Montegall, one of Santa’s elves, goes missing, so Santa goes to the Missing Persons Desk at the Federal Bureau of Investigations in Washington, D.C., in order to file a report. When Santa walks into the relevant office in the FBI building, the man working at the Missing Persons Desk kind of raises an eyebrow: “Here’s a guy in a red velour outfit with white fur trim and black shiny boots and a big basically Santa hat, okay…” he’s thinking. What he says is, though, “Hello sir, have a seat please and just go through it from the beginning, starting with the name of the missing person and what have you.” Santa says, “His name is Montegall. Montegall Fistenwharf Glicksenhusk the Ninth.” “Okay, perfect, now can you describe this person,” says the man at the Missing Persons Desk of the FBI. Santa: “Well, he’s a jolly little fellow, sort of elvish.” Man: “Wait a minute…” Man: “Hold on a second here…”
Santa is hanging out with some of the reindeer-in-training one day and he says to one of them, “Xenitar, what is your feeling on getting the surgery where we replace your nose with a christmastree bulb. Rudolph is getting old and will soon need to be put down.” Xenitar goes beet-red and says, “I already got that fuckin surgery!”
“Three times!” says Xenitar.
Mrs. Claus is garnishing a pot-roast with tinsel one evening in preparation for dinner when in walks Zophexylon Minimus Superiorius, one of Santa’s oldest and most trusted elves. Mrs. Claus is all, “Oh, Zophexylon! Better get washed up! Dinner is nearly ready!” Zophexylon Superiorus remains silent, staring. Finally Mrs. Claus leaves the room, weeping. Can you explain Mrs. Claus’s reaction?
Answer: Zophexylon is dead.