Now that Santa’s honeymoon mayhem in Barbados is over, it’s back to business in the North Pole as he gears up for the chaotic push for Christmas 2025. With Mrs. Claus 2.0 by his side, you can bet your backside those Barbie dolls will be with you come Xmas day.
IF Santa is able to overcome the toilet dilemma first…
The Elves’ Cesspit
The first thing that struck Santa when me and the wife got back from Barbados? The elves’ cesspit is overflowing. It hasn’t been cleared out in years, so I knew this day was coming. I’d been putting it off. Hoping to mince pies that the issue would never rear its ugly stink.
But the stink was real!!!
Although Santa had left Markus (my head elf) in Barbados by mistake, kind of like Home Alone but with palm trees, I got him shipped back to the North Pole via first class. A helicopter flew him in and I shot it down with a bazooka, with the helicopter (via sheer happenstance) crash landing into the elves’ cesspit. Right into the centre of it! What are the chances!?
Everyone was killed and/or maimed in the crash landing except for Markus, who only had a singed eyebrow. Later that night, when Santa was drunk on cheap champagne, he visited me in my office. There, with STAGGERING IMPERTINENCE, he requested Santa install a proper toilet system for my elf workers. To “modernise” (as the little bastard put it) the toilet facilities…
My bellowing continued for some time after that. So much so Santa threw out a shoulder blade and Nurse Doreen had to visit to violently force it back in place.
But with the stink of cesspit in the air, even from my office, Santa realised the jig was up.
Cesspits are “old news”.
Cesspits aren’t meeting my “duty of care” as an employer under North Pole employment laws. And are infringing on various UN laws, too, but yeah whatever all right I’ll install some bloody toilets!
Toilet Installation is More Difficult Than You Think
When you’re so used to the ease of something, having to replace it is a pain in the arse. Santa loved that elves cesspit. Santa treated it like a brother. I even used that cesspit (if I was drunk enough) and fell in it a bunch of times, too. Thinking about it being replaced with a “modern” toilet complex was enough to make me weep many sad tears of sadness.
My new wife, Mrs. Claus 2.0, wasn’t very useful on all of this. She regurgitated a load of laws at me and then asked me to pay the daily $30 to turn off the “BZZZTT!!!” noise she keeps paying. Santa paid the $30.
THAT COST Santa is happy to cover. The MILLIONS it’ll take to replace the cesspit with a toilet complex!? I demanded Markus come to my office and explain to me why it was needed again.
“Because, sir, it’s overflowed and the stench is so rancid you complain about it in your sleep.”
Santa was flabbergasted about that and accused Markus (my head elf) of lying. But Markus had an audio recording of me ranting about the stench during my sleep. The 5 minute recording also saw my sleeping self rant about:
- Daffodils
- Empty jam jars
- Boiled eggs with soldiers
- Santa’s belief that my beard is the source of my business genius
- The elves’ cesspit (ranting some more about it)
“VERY WELL, MARKUS!!!” I bellowed mightily.
This meant I had decided to buy some new toilets. I figured, to get the ball rolling, I’d buy THREE for the 300 elves in my employ. That is a superb number to keep them happy and fully, 100%, completely, comprehensively modernise the toilet facilities for my workers at the Santa factory. 100 gazbazzillion %.
Installing the New Toilets
The new toilets were flown in the next day via helicopter. Santa blasted them out of the sky with my bazooka and they piledrived into the ground and blew up in a massive ball of flames while I laughed like a lunatic.
Only one toilet survived the ordeal.
It was noticeably wonky and the flush didn’t work properly. Nevertheless, I’d spent good money on that bastard and it wasn’t going to waste. So I had Kenneth the walrus install the SOB next to the cesspit, which Rudolph and his team of reindeer (Dom, Pérignon, Cava, Prosecco, Bubbly, and Sparkles) were busy filling in with snow, ice, tins of tuna, and used hay from their sleeping quarters. The combination of all that lot only seemed to make the lingering smell worse.
Whatever, after a day of HARD WORK, Kenneth the walrus had the new toilet installed.
145 elves were busting at the seams and needed to use it immediately. The first to use it, an incompetent runt by the name of Rufus, sat on the thing and “went”. The contraption was clogged immediately, overflowed, and listed to one side (The Leaning Toilet of Pissers etc.). Some of that could be attributed to the extremely violent helicopter crash from earlier in the day. BUT MOST OF IT WAS DOWN TO RUFUS BEING AN INCOMPETENT, INSUBORDINATE SWINE! I commanded him to THREE MILLION push ups as punishment. Rufus got to it on the ground equidistant from the new toilet and the cesspit being filled in.
Santa had Markus put a giant OUT OF ORDER sign nailed to the door of the new toilet facilities. Until it was repaired, the elves were instructed to simply foul themselves without mercy.
The Sinkhole
Having slept on the matter, the next day Santa demanded the new toilet be detonated. This had two core benefits:
- It’d fix the OUT OF ORDER problem
- We could return to using the trusty, good old-fashioned, traditional cesspit
Santa had Markus and Nurse Doreen rig the explosive. BOOM! It went off and murdered the new toilet facilities dead. Unfortunately, and to my immense regret, the explosion also triggered off an unexpected and enormous sinkhole that swallowed up the remains of the new toilet facilities, the old cesspit, Rudolph and his team, and the entirety of factory unit 3. Gone in an instant. Ever the optimist, Santa realised there were two core benefits to this development:
- There was a BRAND NEW cesspit for the elves to use
- That was really handy because Santa needed to go pee pee real bad
After I relieved myself, Santa demanded a search and rescue team go off and find Rudolph, Dom, Pérignon, Cava, Prosecco, Bubbly, and Sparkles. Kenneth the walrus headed this up heroically and disappeared, braying at peak volume, off into the sinkhole while ambling at great speed.
Rufus, meanwhile, continued on with his push ups. Santa sneered down at him haughtily as I lumbered on my gout-ridden ankles back to my sleeping quarters. Once back inside, I started drinking gin from the bottle and powered up my wife Mrs. Claus 2.0. I demanded to know if the new sinkhole was a good idea as the new toilet facilities.
“BZZZZT!!! Darling dreamboat, please pay $300 to unlock my emergency response mode.”
Santa paid her the money.
“BZZZT! PAYMENT DECLINED!!!”
My bellowing of rage continued for much time until, after 20 minutes, I was able to convince Mrs. Claus 2.0 to accept the payment. Then I asked her again.
“Mrs. Claus 2.0! Is the sinkhole a good idea as the new toilet facility for the elves?”
“BZZZT! Yes.”
Well… that’s that, then. Problem solved.
