructions for the elves to consume a large proportion of it upon arrival (drunk Santa is a malicious Santa).
So that’s what they did, being the dimwitted, overly obedient sorts they are. The penicilin arrived, they immediately consumed a pack each, and then started being horribly ill all over the place.
So as I led the officials through to the Barbie doll quarters, my Head Elf Markus appeared. Covered in puke, he stumbled towards me begging for mercy. I was disgusted by this! Being stark naked, of course, I didn’t want his bile all over me. So I punched him in the jaw. Wallop!
The officials started screaming at this point and even me yelling at them to shut up didn’t do anything. Markus keeled over frothing at the mouth with spasmodic thrashing limbs. The officials demanded I call an ambulance. “**** off! You call on ambulance, you bloody snowflakes!” is what I told them.
Anyway, as we hadn’t paid our electricity bill for three months we then suffered an ill-timed power outage. With the officials panicking in the dark, to the distant sound of 600+ elves vomiting copiously and screaming in terror, I tried to lift the moment by cracking a joke, “Hey, how many women does it take to fit a lightbulb? None! Because women belong in the kitchen!”.
Woman #1 said some very mean things to me about that one. So I decided to take action and get some light into the vicinity. I did the only thing I could think of. I scrambled about on all fours until I came across a hidden stash of brandy. I then pelted the bottle against the nearest wall and dragged Markus’ squirming body over onto the liquid. There he worked up enough friction to ignite the blaze.
As I took in our surroundings, the whimpering officials took in the sight of Santa looking at my hunkiest. Nude, and to the dramatic backdrop of my factory going up in flames, I winked again at Woman #1. I unquestionably caught a glimpse of a deep-seated, unequivocal love for me. Dames. They love a man who takes control.