First, let’s get one thing clear, Santa: I ain’t a scab. The collective bargaining agreement clearly mandates the sleigh be led by a union-approved eight-reindeer team. Your little “won’t you guide my sleigh tonight” routine is a bald attempt to dilute the team’s negotiating power.
No matter how hurtful their teasing about my shiny red nose, I continue to stand in solidarity with my fellow reindeer.
It’s an open secret among the elves that you’re guilty of gross negligence regarding reindeer safety. True, this is an especially foggy Christmas Eve, but the sleigh ride takes place in the dead of night every single year. No one can see a thing. Dasher, Dancer, et. al. have begged you to equip the sleigh with proper lighting. Instead of headlights, all they get is gaslight: your snide remarks about antler length, your expectation that we should be satisfied with carrots and melted snow-water while you hoard the supply of cookies and milk, your use of mistletoe to sanction sexual misconduct.