On strike? Sure, we're on strike. You think we'd be just standing around smoking cigarettes and shooting the breeze if we weren't? This time of year?! There's toys to be made, fella, and we'd be making 'em if we could. But an elf's got to stand up for himself, so I don't want to hear nothing about all the sad kiddies this Christmas. You go talk to old tubby if you want to complain about that, because he sure won't talk to us.

And don't get me started on what that fat bugger's been doing with all the money, neither, cause if I did, you'd be pretty damned surprised, friend, pretty surprised. 'Course, all's I'd need to do would be to point to that shiny new sleigh he's been scooting around in these days... "old one's too old" my tiny green arse! Since when does Santa Claus need a GPS locator and wet bar on Christmas Eve? Well, let's just say that ever since he's been sneaking out to be with that broad the Tooth Fairy, the spending has been getting pretty loose around here. Yes sir, pretty damn loose by this elf's reckoning.

But I'll say no more on that.

'Tis nice to see someone take notice, though. You know you're the first one to even pay attention to us? No one cares about elves these days. No, I'm serious. When was the last time anyone ever thought of an elf when they open their presents on Christmas Day? Huh? "Oh look, a choo-choo train! I'm so glad we have elves, Mommy, aren't you?" Ha! When pigs fly, chum, when pigs fly.

And between you and me, that'll happen a lot sooner than Dancer, Prancer, Vixen, or that lush Rudolph get off the ground again if we don't get some serious satisfaction, and I don't mean the kind the boss is getting with little Miss Molar, neither.

Do you know how many of our jobs have been outsourced? Well, let's just say a lot of little boat people smaller than us are making the dolls this time around, and if you think there are other job opportunities at the North Pole, you can just go for a roll in the snow. There's making toys, and that's it, unless you want to wash Santa's sleigh or help Mrs. Claus bake cookies, and if you think Kringle's a tight arse, you ain't seen nothing until you try to get into that old battle axe's purse.

Now, sure, I hear talk of them telemarketing companies moving in here, but let's be honest: do you think a squeaky little fart like me is ever going to be hired to work as a phone rep? Ha! Be like talking to a bleeding chipmunk. No sir. We're elves is what we are, and proud of it, my friend. Elves don't deal with billing inquiries. We make toys is what we do, and that jolly red ball of lard can just twiddle his suspenders until he figures that out.

Though, to be honest, I can't say as I miss making more of those Barbie dolls...I mean that whole Barbie/Ken thing always struck me as a little weird, you know? Girl like that should know which way a boy's leaning before she starts making all sweet.

But do you know what he wants us making now? Robosapiens! That or Terrain Twisters, or Quantum Pads. How's an elf to build something like that? We work with wood is what we work with. Yet, I tell you, year after year he brings in one bloody prototype after another, got computer chips in 'em, all made of plastic and composites, leaving us to work overtime just figuring out the blueprints and how to work with bloody Kevlar and the like. Oh and that sure suits old Claus fine. Oh my, yes. "Here you go elves, just brush up on anodized aluminum welding and have yourself a little read here on injection molding, why don't you?" Ha! We're becoming bleeding space engineers! And I don't need to tell you how much them boys are making, and they probably get paid for their overtime in something a little more useful than stale-bloody-cookies!

Ah hell, would you look at me? Getting all worked up like that, when all you does is show a little interest. But let me ask you: would there be any work for a little fella likes myself down your way? Now I know I'm not too tall or nothing, and I don't wants to get into anything kinky, but the way things are going here I just might need me some extra work, you know?

What, the Easter Bunny? Ever seen an elf lay a chocolate egg? In your dreams, pal, in your dreams.