Santa Claus
Page 3
Take it from me,
SANTA
Hello Santa,
As I’m writing this I can’t help thinking how dumb the world is. You completely disguised yourself. Living in the coldest place on earth using elves. Tell me, how much do you pay the mafia to keep you quiet? After all, an anagram for Santa is Satan. Hmm. How much would you pay me to be quiet? Just to show you I love you I’ll take a European country, preferably Italy. I might as well rule the mafia too.
Sincerely,
(ME) Soon to be ruler of the earth (or at least Italy)
P.S. You know who I am.
P.P.S. And to all the stupid earth people, think about coal. How do you keep Hells firers running? Coal. So who would have coal? Satan. And who gives out FREE coal (no matter how expensive)? Santa. Think about it.
Obviously,
Faith, 5th grade
P.P.P.S. Santa favors bad children since coal can be sold for money. While the good little kids sit around staring at the hot wheels cars the bad kids are buying million dollar estates. Hmmm. I wonder, Satan would favor bad kids. They end up lawyers.
Dear Faith,
You’re one of those smart people who just doesn’t realize how stupid you actually are. You over-think every aspect of life to the point where you come to believe idiotic things like the Mafia killed Kennedy, aliens landed at Roswell, and the Iraq war wasn’t about oil or petty revenge. You take moronic coincidences like my name being an anagram for Satan as concrete proof that it’s true. The reason I leave coal for bad kids is that there’s NOTHING a kid can do with just a single rock of it.
As less intelligent kids go on to be far more happy and successful than you, you’ll become increasingly bitter and delusional, blaming everyone but yourself for the crappy place your life has taken you. So hold onto the lump of coal I’ll be bringing you this year. If you’re not successful at selling it to someone for a million dollars, let it serve as a reminder that the only person responsible for your life sucking is you.
You heard it here first,
SATAN
(oops...I mean Santa)
Dear Santa,
I need a new pair of pants because I ripped them and now I’m in my yellow polka dot bunny butterfly flower smiley face underwear.
From,
April
Dear April,
You only own one pair of pants? You have bigger problems than I can help solve.
Thanks for writing!
SANTA
Dec. 24, 2001
Dear Santa,
Hi I’m kylie Barker! I was just wondering how do you get the presents? Do you order them? Do you make them? This year for Christmas I would like a Wii,
Laptop, Webkinz, and clothes. Tell the elves, Mrs.
Claus, and the reindeer I said hi! Have a nice BREAK!
Love Always,
Kylie
P.S. How do you get down the chimney?!
Hi Kylie,
Honestly, don’t you think you should have written to me a little earlier? A letter cobbled together on the afternoon of Christmas Eve is hardly going to get to me on time—especially given the incompetence of the US Postal Service. I once mailed a package in Manhattan that was addressed to my literary agent (look for my autobiography coming soon!) just thirty blocks away. It took TEN DAYS to get there!!
As for how I get the presents, I have them made in China just like everyone else. Their handwork is so tiny I’d almost swear they were using children to do it. And I’m not sure what they put in their paints, but the colors are so vibrant they almost make my head spin. Best of all, I don’t have any of the labor union issues I used to have with the elves.
Take THAT, Toymaker’s Local Seven!
SANTA
Dear Santa,
Hey big guy, I’ve been waiting all year to write you this letter again. I hope you know that I’ve been a really good boy this whole entire year, well, except for the one time that I pushed Bryan down the stairs because he punched my best friend in the face. Bryan deserved it, so you can’t punish me too bad, I know I was very wrong and I went to detention for three weeks because of it!!!
Anyway, this year for Christmas, I want only a few things. I don’t want to be greedy because I know there’s a lot of other kids out there that deserve more things than I do, you should give more to them than me because I got a lot of things last year anyway.
Starting with the biggest thing I want, it’s this Tonka truck that I saw on this commercial once, it was big and yellow, and I could drive all my friends around in it; well, one at a time, but still. All the kids in the commercial looked very happy, and all year I was imagining one of those kids being me. The next thing I want is this really cool army hat I saw when I was shopping with my mom once. It’s the coolest hat in the world, and I can’t wait to get it!
The last thing I want for Christmas are these really cool power ranger weapons that are amazing. My friend Jory has them, and I play with them all the time, I think he gets mad. I want him to stop getting mad at me, so I really hope you can find them, or make them up at the North Pole…they are so cool. Once you see them, you’ll know exactly what I mean!
Well Santa, I know my list is short, but that’s all that I want this year. I hope you’ll be able to bring me everything I asked for.
Thank you,
Mark
Dear Mark,
Don’t you think you’re a little old to still be writing to me? I mean, you’re eighteen for Chrissake! And that wasn’t a Tonka truck you saw in that commercial recently. It was a Humvee, and the happy guys you saw riding in it were doing an ad for the Army. That’s where the cool hat comes in, too. And you’ll be getting both of them even sooner than Christmas, minus the body armor of course. The National Guard program you joined to get out of sixth period study hall is rolling out to Iraq next month. Of course, you won’t be armed with the Power Ranger weapons they promised you when you signed up. I actually have them up at the North Pole ready to go. Unfortunately, my bid to produce them for the Army was rejected, despite coming in lower than anyone else’s. The winning bidder, Haliburton, should have them ready for you in about ten years—assuming you last that long.
Good luck!
SANTA
DEAR SANTA,
I HOPE YOU LIKE MY COOKIES AND MILK CAN YOU NAME ALL YOUR REINDEER TELL MRS. CLAUS HEY HOW ARE YOUR ELVES DO YOU DECORATE OR DO YOU PUT UP TREE
BYE SANTA
MALI MCKEE
P.S. SAY WHATSUP TO YOUR REINDEER
Dear Mali,
Punctuation is an amazing thing. Take the following sentence:
No presents will be coming this year for Mali McKee.
The insertion of just one single comma can turn this from being your worst Christmas ever to one of your best. What? You never paid any attention in school when they were teaching you about commas? Or spelling? Or basic punctuation? Well isn’t that a shame?
Better luck next year!
SANTA
Dear Santa,
hello I am 9 and I would like 3 things
#1. A book set, #2.new arts and crafts, and #3
a couple webkinz.
How does your sled work? Did you know that
Christmas is my favorite holiday!
Love,
Liv 9
Dear Liv,
I’ll be curious to hear if Christmas is still your favorite holiday after this year. As requested, I’ll be bringing you the following:
#1 The Internal Revenue Service 1991 Tax Code (all eighteen volumes in the set!)
#2 The Junior Jackson Pollack Paint-By-Number Kit
#3 The carcasses of half a dozen insects I’ve carefully extracted from the spider web that hangs in the corner of my office
At age 9 you should know how to phrase your requests more precisely.
Ask and ye shall receive!
SANTA
Dear Santa,
Hi! I want a puppy for Christmas. How do your elves make gifts? I hope I have been a good boy
. I love my parents. Do you? Please come to my house. Do you like puppys? I hope I can see you!
You friend,
Henry Sellers
Dear Henry,
What an unusual question. Do I love my parents? To be honest, I really hadn’t thought of them in years. Most people assume I’m an orphan thanks to the efforts of a publicity agency I hired back in the 1950’s. They suggested going with the whole orphan thing as a way of mythologizing my past and creating an aura of mystery about my origins. The truth is that I did have parents. From an early age they trained me in the art of toy making. But did they ever let me play with the toys I created? No. They made me give them all away. Did it make me bitter? You bet. Did I take on the role of toymaker to the world in an attempt to win the favor of two nasty parents who ultimately would never be satisfied no matter how many toys I made and gave away?
Now that I finally look at it that way, I see that what I’ve been doing is merely an attempt to gain the love of parents whose love was never attainable in the first place. There’s no point in me making and delivering all of these toys. I see that now. Finally, I’m free of this onerous task. And I owe it all to you, Henry.
Free at last,
SANTA
PS: Whenever children ask me why I no longer bring them toys, I’ll say it’s all thanks to Henry Sellers of Evanston, Illinois.
Dear Santa,
I would like an iPod, MP3
player, 50 movies, and a
Nintendo PS Lite. I also
want a Game Cube. How do your reindeer fly?
Sincerely,
Adelina Forte
Dear Adelina,
My reindeer are able to fly because their muscles haven’t atrophied from the inaction that comes from spending all of one’s time on one’s ass playing video games, listening to music and watching 50 movies. Maybe you should ask for some presents that require a little physical activity. It may do wonders in staving off the diabetes that will strike you at fourteen, and the heart attack that will bring you down at twenty. Laying off the donuts might help, too.
It’s never too late,
COACH SANTA
Dear Santa,
I would like a tender Electric suitar Laptop and Cellphone for Christmas. and in school I would like good grades in science + a little more freedom at home. from,
Emily not Emma
P.S. Jell Roudolph I said “Hi!”
Dear Emily not Emma,
As far as I know, Fender doesn’t make an Electric Guitar Laptop, although it does sound like something I would like for myself if they do decide to produce one. Similarly, they also don’t produce a cell phone, so I’m afraid you’re shit-out-of-luck on those requests. If Rudolph existed, he might tell me that you meant to put a comma after the word Guitar, which would have given a whole new meaning to your wish list. But he doesn’t exist. Sorry.
That brings us to your next request: good grades in science. Since science is increasingly irrelevant in your country, I’m not sure why you care. Your public schools have never exactly been on the cutting edge of science to begin with, and since they’ve eliminated everything from the curriculum that offends the various pinheads in your community, I think the only lessons left in your science books involve photosynthesis and gravity—although I suspect gravity will soon be dropped as well. Get it? Gravity…dropped! Oh, never mind.
As for your final wish for more freedom at home, good luck with that one. Your parents feel that keeping you a virtual prisoner will prevent you from becoming pregnant as a teenager. Of course, if they bothered to teach you any sex education, you’d be aware that the neighbor boy’s attempt to give you a friendly “inoculation” against liberalism when you’re fourteen will ultimately do nothing to actually save you from the welfare state.
Don’t know much about biology,
SANTA
DEAR SANTA CLAUS,
IN THE SONG “I SAW MOMMY KISSING SANTA CLAUS” DO YOU REALLY KISS MY MOM? AND THANKS FOR EVERYTHING LAST YEAR. THIS YEAR I REALLY DON’T CARE ABOUT THE PRESENTS I GET. I CARE ABOUT THE PRESENTS I GIVE. BY THE WAY HAVE A MERRY CHRISTMAS, AND A HAPPY NEW YEAR.
FROM,
LUCAS, 8 AND A QRTER
Dear Lucas,
I’m often asked this question, to which I usually reply: If I only had the time!
You’ll get that in about ten years.
In the meantime, it’s letters like yours that make me grateful that I can see within your heart. I often get letters from calculating little shits who feed me lines like “I only care about the presents I give” like so many beauty pageant contestants, and if I wasn’t able to see the truth it would leave me in a difficult position. But I can see your sentiments are genuine, and it does warm my heart. I’ll be bringing you a Game Cube and Wii this year, and I hope you have a ball with them.
And if I were to kiss anybody’s mommy it would be yours.
Rrrawr!
SANTA
DEAR SANTA,
How’s THE NORTH POLE? IS RUDOLPH’S NOSE STILL SHINING? I HEARD THAT DANCER HAD THE FLU AND I HOPE THE ELVES TOOK GOOD CARE OF HIM So THAT HE IS ALL BETTER BY CHRISTMAS EVE.
I HOPE I AM ON YOUR NICE LIST THIS YEAR. I KNOW THAT I PULLED MY SISTER’S HAIR A FEW TIMES AND ATE CANDY WHEN MOMMY WASN’T LOOKING, BUT I THINK BESIDES THAT I’VE BEEN PRETTY GOOD. BESIDES, BENJAMIN FROM MY CLASS IS ALWAYS PUSHING BOYS ON THE PLAYGROUND AND EVERY CHRISTMAS HE GETS LOTS OF PRESENTS FROM YOU, So I THINK I SHOULD GET SOME PRESENTS, RIGHT?
I REALLY, REALLY, REALLY WANT A NEW PUPPY. I KNOW THAT MOMMY THINKS I AM NOT GOING To WALK IT ENOUGH BUT I SWEAR I WILL. MY NEIGHBOR, JOSH, ALWAYS PLAYS WITH HIS DOG IN HIS FRONT YARD AND I THINK IT LOOKS LIKE FUN. PLUS I WALKED BY THE PET STORE YESTERDAY AND SAW LOTS OF PUPPIES IN THE WINDOW, AND THEN MY TEACHER TOLD US ALL ABOUT THE DOGS IN THE POUND WHO NEED To BE ADOPTED. I WOULD GIVE THE PUPPY A GOOD HOME (I WANT A GOLDEN RETRIEVER, BUT A BEAGLE WOULD BE OKAY Too.) THANKS SANTA. LOOK OUT For SOME GINGERBREAD COOKIES AT MY HOUSE THIS YEAR. THEY’RE MY FAVORITE So I’LL SAVE A FEW For YOU.
FROM,
TRISTAN
Dear Tristan,
It’s really quite clever how you open your letter with some small talk, and then subtly slip in some minor transgressions as a distraction from the truly awful things you’ve done this year. Does “the pogo stick incident” ring a bell? Sadly, this tendency will serve you well when you make your entry into politics in your late twenties—much to the misfortune of the idiots who elect you. However, the attempt to further bolster your case by calling out the misdeeds of your class-mates is just piling it on too thick. Benjamin’s aggression is merely a conduit for the latent homosexual tendencies that he has yet to even begin to understand. Not that it’s any of your business.
After preparing your case in the most manipulative way possible, you finally reveal that what you want more than anything is a puppy. You claim you’d be happy with a dog from the pound. Well, I’ll tell you right now, you’re not going to be finding any Beagles or Golden Retrievers at your local shelter. What you’ll find there are mutts. They’re more loving, and definitely more intelligent than any purebreds, but the truth is that doesn’t really matter to you. In the superficial manner that will sadly serve you well throughout your life, the most important thing to you is appearance. The mutt that you are going to receive this Christmas will be loving and loyal right up to the moment three months later when your parents return it to the shelter because you’ve rejected it. A week later it will be put to sleep. I truly hope you rot in hell.
Jingle All the Way!
SANTA
Dear Santa
How come you so fat?
Love,
Ashton, aged 8
Dear Ashton,
How come you so rude? Seriously, haven’t your parents taught you any manners? Or grammar?
If you really must know, I’m fat because I love bread, potatoes, pasta and booze. Those four things have been torture when it comes to maintaining a svelte figure. Now, some people
may say I’m an incredible hypocrite the way I chastise others for letting themselves grow fat while doing nothing to maintain my own weight. It’s a fair critique, but it’s really a matter of apples and oranges (neither of which I like eating). You see, I’m immortal. I can eat all the unhealthy shit I want and it’s not going to kill me. The same can’t be said for any of the fat kids who write to me. So this really is a case of “do as I say, not as I do.” I’m only thinking of them as I berate and ridicule them, all the while knocking back a bottle of Dewar’s.
Life ain’t fair,
SANTA
Dear Santa,
Why does the Easter Bunny give us candy but we have to leave you cookies? That doesn’t seem fair and mom says we have to be fair. Dad too.