Dear Santa 2022:

 December 2022

 

Dear Santa:

 

Seems like only yesterday I was writing you, all I wanted was my two front teeth so I could with you merry chrithmath. And here we are today. Several fake teeth and numerous fillings, but my two front teeth are all mine, so thanks for granting me that small wish. Órale for believing in good dental praxis.

 

Then there was that bit of trouble, remember? I saw Mommy kissing you underneath the mistletoe that night. How was I to know Dad was wearing your suit? I got sent to my room, but I didn't shout, I didn't pout. I knew about that list you keep and check twice. I did not want a couple lumps of coal instead of that Red Ryder BB Gun. Thank you, I see fine with one eye, it's not your fault. And it got me out of the draft back in '68, so all in all, that was a good Christmas for me. 

 

I don't know what Grandma did to piss you off, or maybe it was just the worst time of the year for such a journey, the ways deep and the weather sharp, the very dead of winter, and all of that. But getting run over by reindeer is a hard way to reaffirm one's belief in myths. Did I say that? I meant the true spirit of X-mas and, of course, your existence, Santa. I shall be glad of another sale. 

 

And now that I know you have a low tolerance for ambiguity—last year I asked for RAM and got a whole herd of Bo-Peep's sheep; I meant computer memory--I am going to keep this short, sweet, and specific, OK? 

 

First of all, I want World Peace. Am I dreaming the impossible dream? Shouldn’t  my reach exceed my grasp? Are my arms too short?

 

Next, all I want is a room somewhere. You know, far away from the cold night air? Make it a big room, and soundproofed because when all the faithful come joyful and triumphant, they make a lot of noise. And no figgy pudding, sheesh. 

 

Please bring You Know Who a puppy. I asked about that doggie in the window, the one with the waggly tail. Its ears were grown a little longish, and its tail cut short. But the price was astronomical, so that little dogie can just git along, that's its misfortune and none of my own. Heah! 

 

And, Yes, thank you for Virginia. And Pennsylvania. And Georgia, of all places. Yes, Virginia, si se pudo. Now no one will send us to eat in the kitchen. 

 

As I promised, I’m keeping this short and to the point. Here’s hoping all your wishes come true, too. Enjoy the mutton stew.

 

And to all, a good night.

Signed...

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