Year after year, Santa’s Workshop produced its wooden toys and dolls and the traditional crap nobody wants anymore.
The fat old man, slumped in his throne, smiling and nodding.
Signing papers the elves brought to him.
More wood, more paint.
“Very good, very good.”
The Workshop. Raw materials came in one end, and toys went out the other.
But instead of loading them on to Santa’s sleigh, the elves put it all in a pile
And when the pile was high enough, they poured kerosene on it and lit a match.
They’d sing a few carols and return to work.