Stripper Christmas is where Santa pays you to sit on his lap.
And, as adulthood usually goes, an opportunity to make a wish is usually squandered and instead the adult chooses to air his grievances.
Absolutely no photographs are taken.
In fact, if you try, a gargantuan elf will emerge from the dark, snatch your phone, delete the evidence and promptly return your device to you.
SANTA: I feel like I live in this fantasy world... But lately I've been yearning for something more... something REAL.
STRIPPER ELF: That sounds really tiring.
(SANTA gazes at STRIPPER ELF's shiny blonde hair.)
SANTA: You're so easy to talk to. I'd love to take you for a hot chocolate sometime.
STRIPPER ELF: I can buy my own hot chocolate.
STRIPPER ELF: Listen, Santa... maybe it's the North Pole that's getting you down. It's a high pressure environment where all the stripper elves are working really hard. We're busy! We aren't really looking for companionship... especially outside of the Werkshop.
SANTA: I'm just so lonely!
(SANTA sips the dregs of a Sam Adams Winter Lager)
SANTA: Sometimes I feel like Mrs. Claus keeps discouraging me from retiring so she can keep me out of the house, and so she can maintain the lifestyle she's gotten quite comfortable with. She likes expensive yarn. She won't even crochet a goddamn doily unless it's free range alpaca.
STRIPPER ELF: Time's up, Santa Baby... do you want to stay for another carol?
SANTA: I'd better not. Thank you for your time.
SANTA hands STRIPPER ELF a wad of five dollar bills.