One particularly late night, Santa was in his sweatshop overseeing his elves who were working overtime packing and wrapping gifts. Christmas, after all, was only a few days away.
As the elves diligently prepared the presents under the bright fluorescent lights, Santa sat in his office counting his cut in the money made by department store and shopping mall Santas around the world. He was just about to count the profits made by the photography division when in walked a strange elf that he did not recognize. Unlike Santa’s elves, this elf looked much older. He had a full, white beard and was wearing a red and white Christmas sweater and jeans.
“Hello, Santa!” exclaimed the little man. “The name’s Fergus! Ever since I was a wee lad, I had hoped to meet you one day! It’s an honor and a pleasure to finally meet you!”
Santa ignored what was clearly an Irish elf and continued counting his money. He was miffed that someone so wizened, so old, was claiming to have idolized him as a child. And an elf at that!
“Santa, I also have a present for you,” added Fergus. “I hope you like it!”
From seemingly out of nowhere, Fergus pulled out a small package and presented it to Santa. It was wrapped in green and had a red bow on it.
Santa finally glanced up briefly from his work, looking unamused and irritated. “Just place it on my desk,” Santa sighed, “then, sir, you may leave the way you came in.”
Fergus was shocked and hurt. This was not the Santa that he had expected. He realized that the real Santa was not at all nice and jolly as portrayed by the media, but was in fact rude and arrogant. “The name’s Fergus!” the elf repeated indignantly. “And you know what, Mr. Claus? You’re not so great! You could learn to be a lot nicer to others, to treat people with more respect!”
Fergus turned around observing the poor little elves perspiring profusely as they toiled away. “Just take your elves, for example! They work continuously under those harsh lights, without air conditioning or even fans!” Fergus noted. “Do they even get any breaks? Workers are more productive when they get regular bre–”
“HOW DARE YOU presume to tell me how to run my business?!” Santa bellowed, his face bright red with anger. Santa gestured proudly towards his factory sweatshop, where his elves cheerfully whistled Christmas tunes while they worked. “How many businesses do YOU run, you little nothing! I run the most efficient operation in the WORLD, my elves are the most productive employees in the WORLD, and they are happy and grateful for what I provide them! Until YOU run a successful business like I do, you are not allowed to have an opinion much less give me any advice, you hear?! Now you can get to work with the other elves, or get the hell out!!!”
“I am not an elf, I am a leprechaun!” said Fergus, struggling to maintain his composure. “I will leave, but before I do, I have another gift for you. A special gift.” Fergus pulled out a very old looking satchel made out of cloth. He untied the satchel and proceeded to pour some of the contents carefully into his hand. In his hand was a beautiful, shining mound of gold dust.
“Oooooh!” Santa cooed with delight. “NOW you’re talkin’! This is a real gift!” As Santa reached out to touch the gold dust, Fergus took a deep breath and blew–sending a shimmering cloud of gold dust into Santa’s face.
“You dirty little rat!” Santa growled as he furiously wiped gold dust out of his eyes and went into a sneezing fit. “You’ll pay for this, I promise y–ACHOO!”
“Now be patient, Santa, while the magic takes effect,” said Fergus. “In a matter of moments, you will receive your gift–elves with a personality just like yours!”
“GREAT!” Santa said sarcastically still wiping his eyes, “and when I get this dust out of my eyes, you’ll get my FOOT up your ass!” At that very moment, Santa realized that there was no longer any dust in his eyes. And that Fergus had vanished.