A Letter to Santa

by Andrew Piskai

Dear Santa,

It gets to be around this time each year when I wonder whether or not you’re all you’re cracked up to be. In fact, due to this increased uncertainty, I’ve more than tripled my daily Scotch intake. To be frank, I’m starting to really have my doubts about you, Kris Kringle. If that is your real name! I’ll have you know that I’m sick and tired of your shenanigans, Saint Nick. I’m tired of the way you shovel cookies down your gob year after year. I’m tired of the way your reindeers never finish the carrots I leave them and how their hoofsteps wake me up each year. Most of all, however, I’m tired of never receiving a reply to any of these Christmas letters. You’re skating on thin ice, fat man.

However, I, in my infinite goodness, will agree to forgive all your egregious offenses against me given they are immediately remedied and corrected. As the alleged Father Christmas, I expect you will be enough of a man to take responsibility for your copious shortcomings. That said– here are my terms, Claus:

Term the first- You shall finally bequeath upon me the golf-cart for which I have always asked. Said whip must be murdered-out, on dubs, and able to be ghost-ridden. I expect this will come as no surprise to you.

Term the second- You shall henceforth ensure that I am provided for regarding the other major holidays by utilizing your ample social standing with fellow icons, specifically the Easter Bunny, Saint Patrick, and Uncle Sam. Tell them I demand lifetime supplies of marshmallow peeps, redheads, and brats (the sausage kind) respectively.

Term the third- You shall, should I choose to grace you with my presence, have a massive parade for me throughout the entire North Pole. I will expect dancing elves, singing reindeer, and a full-cast production of Les Miserables complete with revolutionary ideals.

Term the fourth- You shall, forever more, refer to me as “Thundermuffin, Prince of Coolness” and let me wear the Santa suit to weddings, bar mitzvahs and other formal functions. This includes the hat, but I have a belt.

Term the fifth- You shall, on the eve of every full moon, replenish my stock of Reindeer tears that I utilize as bath-tub water. How you procure them is up to you, however they must be of the utmost quality. Given the multitude of baths I take, this will be perhaps the most difficult term I have provided.

With these considerations, we shall return to being on equal footing once more and my faith in you will be restored. I pray that you come to your senses and hasten to deliver on these terms as this will be the only time I will extend such an offer to you. Consider my offer carefully.

A. T. Piskai

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