Santa at Work in His Sleigh
S. believes in an economy of scale. He turns to the elves accompanying him: “Bring me the map of Albany,” he says. “All of Albany.”
S. has blizzarded together a set of morals and beliefs in accordance with what the middles value. Around friends he is pleasant and helpful. He is happy making a modest living off of pelts.
A Sampling of Popular Opinion
- I love Manhattan, but now it’s just, like, a crowded suburb for foreign billionaires and domestic bankers.
- I am definitely in favor of the new plans.
- There is nothing for me on this planet.
There was an inefficient system in place, and what I did was subvert it by an external rotation of reluctant holly jollies. Nasally, I came to understand that light is a thing that is produced through the collision of particulates, and boy isn’t that the truth. When it comes down to it, though, I didn’t ask for this. A leader is not born; he is handed a broom and told, “Make it fly.” If people call me a hero, it’s only because I noticed the deadness in the heart of our civilization and decided to stick a motor in there. I attach myself to whatever the endless world-spasm dictates.
Stowaway through Ohio
and a little bit after the 7-11 episode we discovered a stowaway in the sleigh. He was large for a boy, large in the waist, carrying a small stenographer. He looked like… “Who are you?” Santa asked. He picked the boy up. He smelled of peppermint and linen. The boy wrapped his arms around Santa’s back and answered in whispers. “Father?”
A Trip to Congress
Q: Were you aware of the dangers?
A: All due respect, Sir, but what we were aware of was that we had a job to do. So we did it. End of story.
Q: And when you noticed that the pitched roof was icy, did you—were your plans changed at all?
A: No, clearly we couldn’t just up and change our plans. There are protocols, and the protocols were followed.
Q: Then why did Blitzen—?
A: It was loud. I gave the order. But whatever Blitzen did, if he even did it, had nothing to do with the order I gave. He was…what happened was a tragedy. I am sorry for the victims, but we need to be able to keep doing what we’re doing if we want to live in the kind of country we want to live in.
A man walks down the stairs and observes his wife, kissing Santa on the lips, under a bouquet of emptiness. “Heather?” the man asks, as he shivers. She does not stop kissing Santa. The husband likes it. He is kinky.
What’s True Is What’s Spoken Together
They are trying the best they can to live in the absence of self-esteem and insurance. They are young and in love. Tomorrow, unwrapped gifts will sit under their wilting Christmas tree: records, two thimbles of cognac, a twisted bagpipe made by Mumford & Sons, a puppy and its beliefs. “Do you think this is happiness?” he will ask, looking at the gifts. “Yes,” Maggie will answer, “today.”
The Mayor of Los Angeles
The caravan approaches the Mayor. “Permit?” he asks. “We have none,” Santa replies. “You need a permit to enter the chimney affects of our city’s people. See, we’ve had…trouble. And though I’ve tried to fix it, I am often misunderstood. Some people believe I hold angry, vengeful grudges. They’re right.” “Would it be possible to renew our permit?” Santa asks.
Sunset over Kauai
The Kauai we encountered was not the Kauai on any map. It existed in a state of spontaneous peristalsis with regards to the enjoyment of burnt meat piles. The females huddled in groups around a sailboat named Walter, and the males were content to launch biscuits into the stratosphere. They picked up spears and hurled them at our gifts. They attacked our ankles. They were friendly.
The End Times
There is satisfaction in completing a job and commuting home in a flying sleigh. Irregular methods do not always lead to irregular results (Swodenberg, p. 267). I am aware of what you say about us, but know that we are trying to find the culprit and bring him to justice. The sleigh was shot down near Alaska. Please send help.