Seion's Letter to Santa

Yo Santa;

It may sound strange at this point that I'm writing to you. In fact, you probably haven't read from me in a good, long while. And I hope they have a good server on the Pole, or you're not gonna read this time either. But let's assume you do have a nice server and you're gonna read this thing.

First and foremost, I would like to settle a matter that may have brought you a little confusion regarding my past correspondence. See, the last time I actually wrote to you thinking it'd get there... well I couldn't really write back then, could I? Seeing as I was never very convinced of your existance and at age four the mystery was over, when they tried to give me bullshit about you coming down the chimney. You know how it is, parents sometimes don't think things through. If they had told me you could park on the roof of the building and deliver presents via the stairway, like any normal and half-respectable thief, I might have bought it. But no, they told me you came in through the chimney. Our chimney back then was about a fist wide. You have to understand, I was four, but I wasn't stupid.

Now, you might have gotten a letter written and signed by myself back in '97, when I was twelve or thirteen. I don't think you do get correspondence from people that age unless they're retarded or gullible to the point of extinction. This is why I would like to explain how that happened. See, in 1997, I had a five year old Kid Bro (which by the way I asked my own father for, didn't need your help there. With all the kids asking for brothers and sisters for Christmas, I assume this night is several times more tiresome for you than it should. I never bought the stork bullshit either, since we're on subject) who was about to live through the first Christmas he was old enough to be excited about. In the spirit of the occasion, my parents wanted to give him all the bullshit I never believed in, so Kid Bro and my Mum wrote a letter (he bought your existance for about a year, Santa, it's as good as it gets in this day and age, feel proud of yourself). Kid Bro was kinda upset back then that his sister wasn't writing a letter to Santa too, see, so by order of my Mum, I had no choice but to comply. If you'll recall (because I do), the header was "Dear Mock-Santa". Don't take it personally. I was twelve, but still not stupid. That would come much later.

So now I'm 23, but shit hasn't changed much since I was four. I'm about as large as you by now, both on height and width, and at the rhythm I smoke, won't be long until we share a similar tone of voice. I'm actually writing this letter because I do have a request for you. As for being a good girl all year long... well. Let's not kid ourselves. I'm more likely on your "Pissed and Mean as Hell" than your "Goody Two-Shoes" list. Still single here, though I am happy to see shit's been good for you in the past decade or so. Not only did they give you a Mother Christmas (which is often depicted as a mix between Little Red Riding Hood's grandmother and Martha Stewart before she was arrested) but also several "elves" and "Santa's helpers" who happen to be D-cup gifted blondes. So I trust you've been kept nice and warm, because the Pole must be cold as crow. The Coca-Cola deal also seems to be working well on your behalf, or you really like red, because as I recall, you used to dress up in green. If you ever think of turning back, take this advice: 7Up might be wanting a spokesman soon. Nobody finds that Fido guy cool anymore, the 90's are over. Guarana isn't a bad pick either.

You know, now that I sat down to give this a thought, there are a couple questions I'd like you to answer me. You know, for curiosity's sake. It seems you're highly popular amongst the atheist and Christian, and you've been known to tend to the heretic quite a bit as well. How do you feel about Jews? And are you in charge of the Kwanza too? See, as I recall, this is how your advertising goes: you will distribute presents to ALL the good boys and girls. Didn't anyone ever find that offensive, religion-wise? And what exactly is your relationship with Baby Jesus? I mean, between you and I, you really cut that kid out of your deal. You sent him three blokes with gold, incense and myrth. Not the presents a kid usually likes to get, and I'm sure Mary would've liked a pacifier and some diapers instead. Hey, I'm just pulling your leg. I know Baby Jesus was born in March (he was an Aries), the Pope only deemed it better to have Christmas in December to screw with us. I would also like to know, because of your advertising and your overall... outfit, let's call it... are you a communist? Your resemblance to Karl Marx is uncanny, and you both wear the same colors.

But I digress. You know I haven't been a good girl, but I haven't been so bad either. In my defense, I got a lot of crap in 2008. But let's see, I didn't kill, unless you count the occasional family-size roach. I didn't rob, unless you are a stuck-up who thinks downloading shit from the Web is worth time in jail (like the justice system nearly everywhere. If it makes you feel better, half the stuff I downloaded was from people who are either dead or too rich to care). As lies go... yeah... I fucked up sometimes there, but you gotta understand that in this day and age, it's a survival mechanism more than "being bad", and again, in my defense, I restricted myself to little white lies. Nobody was hurt, and I got myself out of situations once or twice. Being good to my fellow man... I have been. After coffee at least, I have been. It's not my fault if people confuse personality and mood with goodwill. I'm pretty much celibatary, so... no jokes about being a bad girl here. I haven't done much for others, but at least I didn't give them problems either. I wasn't arrested for anything (yet), I didn't covet my neighbor's wife, husband, pet, material possession or social status, though I have often coveted other people's jobs. Jobs, Santa, not incomes. I actually want to work for my share here, and I don't think spending weekends in my pajamas qualifies as being lazy either. Overall, I may not be on the "Goody Two-Shoes" list, but cut me some slack, I'm probably not the worst in the lot, and I'm not gonna ask for much.

Here's what I'd like to have for Christmas: a pot of patience. A king-sized, coke-and-fries, menu included pot of good old-fashioned patience. My stock is running thin lately, and you know you need to have a lot of patience to wash down all the worms you need to swallow from time to time. That and beer, but if drinking and smoking is being bad, man, I'm done. You know how it's been, since you have omniscience, like Gods do: I've been a sponge and a chimney since I hit 20, no use denying it. The patience you may be bringing me could be the only thing between being on the "Fairly Decent" list next year, or remaining in the "Pissed and Mean as Hell" one. I wouldn't be asking if I wasn't needing, and I haven't bugged you for some twenty years, now. You know that letter from '97 didn't mean squat.

Even if you don't bring me the patience I want, I'd still like to leave something for you on Christmas Eve, so even if you're not delivering anything, take five to drop by. You're a busy guy, especially at this time of year, and you have one of the worst paying, lousiest jobs in the market. Okay, so the schedule is pretty neat, you only work once a year, but that's about it. If your job was as good as people make it, at your age you'd be retired and living in Bocca, not still making like FedEx on the Pole. And I happen to know Toys 'R' Us is killing your business. Anyway, there will be a dish inside my microwave containing a couple of sandwiches and some fries. I'll also leave a pot of sauce there, in case you decide to tell colesterol to go fuck itself. There's beer, bubbly and wine in the fridge, Martini and Jack in the living room closet and coffee in the pot, so knock yourself out. As long as you don't wake me up, feel free to use the kitchen and the can. I don't think pissing in mid-air and out in the cold is very advisable at this time of year.

Best regards,

Seion