A Letter From Santa Claus
This is an actual letter from Santa Claus to a friend. The friend’s name is John. The letter was found without an address. Based on numerous references to Weslyan University, I presume that John is an old college buddy of Santa’s.
My butt is aching like Hell from squeezing through so many fucking chimneys last night. I swear, I’ve probably got a bruise on my ass cheek the size of an oven mitt.
And speaking of oven mitts, I ate so many homemade cookies last night my tummy’s about to pop. The worst part is that I needed to take a crap so bad but didn’t want to go in someone’s bathroom. Can you imagine the horror if some little kid woke up in the middle of the night and found Santa Claus sitting on the pooper with his pants at his ankles reading Newsweek?
Thankfully, I found an all-night diner in Tuscon who let me use their toilet. I had to buy a fuckin’ muffin though for the privelege. Didn’t even eat it. Fuckin’ assholes, “Bathroom For Customers Only.” What about Saints? Do we have special priveleges? I guess not.
Overall, it was a good night though. Rudolph was in rare form. Damn that kid can fly. His nose is so distracting though. It really is red. It’s hard not to gawk.
Donner and Blitzen were dragging it a bit which completely got on my nerves. I’m sure they did it to piss me off. Mission accomplished. Donner’s mad at me because I said his coat of fur looked “gay.” Big deal! It does. Donner says that “gay” is a derogatory word and I was like, “Not to the Romantic Poet’s it’s not.” He had no rebuttal and I felt vindicated. Either way, he was flying so slow and it was totally fucking up our pace. Rudolph tried to calm me down but I was seriously postal. I told Donner that there were probably fifty reindeer with the ability to fly just itching for a chance to take his place. Donner shrugged it off and I took a swing at him. I decked him right in the snout and he kicked me in the balls. I had to lie down for like 20 minutes before I could even barely breath.
Blitzen and Donner are such a clique. They’re always telling secrets. I think they’re a bad influence on the other reindeer. In particular, I feeling like Dancer is joining their club. Fuck them! I feel wierd trying to get in with a bunch of deer anyway. They’ve got their own deal and that’s fine with me. Truthfully though, I overheard Blitzen call me a “tub of shit” behind my back and it kinda bummed me out. I shook it off and everything but it stung. Blitzen can be really mean.
On an upbeat note, I finished on time this year. I’ve completed my task on time for like 6 centuries now. I feel really good about that. Punctuality is something that means a lot to me. Remember how much it got on my nerves that Grady always sleep late at Weslyan? He was such a Goddam loafer? Have you heard from him? Last I heard he was in San Francisco working for a non-profit. Anyhoozle, I’m all about sleep, sleep, sleep these next few months. Then it’s back to work. Tell Nan and the kids, I say “hi.” How’s Nan’s Dad? Is Jeff still trying to be a screenwriter? That’s such a tough biz. Let me know if you’re in the North Pole and wanna go ice-fishing or something. I’m always in the mood for a hang. Maybe we can roll a spleef and watch a DVD or somethin’, somethin’. (I haven’t seen “Caddyshack” in years! I’m having a jones for it.) A’ight killa, I’m out. How are you? Still teaching at Lehigh? I heard you were up for tenure but never got the full scoop. Lemme know the 411.
Peace and Love