"Gary Bettman, Commissioner of Christmas" is a holiday poem, written by Harrison Mooney with illustrations by the inimitable Chloe Ezra. When Santa enlists Gary Bettman to help muscle his elves down to a smaller share of Holiday-Related Revelry, Gary gets more than be bargained for! Can Bettman and the elves agree to a new CBA in time to save Christmas?

Because we love you and because it's Christmas, Puck Daddy offers two ways to experience the poem.

Option 1: Have it read to you by yours truly and Greg Wyshynski (as Gary Bettman!).

Option 2: Read this holiday tale at your own pace, with full illustration but without the silly voices, after the jump:

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In Santa's shop, where Christmastime's the time of year most prized,

The elves' belief in labour rights is often vocalized.

They may be Santa's helpers, and they may be under-sized,

But they stand tall together ever since they unionized.

No elf will tolerate unsafe conditions or abuses,

They all insist on dental, pensions, health care and masseuses.

What's more, they want a cut of snacks that Santa's ride produces:

All chocolate, candy canes and cakes, all milk and Christmas mousses.

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See, Santa doesn't gobble all those cookies on the spot,

Nor does he drink a glass of nog til' all the elves have got

The Holiday-Related Revelry he must allot --

The H.R.R. their bargaining agreement says he ought.

But one day, Santa checked the books, and said, "They've gone too far!"

"Those greedy elves are getting more than half of H.R.R.!"

The children of the world leave out these snacks for me, but our

Arrangement has estranged me from my once-full cookie jar!"

"We must re-work the CBA to fix this fatal flaw,"

He muttered. But he was no labour lawyer -- this, he saw.

"There was an elf," he thought, "Who left the Pole to practice law.

Perhaps he'll represent me." Santa stroked his bearded jaw.

So Santa gathered Cupid, Comet, Vixen and the crew,

Then off to Gary Bettman's house the man and reindeer flew.

"I need a favour, Gary," said he, "What am I to do?"

I need to crush a union. No one does it quite like you."

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"Please help," said Santa, "I've got no ideas whatsoever."

And Gary Bettman nodded, then he promised to endeavour.

He looked the offer over, and said, "Here's a clause to sever:

These lifetime contracts have to go, since elves can live forever.

"And sleigh fuel costs are off the charts. Those reindeers really pack

The butter tarts away! It must be all that weight in back."

Then Bettman said, "It's part of why you're never in the black.

The elves should pay for some of that, since they fill up the sack."

"We'll get 'em," Bettman said, as Santa steered the North-bound herd,

"You'll have your new agreement by December 23rd."

And there, inside the open sleigh, all airborne like a bird,

His title as Commissioner of Christmas was conferred.

So Bettman drafted his proposal, soon thereafter sent,

Informing all the elves they'd now get forty-three per cent

Of Christmas goods. They balked. To show the business that he meant,

He kicked the elves out, locked the shop and, whistling, off he went.

Story continues