Dear Santa,
Y'know, this year I think I've been pretty good, as far as "good" goes. I've eaten all my veggies, apologised to the people I need to (and the people I don't need to), and haven't turned brother dearest into mulch, yet. Heck, for that I'm practically a saint; wouldn't you agree? Well, you would if you lived with "brother dearest". I love the Christmas season and all, but... being rudely awakened by bad Christmas tunes at ridiculous in the morning by an unfortunately resilient, viciously loud plastic jukebox doesn't help my chances of staying on the "nice" list, y'know what I mean?
I'm pretty sure murder makes for an instant transferral.
So, anyway, I'm just writing to say "hi", see if our deal's still on, and ask you for something. Wait, wait! Hear me out for a second! I know what you're thinking, "Everyone's always writing to ask me for stuff! Doesn't anyone bother to just say 'hello' every once and a while?" Next time, I promise. And I'll send a little extra with my next delivery to make it up to you, okay? Fresh-baked.
Also, if you didn't want people asking for stuff every Christmas, why did you even start doing this? What did you expect? A nice, orderly line? Asking politely? Acknowledging limits? Not in this world, Santa baby. Oh, that reminds me; I already told Mrs. Claus: A Facebook Page? Bad idea. BAD idea. I know the elves in PR have their little striped stockings in a twist about "getting with the century" or some cheesy sales pitch like that; but do you know how annoying notifications are, after a while? No idea at all?
Let's put it this way. Here's me, Miss Relatively Quiet, and even I'm not a fan getting poke notifications (before you say anything, I like the pokes, not the notifications). Can you imagine getting 4 billion of them? As well as instant messaging to every last kid with a Facebook account? ALL YEAR ROUND? You'd short out the server in two seconds, tops. Just think on that a bit, and let me know the verdict.
That little thing about our deal? I have you covered. I'll make sure my mum buys extra Andes Mints just for you, and doubles the batch. Mmmn-MMM! Her cookies are the best. See that little smudge on the top left corner? Cookie. Andes Mint cookie. Can't you almost smell it? Taste that gooey, chocolatey goodness that just makes you wanna melt? That pleasant surprise of soft mint? I can make it a reality, for you, Mr. Claus. So as long as you take my bestest friend off the "naughty" list, I'll just keep these coming.
Mmmm, cookies.
As for me, well, I don't want much. Nope. I'm already really darn happy with my life and what I have. I'm blessed with a stable family, friends, and a roof over my head. But... you know what wouldn't hurt? A shamshir. Hey! Just a minute! I know you don't really do weapons- striving for World Peace and all that- but... It would be nice. And I'd understand if it's a little too much to ask after that incident last year (I'm aware that Billie, Benny, Birdie, and Bernard haven't recovered, poor things), so I'd settle for a scimitar. They're gorgeous. Have you seen those things? True beauty in blade form.
Thus concludes my letter! Take care of yourself, okay? Don't overwork the poor elves. Tell Rudolph I said hey, and to let me know if he ever has any trouble with Dasher again. Speaking of whom, has his fur grown back, yet?
Send the Mrs. my regards!
Sincerely,
-Me
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