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A Letter from Santa

Author unknown

Dear Danny,

Once again, it's Christmas time. I know that you want me to visit your house on Christmas Eve, and I'm fully aware of what you'd like to find beneath the tree. I know these things because, well, because I'm Santa Claus.

But there are a few things we need to discuss before Christmas eve, such as your actions and your deeds throughout the past year- your attitude towards others, and the way you carry on. I'm sure that you feel deserving of each and every toy you've asked for so we'll discuss those as we discuss your behavior.

Do you really think you need a slingshot? Do you remember hiding in the shed after you had thrown rocks through your neighbor's windows, and saying that if you ever got out of this one, you'd never do it again. Don't you think receiving the same weapon that David used to slay Goliath would be tempting fate? I'm just asking, of course, but don' t count on the slingshot.

And let's see, as I recall you wanted a sled. Now there's a fun toy, basically harmless in the hands of a responsible kid, and it's something you could share with all of your friends. The only problems, Danny, are that you're not responsible, you wouldn't share, and you don't have any friends. Let's forget about the sled, as it would only cause problems.

Danny, your request for all the kids in China to receive a Pokemon was, at first, admirable. Then I realized that you aren't wanting those kids to be happy at all. Since the overnight influx of Japanese merchandise into China would cause the largest trade deficit the world has ever seen, your "help" would crush the Chinese economy. Well, I'm gonna "help" you, you little fuck. I'm taking back the BB gun.

You asked for some catnip scented toys for your kitty cat. How nice of you to consider the cat at this most joyous time of the year. Do you know what your cat asked for, Danny? Do you have any idea? Your cat asked for me not to bring any catnip, because that's what you use to lure cats to their demise. You know what I'm talking about; playing "Flush the Kitty", "Cat-tastrophe", and all your other silly games that cause either physical harm or irreparable mental damage to the four-legged kind. For your part in this insane plot, I'm nixing the new hard drive. Matter of fact, nothing hard for you this Christmas; and I think you know what I mean!

You've made promises to control your temper and I like this. But you've made this promise nearly every year, and every year, just before Christmas, you've thrown a temper tantrum of some kind. Danny, Danny, Danny. I know that you believe in me, but I'm finding it extremely difficult to believe in you. Why can't you keep your promises, Danny, why? And why can't I believe in you? Well Danny, for making a promise to be good, I'm bringing you a brand new bicycle. But for breaking that same promise - and I know that you will - I'm hauling that shiny mother fucker back up the chimney, and I'm giving it to someone else. HO HO HO, Hee Hee Hee, Har-de-har-har!

They say that imitation is the sincerest form of flattery, and damned if you don't resemble me in some ways. But do you think that I'm impressed with your boring, lackluster imitation of me? Do you think that it'll get you more toys? Hell, Danny, anyone can have long hair and a bushy beard. So ain't you a Big Fucking Deal! I'm not impressed, but in fact, I'm insulted. Your charade has been uncovered, and I'm marking off the train set. And the skates.

As a matter of fact, you little sonofabitch, everything's gone.Everything you asked for and everything you'd hoped for is gone, gone, gone... The toys, Christmas, everything. I don't want to have to haul all that shit down your chimney and then haul it back up again. I'm old and I'm tired and I don't even feel like doing it for the good little boys and girls, let alone a shameless dick head such as yourself. Danny,you little meat-beater, you have single-handedly screwed up Christmas for the whole world. I oughta come down there and beat the living hell out of you . Matter of fact I will, and if you're still standing afterwards, then you can bite my ass.

Merry Christmas,
Santa

 

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Thomas Bätzler, Thomas@Baetzler.de
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