Ho, ho, hopeless. It’s all hopeless. Why? As it’s that time of year again. We’re contractually obliged to run Father Christmas’ weekly newsletters.
Santa has grown increasingly unstable over the years. But we feel it’s important to get his message across. Why? Erm…
Santa’s Pogo Stick
My post-Christmas hibernation was a nightmare! Bed-soiling, bed-wetting, bitch wife changing the sheets while I bellowed like an outraged bull.
Rudolph, high on heroin, stirred me from my final slumber. His eyes bloodshot to all hell, he violently thrust an object onto my big beer belly while I lay prone on my freshly soiled bed.
My head elf, Markus, turned up and poured whiskey into my gob. I belched exuberantly and rolled onto the floor, bellowing angrily as Rudolph’s gift jammed into my liver.
“It’s nice to have you back, dearie!” Chirped my wife.
Ignoring the stupid woman, I yanked out whatever it was digging into my gut. I looked at it with contempt. “What’s this!?” Markus told me it’s a “pogo stick”. Well, it took me the rest of the day to figure out a few things:
- What a pogo stick is
- How to use a pogo stick
- Why Rudolph had given it to me
Coming out of hibernation is a total bastard anyway. The Santa factory here at the North Pole is cold and miserable and all I can do is drink heavily to take my mind off another Christmas run.
So I drank. And I drank a lot.
I was so drunk, bouncing around on the pogo stick, my massive beer gut flailing around all over the place, me screaming in anguish because of my gout and neuropathy.
In a state of euphoria, I demanded Markus inflate several bouncy castles in factory unit one (where all the Barbie doll production machines are) and we had a proper blast! It was the most fun I’ve seen my employees have in a long time! I got the drinks out, we all got a bit tipsy, the elves were up and about and revelling in the Christmas spirit.
By 4pm I was stark bollock naked and pogo sticking about with wild abandon. I was up and down, bouncing off elf skulls, careering off walls, and doing supermassive pogo stick jumps off the bouncy castle.
Never have I felt so carefree. So pure. I was in my element!
Then I launched off the bouncy castle like a goddamn rocket. SMASH! My skull went straight through the rafters and stuck out of the factory roof. Naturally, I started bellowing sweet bloody murder.
Markus and the other elves below were panicking and running around wondering what to do. Now, unfortunately, in their panic I started panicking. And when I panic I lose control of my bodily functions.
The resulting mess was impressive. But those snowflake elves where whining like little babies. I bellowed at them, “It’s just shit, for crying out loud! What, you’ve never been covered in shit before!? You can’t get the staff these days!”
I thought it was hilarious! I was stuck in the roof, sure, but I ordered Markus to crack open the absinthe. Rudolph joined me and we had a proper rave! Him dancing like a reindeer and rattling his antlers, then pouring absinthe into my open gob.
Meanwhile, the elves all went and got hepatitis checks in Nurse Doreen’s ward.
As for me, and eventually, the colossal weight of my beer gut weighed me down enough to rip my skull back through the rafters. I plummeted aggressively to the factory floor while in the middle of singing a moving rendition of Row Row Row Your Boat.
Luckily, several elves and a bouncy castle cushioned my fall.
All that lot over and done with, I realised it was only 6pm! To take the chill off, I threw a robe over my paunch and lumbered off to find my drinking cabinet.
The Crashing Comedown
The next day I was so… fucking… hungover I spent the morning naked, paranoid, armed, and guarding my bedroom quarters.
For breakfast, my wife brought me a burger. She saw me cowering in a corner visibly twitching, sweating, and clutching my bazooka (not a euphemism).
She cooed, “Are you okay, sweetie?” I glared at her with bloodshot eyes. “Honey?” I glared harder. “Okay, sweetie, I’ll leave this here for you.”
She put the plate with the burger on the table and left the room.
I eyed the burger warily. It sat there. Judging me. “Don’t you dare, you bastard!” I sneered at it. Silence. “Oh, I see… playing the goddamn silent treatment on me, burger!? I’m onto your game!” No response. I got up, my gout kicking in and making me hobble about while I aimed the bazooka at the burger.
“I’m onto your goddamn game…”
I stalked around the table with my beer gut wobbling. Then Markus knocked and came into the quarters. I looked at him sharply, “IT’S THE BURGER MARKUS! TAKE COVER!”
Markus saw the bazooka. He saw my massive beer gut. He saw my bloodshot eyes. Then he did a dramatic rolling dive and hid up behind the sofa, his terror of the burger evident.
And then… the burger SPOKE!
“That’s your head elf, is it? HEAD IDIOT MORE LIKE! HAHAHAH! HAHAHAHA! HAHAHAHA!”
I was outraged! I stood there in indignation bellowing obscenities. The burger just… kept… on… laughing!
“Santa Claus? More like SANTA FLAWS! HAHAHA! HAHAHAH! HAHAHAHAA!”
I was INCANDESCENT with rage! I turned a visible purple as the blood boiled in my head. “BURGER! YOU TAKE THAT BACK!” And I trained the bazooka on the burger, stuffing the nozzle into its stupid face. “YOU WANNA DIE TODAY BURGER!? IS THAT YOUR GAME!?”
I saw Markus trying to back out of the room. I barked at him, “Markus! Running away isn’t the answer!” He continued backing away and just said, “Sir… why not have a drink and a lie down?”
I bellowed back at him, “When did any SUCCESSFUL business owner ever have a drink and a lie down, Markus!? The early bird catches the worm! And…”
Well, while I was belabouring him I accidentally fired off the bazooka. The shell careered across the room, slammed into the bathroom, hit my heavily soiled toilet, and exploded. We were promptly showered in effluence.
And you know what the worst part of it all was?! The burger laughed and jeered. That goddamn psychotic SOB…
I started drinking again and sat down to have a long, hard think about the burger. Then I remembered last year with Aqrabuamelu—The scorpion man. Everyone said I was hallucinating in DTs. What did they know!?
Aqrabuamelu has since become a trusty business informant. He is also a dear friend.
And, lo, the burger had impressed me to the same extent. You don’t become obscenely rich by being a failure in recognising top talent! So, I got the burger and had a one-to-one meeting in my NEW conference room (more about that another time).
Turns out this burger, despite its petulant attitude, shares a lot of my personality traits and entrepreneurial spirit.
I hired it on the spot!
I’ll see how it gets on in its new role as official tannoy operator. I’m hoping the burger’s demented attitude problem can rile up my elves towards greater levels of productivity.
Later that day I accidentally took a bite from the burger. I was in a stupor.
Christ, I paid for that…
13-hours on the toilet. That’s where I am now, typing out this weekly newsletter. Unhygienic, yeah. And? I’ll try to remember to wash my hands, but there’s a big shipment of Barbie dolls I need to work through, so no guarantees there.