Organizer: Pssst…pssst.
Sam ignores him.
Organizer: Hey. Psssssst.
Sam (perturbed): What?
Organizer: What’s your name?
Sam: Sam.
Organizer: Sam what?
Sam: Sam the Elf.
Organizer: You been here long Sam the Elf?
Sam: Look mister, I’m just trying to do my job here. You’ll do the same if you know what’s good for you.
Organizer: What are you afraid of?
Sam: I'm not afraid. Just let me do my hammering.
Organizer: How long you worked here?
Sam: You ask a lot of questions. Kind of tall too. What are you, like six foot?
Organizer: Three-ten
Sam: Bullshit. You’re six foot if you’re an inch.
Organizer: Look, forget about me. How long you worked here?
Sam: I don’t know. I’ve never done anything else.
Organizer: No shit? What’s the fat man pay you?
Sam: Pay? What do you mean pay?
Organizer: Aw, come on. You know—pay—cash, dinero, dollars…benefits?
Sam: Uhm…honestly mister, I don’t know what you’re talking about. (points) Hand me that nail.
Organizer: How many elves in this shop?
Sam: Eight.
Organizer: What kind of production you put out? Numbers.
Sam: Five, six billion.
Organizer (incredulous): Ever since you’ve been here?
Sam: Nope. Annually.
Organizer (disbelieving): Jeezus! What kind of hours you put in?
Sam: Hours?
Organizer: Time. You know, how long do you work at a stretch?
Sam: We never stop. (points) Screwdriver please.
Organizer: Phillips head or…
Sam: Flat head. Right there.
Organizer (realizing): Holy shit! You never stop?
Sam: Nope. And keep it down.
Organizer: Why? What are you so afraid of?
Sam: You’ve never seen the old man pissed off, have you?
Silence.
Sam (cont.): Well believe you me, you don’t want to. And don’t even get me started on his old lady. (whispers) Bitch makes Grinch’s old lady look like Snow White.
Organizer: What does he do when he's pissed?
Sam lifts up his shirt to reveal thick red welts on his back.
Organizer: Oh my God!
Sam: That was for not making my quota. Doesn't treat him like that.
Organizer: Who?
Sam: Who do you think? Rudolph. Fuckin' prima donna.
Organizer: That’s barbaric.
Sam: That’s nothing. They took Galdorf away last week. No one’s seen him since.
Organizer: Galdorf? Where did they take-
Sam: Hell if I know. If you haven’t noticed this is the North Pole. It’s a vast wasteland of white out there. Forty below on a good day. I don’t even like to think about it. Now leave me alone.
Organizer: Man, you have to do something. And I can help you.
Sam: No. I’m done talking to you. How’d you get in here anyway?
Organizer: I uh…I interviewed. Today’s my first day. Do you know what a union is?
Sam (freezes): Did you say…(whispers) union?
Organizer: Yeah. You know what that is?
Sam (looks around): No, but that’s what got Galdorf in deep shit. He was talking about unions.
Organizer: I know. My organization sent him here.
Sam: I knew it. He was way too tall.
Organizer: He was a friend of mine.
Sam: Hey man, I’m sorry about your friend and all, but there’s nothing I can-
Sam puts his head down, begins sawing.
Organizer: What’s the matter?
Sam (whispers): Shut up. In the doorway. The old man.
Santa walks over to Sam and the Organizer. He’s accompanied by two rather large gentlemen in silk suits, Bruno and Gino.
Santa (unemotional): Sam, who’s your friend?
Sam continues sawing.
Santa (to Organizer): I know you mister?
The Organizer lunges at Santa; Santa’s thugs catch him and take him down; all the elves stare wide-eyed.
Organizer (screaming, struggling): You fat fuck! Where’s Galdorf!
Santa (calm): You mean that union instigator? Is that who you mean?
Organizer: You know goddamn good and well that’s who I mean! And call off your gorillas!
Santa looks around the shop.
Santa (deliberate, very cold): Everyone? Over here. Put your tools down for a moment and give me your undivided attention. We have an interloper here. A union rep.
Gasps from the assembled elves.
Santa (cont.): And you know what we do with union troublemakers, right? Especially the tall ones?
More gasps.
Santa (cont.): That’s right, we let Bruno and Gino here initiate them. Our way. The Kringle way. Have at it boys.
With that Bruno and Gino proceed to pummel the Organizer bloody until he is an unrecognizable pile of flesh in the middle of the shop, the blood trickling away from his body in long streams and coagulating in the sawdust. The two thugs then grab the Organizer’s lifeless body by the arms and drag him out of the shop.
Santa (cont.): Back to work everyone, show’s over. Sam? A moment please?
Sam swallows hard, takes off his tool belt, stares at the floor and follows Santa out of the shop.


Salon.com
Comments
We are Santa's elves!
Filling Santa's shelves!
I think it's time to exercise the terms of the Ricoh Act on his ass.
G