NORTH POLE, EARTH—A terrified Kris Kringle shot up out of bed on Monday after suddenly realizing that it is nearly November, and he has not taken a single step toward preparations for the coming Christmas holiday.
"Mother [expletive]!" he was heard exclaiming in full panic, as he rushed out of his room still in his nightwear, dashing directly to the workshop to find nothing but dusty tools and materials for making toys.
"What have I been doing for 11 months?" he shouted as he punched a hole clear through a wall in the factory.
According to some elves close to the man with several aliases, including "Old Saint Nick," "Father Christmas," and most commonly, "Santa Claus," the normally-jolly cookie connoisseur generally takes a few days off following his annual delivery of toys to children who have been good. However, this year his sleeping in seemed to get longer and longer, and he seemed to keep his holiday weight long past what's usual for him. His head elves approached him on multiple occasions about plans for the next holiday season, as it often takes months of planning, and heavy coordination to have building materials and tools delivered to the needlessly remote workshop. Additionally, the efforts to sustain a healthy populace in the North Pole are enormous, considering maintaining a food supply that is well-balanced in nutrition, making plumbing repairs on what is literally a frozen block of ice, and facing continual inspections from animal rights and non-human workers organizations.
"His response was always something like, 'yes, yes. All in good time,'" shared a middle management elf who wished to remain anonymous. "'First, let's find some hot cocoa and a nice double chocolate cookie.' He just seemed a bit aloof and distracted all the time. Like maybe the pressure of his position was getting to him."
But a little time turned into weeks, and then months, according to the workers. Before long, the elves stopped bothering to come into staff meetings. During all of this, Santa seemed to keep distracted by the smallest things, as if he subconsciously forgot all about his life's mission.
"A few of us [elves] even started to talk about taking extreme measures: questioning his ability to manage the place. We wondered if maybe after turning 378, he was finally starting to show his age," shared another elf.
On Monday morning of this week, however, Santa's unconscious seems to finally have broken through to the surface, following a night of fitful sleep and yet another binge-watching of Netflix's Narcos that began Sunday afternoon. He awoke covered in dried milk and cookie crumbs, apparently fully cognizant of the scope of the problem.
Running from room to room, Santa began waking what elves remained, and barking orders over the loudspeakers normally reserved for playing seasonal music. "You puny little [expletives] get your pointy ears ready to listen! We have got about 10 months of work to squeeze into 6 weeks, so the vacation's over! No one sleeps until December 26th, you hear me?"
Although St. Nick has dealt with delays before, such as the reindeer strike of 1851, and the grisly serial murders of 42 elves over the course of 1962 to 1966 that are still unsolved, the talk from many of the workshop employees is pessimistic.
"I've been with Big Jolly since 1810," said one elf. "I've seen him down, but never this bad. This time it's different. Maybe it's age. Maybe he ate one too many oatmeal raisin cookies, or maybe not enough. I don't know, but this just feels like this year is going to be our Fyre Festival."
Although Mr. Claus declined to comment, citing too many schedule conflicts, he did offer this reporter a "free pass" this year if he could build a few hundred iPads by the end of the day.
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