The rumor is confirmed. The big guy, CEO of Santa, Inc., has resigned. He will Ho Ho Ho no more, at least, not in any official capacity. SheepTrax Undercover investigators have obtained a journalistic exclusive, a copy of Santa’s shocking resignation letter. Fans of the big elf, read it and weep. – Editor.
Dear Jesus, Effectively immediately, I have disbanded the Board of Directors and hereby resign as CEO of Santa, Inc. We are hereby dissolved.
Bluntly, I’ve been a fraud. While we both know December 25th isn’t really your birthday, it was still kind of cool that people took one special day a year to honor you with gifts like those Magi did so long ago. When we started, I simply wanted to honor you, too.
Sure, I started well enough. I just wanted in on the action, blessing kids and all. But you always got the attention. It was all about you! I froze my jolly tail off year after year being your glorified delivery boy and for what? A plate of stale cookies and fighting with cats for an occasional glass of sour milk? My unheated sled wasn’t even equipped with a golden parachute! You try bolting around this miserable little planet dodging jets, terrorist missiles, and slack-jawed hunters drooling the word, “venison!”
The Santa gig got old. Over time, I simply soured inside, and began devising a hostile takeover coup of Christmas. I can admit now. I wanted to be you. I don’t know where I ever picked up a copy of Judas’ bestseller, How To Write Your Own Ticket With God but he was my inspiration, my guide for the journey to the dark side of Christmas.
Being CEO of Santa, Inc. was a dream job, at first anyway. I worked a whopping one day a year, did oodles of PR work schmoozing with celebrities, and headed my own private army of displaced mindless munchkins who did my bidding with no union interference. Bill Gates should do as well.
Somehow, I got jealous of all the attention you received. Manny Mammon stepped in and helped engineer our break with you, supplanting you with me as CEO. Funny thing, but for a while our holiday hijacking worked. My name was in lights. Kids read about me, idolized me, and wanted to be me. I was the star of my own Christmas Pageant! But conscience came calling.
One recent Christmas Eve, during the final moments of the pre-launch countdown, I was double-checking my Naughty and Nice lists. Hackers had tried to infiltrate our mainframe and play havoc with the gift list. Our new Anti-CyberTerrorism division intercepted their little ploy and responded with our new “Lump of Coal” hard drive-melting virus. Hey, an elf’s gotta do what an elf’s gotta do.
Anyway, I suddenly remembered that you have the original Master Naught and Nice lists. You really do know who is sleeping and who is awake. While it’s part of my corporate vision statement, without your guidance, the truth is I was only guessing. In a moment of blinding clarity, I realized that I screwed the whole Christmas gig up for everyone. It’s not about you anymore. It’s not even about me. It’s about Mammon and Greed and promoting everything I once stood against. I have become what I hated.
I realized which of your lists I was on and began to weep.
I went incognito to the Mall of America and listened to my theme songs droning on and on over the intercom system. I was hoping to hear even one hymn, one song of worship; Silent Night even. Alas, nothing but jungles and reindeer drinking songs. I’m the guy who killed Christmas.
Jesus, I stabbed you in the back and have finally come to see I am not at all a jolly good fellow, but more of a Goodfellow. I’m just a red-suited, black-booted thug. I sinned. Please forgive me.
The reindeer were released back into the wild, which should make those tree-hugging buffoons at PETA rejoice. I’ve subcontracted the elves out to a multi-national conglomerate in Japan. They rock at making PlayStations. Perhaps I’ll open an Elves Big & Tall Shoppe, or shave and do Sumo wrestling. I don’t know. Somehow, I have to stop the insanity of X-Mas. Any ideas? Is there any way to put Christ back in Christmas?
I royally screwed up. Sorry.
Your broken-hearted pal,
Kriss Kringle, a.k.a. Santa Claus
Bryan Hupperts © 2003 – 2008
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