—– Original Message—–
From: Ellen Claus <eClaus>
To: Santa Claus <redbaws>
Cc: Dinaeli “Sarah” Dúvessel <elf0001788>
This is not boys will be boys, ask a woman to come in to fix things. No. Sarah: You’re just as at fault here. You took an oath. I don’t care who you are, where you’re from, what you did, so long as you love me, do you remember telling me that, the first time we met?
I don’t know what to think anymore.
What I do know is that this is giving us PR in a time when we are on the verge of losing the Coca-Cola contract, what with the WWF suit and the recent civil action set in motion by the cheapest civilian in the entire Western hemisphere. Milk. We have to laugh at it. One day, we’ll all laugh.
I’m not laughing now. I’m through with it, Santa saying oh, I’m a man, I’m messy, you clean it up, when, well, 56% of our Elf Force this year identified as male on our Christmas Census, and you don’t see the cabins in disarray: You can’t blame your actions on sayings, on these old sentences that come like little slaps in the face from the dead, when things were controlled in a more straight-forward fashion, honest, no need for media, or products used as a hand to cover the face, and all of that. We deserve to enslave and you should enjoy suffering.
This is not the oh, look, Ms. Clause, the hardened woman bringing insight to the men, soothing care to abate fires set by passionate men. I don’t blame you for having this assumption. I don’t blame you in the same way that I don’t blame Santa for acting the way he does, because he was programmed that way.
The point is that I am done: I’m with Dasher, Dancer, Prancer, and Vixen. Cupid has left to deal with his substance abuse problem, and Donner, well, he’s still off with Blitzen somewhere, the lovebirds.
We’re about to arrive to the flat where we used to live, before you were chosen, before all of this, when we used to walk, down the canal, past the arms, just to walk, not to take photos, not to talk about other people, but just to walk, watch tourists, or hide under jackets in the rain. All this snow.
Merry Christmas, I love you, consider this my two week notice.