Nobody ever wants to get back up on Santa’s lap and thank him for all that he brought them. So, he eats to fill that emptiness, and his beard is thick with frozen tears.
He drinks. The elves worry that he’ll pass out in a snowdrift and freeze to death.
Mrs. Claus threatens to leave, but she’s got nowhere to go. All she knows is keeping the fat old man happy.
Well, used to.
She wrote a book. Told everything.
The publisher printed millions of copies in time for Christmas.
Claus hung himself so he wouldn’t have to deliver them.