Santa looked at himself in the mirror. It was all still there. The huge, white beard. The big, red clothes. The same, old stomach.
Suddenly one of the little elves in their usual green clothes came over and said, "They are all ready to go. Will you fire the gun yourself?"
The gun was fired, and all of the Santas ran towards their sleighs and hurried out with their reindeers into the open snow. Santa Claus stood behind, watching them fly to each of their directions. He knew that there would be two elves for each man, watching that none of them tried to cheat. Once when someone had cheated, there had been one of the greatest trials in the entire history of earthlings. Santa still wished he could have changed the sentence... Execution!
He walked back into his deskroom, closed and locked the door, and sat down behind his desk. There he started fiddling with his start-gun. The only purpose he had left, was to fire it every Christmas Night. The rest of the time all of the elves and the hired Santaes would prepare for next years Christams Night. It had all turned into business. They even bought the presents now. All the mines, oildrills, shops, factories, etc... They all was meant to collect cash so that they could give the presents to the children all over the world. Oh, how he hated it. The whole, rotten system. Almost all of the elves had turned greedy. If they didn't get money, they didn't work.
He looked at his start-gun, his only purpose. Oh, how he missed the wind through his hair, the enjoyment of the rides, and all the happy laughs from the children he had met by accidents. How had he lost it? How had it all started? He knew the answer. If he just hadn't asked that young elf about what could be done better... Oh, what a mistake that had been. In just about five years Santa Claus Incorporate had grown to one of the biggest industries ever. And on the top, where Santa should have been, there was a bunch of American investors who didn't bother to ask him anything about what they should do next.
Santa looked at his start-gun once again. Then he threw it into the garbage can on his right side. He opened the drawer, picked up his other gun,
the real one wich he had been given for self protection.
Outside, the elf that had suggested it all, came and knocked on the door. He got no answer, so he knocked again.