Letter to Santa: I'm on to You, Fat Man

Saint Nick, I am writing you this letter, while setting at my favorite desk chair. whether or not I actually own more than one desk chair irrelevant. What is relevant though is that this chair was an acquisition, one of many I might add, acquired with with my own money.

As an adult, I try to refrain from asking for hand outs. I'm not above asking for a little help here and there. For the most part, earning things is just as great as receiving a gift. Gifts are a sign of appreciation, as well as acknowledgment of ones accomplishments. I've received neither from the likes of you, Butterball.

Parents tell their children that Santa "Watching you while you sleep" Claus, only gives god children gives for Christmas. The bad kids either get coal to toss in the fire place, or nothing at all. I must have been mistaken for some poor sap who fell into the latter category, because I've received nothing but big ole' chunks for my troubles.

Now Granted, I was never really the most well behaved child. I used to get suspended a lot at one point, got into fights, and even picked my nose during class photos. I knew a guy who picked other people' noses during class photos, and he got hat he wanted for Christmas that year. Why the bias treatment?

My parents upheld their end of the deal. I stooped getting into trouble, and they hooked me up with cool stuff I didn't even ask for. They are awesome. You on the other hand, Mr. Claus, are the opposite of awesome.

There are three things that no mere mortal should ever do in this world. Number one: Tug on on the cape of popular fictional character, Superman. Number two: Openly talk about how many times you've mooned local police officers during Click it or Ticket stops. and finally: Never cross me.

You, overgrown albino ground squirrel looking sack of flesh, you have done everything within your power to tick me off at every turn. There's been nothing disappointment from day one with you. First, you mess up my parents roof when I was 5 yeahs old, with your big stupid look sled. I'm thinking the people at Hummer used the blueprints form that thing to create their inefficient vehicles.

Three years later, I went outside to play in the snow on Christmas morning, only to several mounds of feces from an unidentified creature. It was disgusting. My older siblings threw up multiple times watching out dog dispose of the dropping in his own little special was(by eating it.)

What did I want for Christmas the following year? I wanted the goofy looking elk, hauling obese peter pan behind them, to not eat cans of pork and beans before coming to my house. If it wasn't the reindeer, tell those elves to get anger management classes. It's you they should be mad at for over working them, not me.

How about a little compromise? You quit proving me right every change you get, and I'll stop leering at your minions who wear your silly get up and swarm the malls every December. That fair? I think so. Even if you disagree, I refuse to play along with your petty games any longer. Get a hobby and leave me be already.