by TW Brown
11
Dear Santa, et al.:
As you may remember, we met in December at my Coretel Antarctica HQ over hot chocolate to discuss possible strategies for this year’s Pole to Pole Fund gala. How privileged I felt then to have met you despite the horrible incident with your employee Frost. When I presented your bold ideas at Coretel’s preliminary PPF committee meeting in January everyone came away impressed. However, this is not why I am contacting you.
I’m e-mailing you from quarantine in St. Bernard’s Hospital to advise you of important issues pertaining to your December visit. You may not have heard, but I gave up my position as CEO of Coretel as soon as HR became aware of my health emergency.
Be advised that I consider you and your elf Frost responsible for my loss of work, pain and suffering. Frost harbors one of the nastiest contagious diseases it has been my displeasure to acquire. Why you allow any of your staff free reign to nip at people, well, I haven’t a clue.
I urge you to bring your elves, in particular that Frost, to the nearest hospital for a full range of tests and do a thorough sterilization of your own headquarters. Get the livestock checked too. My attorney will want the results of those tests for my lawsuit. If it were up to me, I’d have Frost put down like a rabid penguin. You may expect the legal paperwork to arrive shortly. Nothing personal.
You’ve repeatedly denied Frost is your employee after the nipping incident, even going so far as to say he’s nothing but an adversarial business associate. I don’t buy it. He was clearly a part of your entourage. Thanks to your hell-spawned elf, my body, nails and hair have now turned a translucent blue color with all my veins grotesquely visible under the skin. What’s worse, I can eat nothing but snow. Snow! I crave it so badly. The doctors can’t figure out how I’m still alive after two months of nothing but snow in me. Thank God the hospital is near an abundant supply. They have the snow brought into my room in disposable buckets which they later incinerate.
This is what’s left of my life. I’m a living icicle strapped to a bed here with wires and sensors monitoring my signs. Apparently, I’m dead at heart but my brain and extremities are fully functional.
They call me a Christmas miracle. Hah!
Given that I’ve already signed over my Power of Attorney, it will be my heirs benefitting from my lawsuit against you and your Frost, more from obligation to family than any love for them since lately I’m feeling as cold about people as this snow bucket. I have serious doubts I’ll survive long enough to see my legal victory. In the event I do survive and find a way to leave this hospital room, I won’t forget who put me in here in the first place. You can let your buddy Jack know that.
Do me one favor, Santa. Next time you feel like coming to town, don’t.
I remain,
Truly pissed at my Blue Christmas,
Erin Core, Sr.
Founder
Coretel Antarctica
12
Dear Santa,
Christmas is coming and I know that it is a time for us to spend with our family, but I just couldn’t help myself. They tasted so good that just had to continue until I had eaten everyone or they left me. My husband tried to kill me when I went after him but he looked sooo tastey I just couldn’t help myself. Now I am not only lonely but I am beginning to not be able to feel my fingers and my toes and I think it is spreading. They locked me in this house so I wouldn’t eat them and for some reason my fingers just wont work enough to turn the door knob and let me out. Well, at least it will be easier for you to find me when you come for Christmas since I can’t leave any more.
I am really hoping that you get this letter Santa cause I am lonely and hungry. I have been good this year, well, for the most part. Is anyone ever THAT good that they can say they are without any reservations? But I have tried – really hard. I didn’t want to hurt Jenifer. I tuned out the screams of pain that emanated from when I ripped into her arm. Was I wrong for just wanting to eat and fill this emptiness that is so deep inside of me? But I need more, Santa. I want someone to talk to, and to play with, and I want something to eat.
I know that you might not be able to actually GIVE me someone to eat. That sounds really creepy and gross doesn’t it? Well, if you can’t do that, could you maybe just open the front door for me so I can get out and get to them myself? If you do I promise to only eat people on your naughty list. That would help you, right?
Thank you, Santa. I love you! I will try to find some cookies or something for you to eat when you get here – unless you want to share…
