ELVES SEEK ASYLUM AS NORTH POLE HORROR REVEALED

By Dinky Spangler, Proboscis Elf Affairs Correspondent

THE NORTH POLE—Following a daring escape through the frozen wasteland of the north, several dozen elves have requested political asylum in Canada, bringing with them concrete proof of the brutal reality of life under the Santa Claus regime.

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Escape is forbidden. Elf border guards have orders to shoot on sight.

“It’s a constant nightmare,” says Cinnamon Sparkle, one of the elf defectors. “Once you’re in Christmas Land, you belong to the Fat Man. He rules the North Pole with an iron fist. He controls your reality. There’s no news from the outside, no television, no books. Hollywood movies are banned, under penalty of death. Sure, we can burn the movies onto DVD so he can give them to the good little girls and boys, but if we watch one, he’ll feed us to the polar bears.”

According to the defectors—who have brought corroborating video evidence to UN authorities in Canada—the entire North Pole is a virtual prison. Elves work fifteen hour days, slaving in the North Pole’s toy factories, making the toys that Santa distributes to first-world children every Christmas Eve. Elves live in poverty and squalor, often lacking even the most basic necessities, such as running water, blankets, or access to medical care. Disease and malnutrition is rampant. When elves are too old, weak, or sick to work, they’re callously disposed of, rendered down into lard that’s later used to grease cookie pans.

From his mansion atop Claus Mountain, the Fat Man heads a cult of personality that tolerates no deviation from the party line: Santa Claus rules by divine right, the God-King of the North Pole.

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According to reliable sources, Santa’s appetite for cocaine and Cristal is matched only by his thirst for hookers and elf bloodsport.

While his subjects live in utter poverty, Santa Claus himself lives a life of luxury, conspicuously consuming all of the first-world products that he denies his citizens. According to reports, Santa owns a fleet of luxury cars, a yacht, a private jet, multiple palaces, and properties throughout the world. There are rumors that he keeps a harem of she-elf sex slaves that are passed around like party favors at debauched gatherings for members of the Claus’s inner circle. At these exclusive parties, top-shelf alcohol flows like water, cocaine falls like a blizzard, and caviar sprays like … like fish eggs sprayed from a sturgeon’s cloaca. Because that’s exactly what caviar is.

No dissent is tolerated in Christmas Land, a world where even the slightest questioning of the status quo can get an elf—along with his entire elf family—sent off to a lengthy sentence in the peppermint mines, to Claus reeducation centers, or worse. Anything resembling a challenge to authority is mercilessly crushed. Secret Elf Police have spies everywhere, and even a hint of less-than-total enthusiasm is seen as treason. “My little cousin, she was thirteen,” says one of the defectors. “All she said was that her green elf cap didn’t match her eyes. She was just a kid! She loved Santa. Santa was her world. All she wanted was a different color hat! But that was enough for the Secret Elf Police. I don’t know how they heard, but a few nights later, they came for her. They sent her off to—” The elf breaks down sobbing. A moment later, he manages to finish, his voice tinged with dread. “They sent her to . . . the reindeer games. When those bloodthirsty antlered bastards were done with her, there wasn’t enough left to fit in a Christmas stocking.”

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The storybooks never told you the real reason why Rudolph has a red nose.

Watchdog agencies have long suspected Santa Claus of human rights violations, but this is the first time elf-citizens have managed to escape with hard proof of the hellish conditions at the North Pole. “It was a grueling trip. We suffered terrible losses. But we had to. We couldn’t live one more Christmas under that madman’s boot. We trekked hundreds of miles through frozen boreal forest, and across open tundra. The Claus’s elf-death-squads were on our trail the whole time.” Out of fifty elves who bravely cut the barbed wire fence around the North Pole and made their escape, only twenty-two made it to safety. Along the way, members of their party were shot by border guards, savaged by roving polar bear patrols, and succumbed to the freezing cold. “The bells, God, the bells! The Christmas bells! Ding-dong, ding-dong, I still hear those bells in my nightmares.”

Despite public outrcry and worldwide condemnation, the Santa regime denies any wrongdoing. Recently, a coalition of world leaders was forced to back down from imposing strict sanctions and a no-fly zone, after Santa’s envoys delivered a strongly worded threat to fill stockings the world over with coal.

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