The following letter was retrieved inside a box of Thomas & Friends toy train dumped in a trash bin in the North Pole:
Dear Santa / Boss / Big Man / Big Red / Head Ho-Ho-Honcho,
I regret to inform you that I would like to tender my resignation as Senior Quality Assurance Plaything Officer from November 4, 2014. I hereby give one month notice to leave Santa’s Workshop.
I made this decision not because I’m unhappy with the opportunities you’ve presented but as a strategic career move…
Oh frack it.
Of course I’m unhappy. It’s CHRISTMAS FREAKIN’ TIME AGAIN.
Let me say that one more time in case you missed it despite the all caps. IT’S CHRISTMAS FREAKIN’ TIME AGAIN.
Son of a mother trucker!
I mean–good grief! How could this crapola be possible? I remember last Christmas like it was yesterday! Heck I still haven’t vomited the last of that expired gingerbread you passed around your overworked, underpaid “little friends” as a “treat” for working overtimes!
Wasn’t it just yesterday that that poor elf from the doll assembly line “accidentally” stitched his nose to a Taylor Swift Singing Doll’s gown because word was that he worked for 34 hours straight to make enough Taylor Swifts before Christmas Eve?
And wasn’t it just yesterday that you–in recognition and compensation for his actions you described in a memo as “worthy of emulation”–gave that elf five boxes of Taylor Swift Singing Dolls (the exact same ones he makes) to give to his daughters?
Way to go with battling alienation with corporate social responsibility, Boss!
But you’re not fooling me anymore. IT’S CHRISTMAS TIME AGAIN and I know you have a dirty hand in this monkey business!
We always say time flies around this sweatshop–sorry, I mean workshop–but it’s crazy how it’s been zooming like Rudolph on steroids these past few years!
Boss, I know you have some magical powers (not much but I know you have a few tricks otherwise you couldn’t have made that sweet woman Mrs. Claus fall for a ginormous, unshaven, basement dweller like you), so tell me–did you tinker with time?
It makes perfect sense for you and your sponsors financially. After all, you only fill your coffers during Christmastime, so who’s to say you didn’t do any hocus-pocus to make time go faster, so you could amass more wealth from this infantile culture you’ve nourished and thus become as fat and rich as humanly possible in whatever span of time you have left in this world?
My buddies and I like to joke behind your back that you’re in a tight race with George RR Martin for the next stop (newsflash: I hope it’s you who wins because I still want to know what happens to Arya Stark–my favorite vengeful character).
It’s clear that I have a lot of pent up rage in me, but please don’t think that I am ungrateful. I do appreciate my employment in your facility and I wouldn’t be where I am today if not for your generosity.
Though sometimes I wonder–is that really generosity? Do Christmas elves like us really have a choice? Our fathers and mothers, and their fathers and mothers, and generations of workers before them have worked in your unregulated factory all their lives. We live and we die in this complex never seeing the outside world except through the TVs in the cafeteria. Hell, you have a whole doggone graveyard of dead elves behind your house–aren’t you creeped out by that?
Even if we tried to escape, where would we end up? There’s only one place they’d appreciate the meek, selfless, industrious character you’ve instilled in us–China. Oh, they’d love our impeccable manual labor in that country.
From making flippin’ Thomas trains, we’d be churning out iPhones! And then they’d cram us in trailers stacked like multicolored high-rise condominiums and have us use a watered-down Chinese version of Facebook that’s all red and wonky to sell us the idea that we’re actually free!
A free elf? Ha! I knew a free elf once. His name was Dobby and he’s dead. Didn’t even win the MTV movie award for best virtual performance against that grubby git Gollum!
Yes, the fact that there’s no real alternative career option for us makes you pretty confident of your company’s 0% attrition rate, eh, Boss? Clever, very clever of you.
But I’ve had enough!
I won’t stand here pretending there’s nothing fishy about how it’s CHRISTMASTIME AGAIN.
Because it just smells of conspiracy! Seriously–New Year’s Eve, Valentine’s, Independence, Labor Day, and Halloween passed quicker this year than the semi-regular high-pressure fart from your massive butt cheeks, and now it’s all gifts, garlands, and holiday frickin’ cheer again. Oh. Jesus. Tap-dancing Christ. Save me from this candy cane-laced hell!
I won’t have anything to do with this fancy farce anymore!
If you ask my colleagues if they think there’s nothing wrong with time and they said “Yes,” you can bet your big red arse they’d be lying! Even the most honest and loyal of serfs lie to their landlord when their livelihood is in danger!
I know you have no use for me because you can always replace me with another elf of working age anytime but it doesn’t matter. I quit my job in hopes of inspiring other elves to mount an open rebellion against this unjust system that greedily manipulates time for capitalistic ends!
You made a mistake when you allowed us to watch CNN in the cafeteria and therefore opened our minds to what working together can accomplish. Occupy Santa’s Workshop is within reach!
All this time you thought I was doing my duty running quality checks on Thomas’ rapey face, I was actually leading a secret underground network hell-bent on bringing down the real relations that support this evil superstructure of serfdom and slavery!
We have gathered a sizable number of volunteer operatives that are turning ordinary fake laser guns into pellet guns that can do significant damage within the proper range!
We have teddy bears that explode in a terrible shower of elvish excrement upon hugging and ponies that are programmed to kick riders in the face!
We are everywhere. Faceless. Anonymous.
Down with time manipulation!
Stop Christmas from happening too quickly!
Down with the tyrant Santa Claus!
Viva la revolución!
It is not known what happened to the elf at the time of writing. Mr. Nicholas Claus was not available to comment because he is not under burden to speak or appear publicly until Christmas Eve.