M.I.A.~A Christmas Tragicomedy

A whodunit story in the first degree,
Missing in action, what a mystery.
Santa has helpers, called jolly elves,
Manufacturing toys, stored on plethora of shelves,

For all the good children all over the land,
Santa was thankful for the helping hand.
Now one particular elf if I can recall,
Was the cheekiest of them all.

Enjoyed sitting in Santa’s special chair,
He'd state, "Well it's comfy there.
I feel like a royal king,
In this grand overstuffed thing”.

The story goes that one day that glistened,
This certain little elf had just gone a missin'.
His hat and belled shoes strewn in Santa's chair,
Everyone shocked to see them just lying there.

Santa released the basset hound,
To see if the little elf could be found.
But sadly, not even a trace of him,
Losing hope as the twilight grew dim.

Rumors floated, of a bloody demise,
The gossip came as no surprise.
Stunned by the ideas of act of violence,
Santa asked for a moment of silence.

Some swore, they still heard a voice,
As Santa stood by his chair of choice,
Santa being rather a jolly ole lout,
Couldn't seem to figure out,

Why his signature Santa suit,
Kept calling him, fat brute.
With defeat Santa prepared to go,
But wait Santa! There’s something you should know!

Pointing, with a collective gasp, and abject stare,
Santa wondered why the elves gaped at his derriere.
Finally, turning in the mirror he looked back,
Spying the cheeky elf, in his butt crack.