(Scene: Santa’s Workshop, the North Pole. Santa is sitting at a computer, cursing. A glass holding two fingers of scotch sits at his elbow. An Elf stands nearby)
Santa: G–dammit! Whose idea was it to bring in these G–damned computers!
Elf: The Board thinks we need to move into the…late 20th…century. They authorized the purchase of Atari computers to try and streamline our organization.
Santa: Atari? Are you f—ing kidding me? You mean Commodores weren’t available?
Elf: You’re being sarcastic, aren’t you, sir?
Santa: Do you know how many iWatches I’m delivering this Christmas? Crimony, I’d take an IBM Selectric at this point.
Elf: We have to cut costs! We got the Ataris for a song. I can have one of the Smurfs take a look at it–
Santa: And that’s another thing! Since when do we have Smurfs in the workshop?!
Elf: Since we got that letter from the EEOC.
Elf: Blue lives matter.
Santa: Double f&#%!
Elf: Sucks to be you, sir.
Santa: (lowers his voice) By the way, I think I may have stepped on a Smurf on my way to the bathroom last night.
Santa: Could you check and see if there’s a blue spot on the rug?
Elf: Now I have to change the sign!
Santa: What sign?
Elf: The sign out front that says, ‘THIS SHOP HAS GONE (11) DAYS WITHOUT STEPPING ON A SMURF’
Santa: Eleven days is pretty good! (looks at the computer screen) Where are my ‘Letters to Santa?’
Elf: (sighs) They’re in the file called ‘Letters to Santa.’ It’s pretty cryptic.
Santa: (throws a look at the elf, opens the file) Let’s see…here’s a letter from ‘Rosie.’
Elf: That’s the dog in Michigan. She writes us every year.
Santa: Yeah, yeah, I remember. What’s she after this year? (reads) ‘Dear Santa, thank you for getting Mitch married off.’ (to the Elf) Did we do that?
Elf: We’re out of the matchmaking business, remember? Her owner is the guy who sparked that whole ‘Match.com’ video business.
Santa: Aw, jeez. Cops get him for that?
Elf: How do I say this delicately? They couldn’t prove it was…him…in the video.
Santa: That’s real nice. (sips his scotch, resumes reading) ‘This year, I’d like to finally meet a nice dog, maybe partner up.’ (to the elf) We got any puppies we can deliver?
Elf: Two words, sir…Humane Society.
Santa: (resumes reading) ‘Barring that, I would just like a new toy, and maybe some treats in my stocking.’ (to the elf) Let’s make that happen. Easy one, eh?
Elf: I’ll notify Amazon.
Santa: Wait, what?
Elf: We’re supplementing your deliveries with Amazon. You didn’t think you were hitting the whole world, did you sir?
Santa: Well, I noticed the sleigh was a little lighter last year, but–
Elf: It’s 2015! What you can’t carry, Amazon can. It’s drone warfare.
Santa: (sighs) Pretty soon, there won’t be any need for me at all. I’ll be ‘out to pasture’ with the reindeer. How are the reindeer, by the way?
Elf: (tugs at his collar) Ah…they’re fine. They said to tell you ‘hi.’
Santa: You’re sweating.
Elf: Hot in here.
Santa: Think I’ll go make myself a sandwich in the kitchen. We got any meat in the fridge?
Elf: Ummm, ah, yes! Not reindeer!
Santa: Whatever. What’s your name again?
Elf: Burton, sir.
Santa: You know what, Burton?
Elf: What, sir?
Santa: (drains the scotch) It sucks to be me.
Elf: That it does, sir. That it does.