Santa's Letter To The Kids

Dear Children Of The World,

Listen up, kids. You come see me in the mall or Walmart or the park or any other of the eleven million places a day that I show up at, sit on my lap, and ask me for all kinds of crap, which is lovely, but I have a few issues I need to take up with you:

- Your screaming and crying is interfering with my hangover. And blowing out my eardrums.

- You love me for my presents, but when it comes to actually asking for them, you can't take 30 seconds to sit on my lap without losing your mind? What is this shit? 

- I swear to God, the next one of you who craps their pants while sitting on me...

- Stop being such greedy little bastards. Do you even know what half the stuff you're asking for IS? What happened to BB guns and Barbie dolls? Oh that's right, you'll shoot your eye out and develop body image issues.

- My beard is not a toy. I know, it looks like snow and is so soft and has food in it! SO ENTICING! But keep your grubby little mitts off it.

- You know what else isn't a toy? My eyeglasses.

- Those of you who are asking for a new brother or sister might want to work out a trade with the other kids who are asking for their new little brother or sister to go away forever.

Please note that I am not eligible for workers' compensation. This is a seasonal job; "job" being a generous description since the wages I receive are barely enough to cover my booze budget. With that being said:

- Please stop kicking, hitting, and elbowing my balls. I cannot afford a protective cup on the five dollars an hour that I get paid to do this shit, or go to the doctor to make sure that the trauma is not permanent or serious.

- Speaking of injuries, if you're going to flip out, it's okay if you come see me while you're encased in a straight jacket. Really! Then maybe all I have to worry about is you rearing back and headbutting my chin.

- I totally get that you're excited to see me and/or have lost your top two front teeth, but please learn to talk without spitting your flu virus, hand-foot-mouth disease, cold germs, and God knows what else in my face. My glasses and beard only protect so much of my face. SAY IT DON'T SPRAY IT. On this note, if you have lice, a green runny nose, a hacking cough, or any of the above-mentioned afflictions, save seeing me for another day. My Lysol baths can only do so much.

Thanks,

Santa

P.S. If you're going to leave me cookies and milk, I actually prefer bourbon and biscuits.

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