X-mas

X-Mas by J.B. Pravda

He had grown truly obese, to the point of cruelty to the reindeer: the
vet, having given up on altering the driver's eating habits, had
reported Klaus to the German authorities charged with the protection of
animals.

Compounding the crisis, the elves, long-hostile to the sweatshop mien
of what had become a worldwide conglomerate of material excess, had
demanded the literal halving of their work hours. No longer effective
in intimidating these strange beings----even the vet had refused to
treat them...or classify them, for that matter----CEO Klaus
Hergesheimer's lame insistence that working conditions were climate
controlled specifically to prevent 'sweat' completely had run its
perverse course: amuck.

All these circumstances were converging for a showdown: the elves, now
organized by an organizing committee of Munchkins from the sister city
to 'North Pole', Emerald City, were firmly on course for that
destination, what with their campaign, poignantly (if demeaning) known
as 'Half Hours for Half-Pints'; quarantined sleigh-draft animals and,
most quarrelsome, Klaus' spouse, now obliviously well into launch of
her own, poorly conceived 'all-weather' Yvette Sant Klaus line of
holidaywear.

It was this last 'straw' which had engendered the most scathing
criticism of the operation----a jihad was threatened against her/their
relentless marketing by nonobservant Muslims and native tribal
populations were up in arms, as well as legs, over the demon-summoning
color red; overtures aimed at softening the off-putting hue were
rebuffed, Klaus &; Co. having completely missed the cultural point.
Protestations, in her case presumptively 'too much', such as the
following made matters considerably worse: "Every culture on Earth has
chubby, jolly red-nosed persons; this is a win-win job creator."

But Klaus hadn't risen to the (literal) pinnacle of world commerce by
being inflexible; when his investors for the huge IPO [he had
shamelessly seized upon the standard 'red herring' descriptor to his
prospectus as a sign that it was destined for success----'in the joyous
spirit of giving' he had exclaimed, albeit drunkenly, at a major press
conference] balked, he shocked Wall Street by effectively implying that
those analysts less than enthusiastic were toying---yes, toying---with
placement on the dreaded 'naughty, not nice' list, in their own
language, 'delisting' from its obverse haven, 'boys and girls who had
gotten with the goddam program!'

Flush with public capital, he reached out to the most logical fixer of
his 'problem'-----a certain G.R. Inje, a mysterious miracle man of
international reputation.

In record time, the bad press morphed to unabashed praise, especially
from the endless factions who had more sheepishly sought to exploit the
long-forgotten birthday celebration this meg-holiday had become:
officially renaming said holy-day 'X-mas', political correctness &;
thinly-veiled multiculturalism providing comfortable cover.

All over the world, from Israel to Bagdad to Beijing, observation of
this now unrecognizable holiday became not only acceptable, but
'profitable', yet another 'bread &; circus' fixture where little of
either had prevailed before.

Mrs. 'K', now hailed as 'Miss X-Rated with Mas, Muchas Mas' was the
hottest centerfold in a spate of off-color skin magazines.

And, last, but certainly 'least', in the schema foisted on them by Mr.
Inje, the elves settled for a slice of the profits from the
exploitation of their (vastly more powerful) counterparts of St.
Patrick's Day, the 'little people' and all appurtenant
merchandising.

The coup de grace, however, pointed out by the compliant Wall Street
Chronicle, published by a large concentration of 'good little boys and
girls', was the clever melding of the traditional colors of red and
green in what was otherwise the grandest shafting of the old St. Klaus
since he slid down the chimney of a home near you.