From nblo.gs –
One particular Christmas season, Santa was performing a final SWOT analysis on the cost-efficiency of his annual gift season. There were problems everywhere
Black Friday and Cyber Monday, along with Small Business Saturday, had made a big dent in incoming orders that year with thousands of customers having said “to hell with the myth of Santa or Father Christmas; the kids are ordering cut-price toys online on their own IPads and they can open them on Christmas morning.”
Santa’s accountant elves were forecasting doom and disaster.
To make up some of the lost revenue Santa even offered his sleigh and the reindeer to deliver goods for Amazon, but they turned him down as they said white vans were much cheaper to run and didn’t poop on people’s driveways.
Morale was low among the elves, with three of them already signed off sick due to stress-related illnesses. With productivity right down to start with and the strong Elves Union (EU) making it compulsory to award temporary jobs to elves from the eastern North Pole with no prior experience of toymaking, Santa could foresee painful delays. It was so bad he thought about offering discounts to children’s parents to accept goods on back order delivered in time for Easter.
At home over lunch in their brand new, $30,000 kitchen grotto that Santa would be paying off for the next five years, Mrs Claus dropped a bombshell. “I’m leaving you,” she snarled. “You’re just a boring old goat and anyway I have fallen in love with the reindeer’s stable elf. He’s 24, built like an Adonis with a six-pack to die for, and on Boxing Day he and I are out of here. Try saying ‘ho, ho, ho’ to that, Fatso.”
Santa’s blood pressure was off the scale by now and he was exhausted from the stress of it all. He downed three cans of energy drink and stormed off to the stables to get the reindeer ready, as departure time was looming and anyway he wanted to give the stable elf a smack in the Nordic fjord.
But when he arrived there the stable elf had gone home for the night. Two of the reindeer were about to give birth and would only agree to doing the trip provided that their calves could come too, and that they should breastfeed them wherever required. Another two reindeer had gone lame and yet another one had slipped its halter, got its antlers stuck in the tackroom doorway and was screaming the place down.
With a skeleton crew of reindeer Santa slowly drove the sleigh to the service station for its annual MOT check up. “Sorry, mate,” said the mechanic elf. “Have to fail it. Wants new brake pads. Be ready Tuesday with a bit of luck. Busy time of year, you know.”
So, steaming with frustration, Santa went home to the grotto and opened up their glamorous cocktail cabinet in search of a belt of scotch to relax. Instead he found the scotch bottle had been emptied and then filled again with a foul smelling, deep yellow liquid.
Jolly red suit
Shocked and dismayed, Santa dropped the bottle and it shattered, splashing his jolly red suit and white trimming all over with reindeer wee. Mrs Claus and the stable elf must have had a good chuckle about that.
Just then the doorbell rang and Santa swore loudly on his way to the door. He opened it and there was a little angel with a great big Christmas tree.
The angel said, very cheerfully, “Merry Christmas Santa. Isn’t it just a lovely day? I have a beautiful tree for you. Isn’t it just a lovely tree? Where would you like to stick it?”
And thus began the tradition of having an angel on top of the Christmas tree.