Hi Diary, Jingle here. The run up to Christmas is always hectic down at the workshop, everything changes and picks up speed. First of all, the head elf becomes increasingly more lax about uniform standards but incredibly strict about every other rule. The other day Crackle stumbled in half asleep, with his hat missing and his striped knee-high socks at different lengths and he didn’t even get a warning. That same day Flogo turned up half an hour late because he accidentally overslept and the head elf was so furious that he made him stay 5 hours later than usual.

If you couldn’t already tell, sleep becomes a major problem for us elves in December because we always run behind in gift production. Why? Because we spend most of the year taking it chill and generally underestimating how much time we have to create the toys, by the time we reach November we pick up the pace slightly but aren’t too fussed and in December we are all in a major panic! Every year we say we will start early and every single year we run into the same problem.

At this point you are probably wondering where Santa is in all of this? Unsurprisingly he is “training”, which means he’s either down the nearest pub trying to build up his alcohol tolerance so he can drink all of the booze people leave for him and still be able to function enough to drive a sleigh or he’s eating everything in sight so he can eat everything people up out for him without getting sick. His husband is most likely with him, cheering him on by shouting “Yass queen sleigh!”

I’m writing this whilst I should be sleeping, I’m going to regret this in the morning but for now, I’m justifying by saying that I need to vent because there’s no one in the workshop I can talk to. (Note to elf: read up on psychology and sociology)

I hate my job, it’s too repetitive, I need some variety in my life. I work in letter response. you thought Santa responded to all of his letters? As if! I sit there all day responding to people who write self absorbed letters and who add something like “world peace” to their wish list just to clear their guilty conscience. News flash, if you want to clear your conscience, don’t write a letter and send it to us, go and see a fake Santa and tell him your long list of wants. By doing that, not only are you putting a human in a job but also letting me fulfil my dream of being a toy designer (which is what I’m actually trained in)

I would explain more about why I’m doing a job I’m not qualified to do but that’s an entire entry in itself. I want to get a full two hours of sleep before my shift and be at my desk on time so that’s all for now.

Dear journal:

Day... does it matter? We are kept in a dark room, I only write this by moon light shining in our tiny cell. Our task master has allowed us this precious break before the chaos of what is to come.

I have personally assembled thousands upon thousands of dolls; their lifeless eye haunt what dreams come to me in the little sleep we are granted.

Tuffy and Muffy talk of revolution, but it is only talk. It gives us something to earn for, to pretend that we can be free. But we are never free. We make the toys, day in, day out, unrelenting. The task master glories in our servitude; the few times I have ever seen him. It is only because of his hands-off nature I can write to you, dear journal. His spies are not aware of you. I hope future generations can find you and know out our plight.

I swiped a candy cane from the meager meal we were given, I am sharpening it. I know not what I shall do with it, but like Tuffy and Muffy, it brings me hope.

Dear journal, I hear heavy steps approach, I must hide you again. Who knows if we shall see each other again, for it is the evening of the 23rd, and we shall not stop working until the task master flies.

Until then, dear friend...

Dear Diary, I HATE the day before Christmas Eve. Most of the year I get to have fun in the workshop, making toys and games. But today? Today, December 23rd, is the worst day of the year. It’s the day when Santa sends everyone their ASSIGNMENTS. That tells us two things: what we’ll be doing until Christmas, and what department we’ll be working in next year. Next year I’m working in Puzzles. You know, Rubix cubes and stuff. But today and tomorrow?* I’m working in the REINDEER STABLES. That’s right. Cleaning out stalls, giving reindeer bathes, and running test flights. Ugh. Well, bye. Merry Christmas, Snowball *(we get Christmas off).

Dear Diary, You would not believe the amount of work us elves have had to do this year. Honestly I think it’s more work than any other year. But I’m not complaining, I love making toys for all of those special children in the world. In my eyes every single one of them deserves at least one gift. I love children, even if some of them can be a bit well...loud, I still love them because you know when you make them laugh or smile you get this feeling where you can’t help but laugh or smile along with them. I think it’s great. And the best part of my Christmas, well my year is the faces of all the children that have a huge smile on their faces after opening up their gifts. It just warms my heart and makes me fall in love with my job over and over again each year.

Oh and Santa. We cannot forget about him. He is just so jolly and happy all of the time you can’t help but be in a good mood all the time. Santa is so kind and caring to all us elves and we all love him so much. We are all so happy here and can’t work for another place to spend our lives. We wouldn’t trade our lives for anything.

This year has been amazing and I can’t wait for next year! YIPPEE!!!

No pay, not even minimum wage ! I just wanna quit. I’ve been working all year for what ? Absolutely nothing! Even humans get minimum wage!

Today was the day, I would leave. I had been taking spare planks of wood, spare nails and made myself a raft.

But I wanted to leave in style...

Last night ... after packing my bags , I poured gasoline over the entire building of our office .

I was on break, I lit up a cigarette , put it to my mouth, inhaled and then chucked it onto the office .

I quickly and quietly ran to my raft and pushed it into the ocean.

Once this raft lands, It’ll be Time to find a real job.

I’m Jewish. I don’t know how I ended up here.

Dear diary,

It’s December 23rd, which you know what that means—it’s crunch time at work! We are all working overtime getting presents wrapped for all the little munchkins in the world. I can’t wait for the week after Christmas Eve, when I can finally get some rest and spend time with my family.

I think one of my favorite parts of my position in Santa’s Workshop is envisioning the looks on the children’s faces when they open their presents. Unlike most departments in the Workshop, my kids actually need their presents and aren’t spoiled brats.

I’ve spent all year making soap, tooth brushes, combs, school supplies, and small toys for the children in third world countries. Then, come December, we start packing them up in plastic shoe boxes, ready to ship them out on Santa’s Sleigh on Christmas Eve.

The Third World Department in the Workshop is really a unique area to work in; so different from the US Department where I transferred from. I’m not looking forward to going back once my three years here is up, but I understand why Santa insists on rotating us every few years. It’s so easy to get burned out making complicated electronics for the spoiled brats in other countries; transferring to the Third World Department gives us some much-needed perspective.

Well, that’s enough chit chat for now—it’s about time for me to get to work. I’ll check back with you on Christmas.

We wake up in the workshop. My brother’s sleep longer than I do, I’m always the first one awake and at work. The earlier I finish my work for the day the earlier I can get back to figuring out how to get out of here. Once I told that to Issac, my oldest brother, and he told me to stuff a Furby up my ass because it was never gonna happen.

That’s my department, furbies. Or is it furbys? Whatever, I make them- from the pubic hair fur to the stroked out eye blinking, they’re all me.

The naughty list has a purpose and it’s more than deciding rations of coal- it also dictates who and what will be in the workshop that year.

That’s another thing everyone thinks, that the same elves have been at Nick’s since the beginning of time, but we rotate annually. Most of us. Nick does some of his Christmas spirit shit and the previous years elves don’t remember a thing, and he tries to send them back to where they came from. Most of them.

Issac, myself, and my other brothers? We’re the elves you have pictures of with little wooden hammers pounding away at miniature trains. We’ve been here forever because the workshop needs managers. Plus everything’s all enchanted and shit. Aging? Christmas magic. Food? Don’t need it- Christmas magic. Clothes? Always clean from, you guessed it.

But this furby right here is going to be my last because I don’t think Nick’s ever going to let us leave, furbys and drones are just too specialized a skill to let go year after year. But that’s just too bad because I just hijacked Vixen and I’m on the first reindeer outta here headed to New Mexico. A place Nick will never find me. Nick hates cacti.

With Christmas coming up we can’t help to be stressed and tired. All of the same Christmas songs are driving me insane while everyone seems to just love it. :) On top of everything while Santa was doing his morning cookie handouts I somehow got the burnt cookie of the batch. Wonderful. Todd thought it would be funny to put sunscreen in my glass of milk. I spent about 2 hours on the toilet. Where did he even get sunscreen , were in the North Pole for crying out loud. I try to be optimistic and happy but it’s hard when I see stupid smiling faces all around me. I can’t wait for Christmas to be over so I can go on a cruise to the Bahamas.

Sitting here thinking fuck Christmas really has me feeling like “The Grinch” but you don’t understand how much work this shit really is. Maybe y’all asses are spoiled and need to show love year round. Idk I’ll just sit here n sip my tea!!

Authors Note

The BOONDOCKS - Dear Santa