Santa Letters!
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[Ed. note: HAPPY HOLIDAYS FROM ÜBER!! Please enjoy these THREE pieces that made Über work on the weekend AND on Christmas. Nobody works on Christmas except us, and we are doing it just for you. Merry Merry. Peace. -D]
He Knows You've Been Bad, and Will Tell You So
by Gene Morgan
December 24, 2001
Dear Jimmy,
You are such a sweet child. Every year it is such a pleasure for me to review your actions (twice), and let the warm holiday grin spread across my face. I envy your mother, she must be so proud!
Just Kidding! She hates you! You wanted what, a Gameboy? Didn't you get that last year? Oh-- That's right, you were a dick then too. Bank on peat again, fucker. Next time you write letter to request a gift, be sure not to include a photoshopped picture of my lady in the buff. And for the record, Mrs. Claus has a bangin' body, regardless of what you crudely imply. My wife's form has nothing in common with this gargatuan naked beast (other than the buxom chest), and I hasten to add that it is your mother's junk that very closely resembles the curves in this photo. Man Alive! And I thought I was the only one with naked pictures of your mom!
Ho Ho Ho,
Santa
December 24, 2002
James,
I know when you have been sleeping, my friend, and the nights have gotten long, have they not? Your conscience keeping you up? The nagging faults and sleepless nights of your youth have no doubt compromised your ability to distinguish between the dreaming world and real life, no? Once again, you have asked me for a Gameboy, and once again, like the years before, I laughed, in spite, out loud.
Gameboys are neat. There are games of pinball and Pokemon, Zelda, Mario, even the one with the puffy pink fellow (boy, you two sure look alike!). Every other child on your block is getting one, in full color! How great is that? Ask little Adam Davenport on the end of the street if you can play his. I'm sure he won't mind-- even though you broke his arm by pushing him off the top of the monkey bars, dick. I saw what it did to your mother when she had to face the PTA after you set fire to the cafeteria. I saw her crying at night over your satanic demeanor. For shame, Jimmy. For shame.
Holiday Cheer,
Mr. Claus
December 24, 2003
Young Jim Beaumont,
WOW! This year was your best behaved ever. I'm proud of the way you handled yourself and your personal relationships with family and friends. The way you gracefully held yourself under pressure, the stoic line you took through that mental bout with Doug Freeman outside the t-shacks, only bloodying his face slightly--exemplary, son.
I am happy to inform you that Gameboys will be stacked on high this year. Xbox? PS2? Gamecube? 64-inch plasma screen? Yes, Yes, Yes, Yes! Anything and everything you want, you brilliant child!
Jolly,
St. Nick
PS - Please, now that I've given you what you want, destroy those pictures of me and your mother. My relationship with Mrs. Claus is too important to be ruined by a little mistletoe play. Seriously, it was a mistake.
December 24, 2004
Bastard,
Thanks for stripping me of my only love here in the frosty isolation of the North Pole. My wife is gone you shitbag. My reindeer hate me, the elves have unionized to protect themselves from me, and to cap things off, the Euro has skyrocketed, and it's hard for me to buy toys for children on the Continent. I'm drunk on egg nog, and quite doubtful that any of this crap will get delivered. I hope you are enjoying that monster TV I brought you during last year's extortion escapade, and I hope it dies on you-- Just like your "real" father.
Have you ever thought about the fact that you were born on September 25th?
Father Christmas
--------------------------------------------
Dear Santa Claus
by James Whitman
Dear Santa Claus:
As you will be aware, there have been a number of changes within the Department of Children's Sainthoods in recent months, not the least of which has been my own appointment as Sainthood Director.
Regrettably, many of these changes have resulted in short-term resource constraints and I am aware that this has particularly affected your project.
I am also aware that we have yet to meet face-to-face. Your project remains a critical element of our overall strategy and, as such, I would like to meet with you to discuss short-term options for the coming yuletide.
Please report to the Centre of Brilliant Futures for Children and Young People (California) on Thursday 2 December 2004 at 10:00 am (local time).
I look forward to meeting you.
St. Gertrude (of the Gnashing Teeth)
Dear Santa Claus:
I am sorry you were unable to attend the meeting I had arranged with you. I hope your reindeer are feeling better.
As I mentioned in my last letter, I had hoped to discuss a strategy for the coming yuletide with you. As you were unable to attend, I had to make certain decisions unilaterally. Ordinarily, I would be loath to do this, but I'm sure you appreciate that time is an issue in this situation.
The following recommendations were agreed between myself and my immediate superior, St Elspeth (of the Bleeding Gums):
1) The "niceness threshold" will be raised from 200 days of the year to 300 days of the year.
2) Special consideration will no longer be given to children who are ill, grieving, on holiday or having a birthday.
3) Children who have not achieved "nice" status will no longer be given a piece of coal in lieu of a stocking. Instead, a letter will be sent to their parent(s) / carer(s), advising them of the severity of their child's "naughtiness".
These recommendations should enable you to get through the current season, after which longer-term arrangements can be made.
Of the three recommendations, I feel the latter is the most important in terms of the broader goals of your project. As such, please send me copies of letters you intend to send out by Wednesday 8 December 2004.
I look forward to hearing from you.
St. Gertrude (of the Gnashing Teeth)
Dear Santa Claus:
Thank you for your timely response. I have read the draft letters you enclosed, and have the following advice to give you, in terms of re-drafting:
1) I feel parent(s) / carer(s) require more explicit information than their child was "a bit naughty" or "very naughty indeed". Providing one or two examples of the child's "naughty" behaviour will enable the parent(s) / carer(s) to adopt specific and appropriate behaviour management strategies in future.
2) Do not sign "Your friend, Santa Claus". You are not their friend. You are a Saint, performing good works in the name of Our Lord. As such, you should really sign your letters using your official title (Saint Nicholas of the Matted Beard).
I apologise if this second recommendation seems harsh, but it is important to maintain appropriate boundaries with the herd.
I am sure you are aware that time is ever against us in this season. With this in mind, please send me the amended letters by Monday 13 December 2004. This may mean you will have to word process the letters, rather than hand-write them.
I look forward to hearing from you.
St. Gertrude (of the Gnashing Teeth)
Dear Santa Claus:
Again, you have my thanks for your swift response. However, I feel you may have taken my advice too literally. I believe the following example serves to illustrate my point:
Dear Parent(s) / Carer(s):It is with regret that I must inform you that your son, M****** will not be receiving the PS2, Xbox, Gamecube, DVD Player, Plasma Screen Television bundle he asked for in his letter this year.
The principle reason for this is that he likes to get your dog to f*ck him in the ass.
Hohoho!
Santa ClausPS: I can recommend a very good vet if you would like to get your son spayed.
How you could imagine this letter to be an appropriate response on any level is beyond me. It is insensitive in the extreme, it is profane and it betrays the child's right to privacy. Under no circumstances are you to inform the parent(s) / carer(s) what their child has written in their letter!
Bearing the above in mind, it is with regret that I must suspend you from active service, until such time as a full review of your suitability to continue performing good works can be undertaken. I will contact you in the New Year, regarding such a review.
St. Gertrude (of the Gnashing Teeth)
PS: Merry Christmas!
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Just in Time for the Holidays
By Bonnie Ruberg
To: Santa
From: Little Mary Jane
Dear Mr. Santa Claus,
Hello. My name is Little Mary Jane and I am six years old and I live in Kansas. I have one dog and two cats and a little brother named Ralph and a mommy and a daddy. My favorite color is blue but I also like green. My mom said that I should be polite and say hello to Mrs. Claus. Hello.
The thing is, Santa, with Christmas just around the bend, I think there are a few things I should clear up with you. I know you’re supposed to have that naughty or nice list and I’m afraid you might get the wrong idea. I’m not a bad little girl. Sometimes sugar goes to my head and I get kind of crazy. But really, I try to be good.
And the idea of a Christmas without presents! None of the other kids in the first grade would speak to me if they knew I got coal in my stocking. Swim ‘n Style Barbie is the coolest doll this year. She even comes with a replaceable aquatic head! Dad said I should starting praying now if I wanted something that expensive. I tried a couple of Hail Mary’s, but that didn’t work. Then I thought about just normal bed-side prayers, but I’m pretty Jesus was busy. So I figured you’d be next in line for big decisions.
You should know: I haven’t been to confession in a long, long time. You’re a working man. You understand how it is. Just be prepared.
Well, you have to believe me. The first time wasn’t on purpose. I slept walked down to the kitchen and took a cookie from the special jar. It’s true. All I remember is waking up in a bed full of crumbs. Once I knew they tasted so good, I had to have more. You would have too, Santa - chocolate chip and oatmeal, chewy in the center. My mom makes a batch every week. She says they’re her “comfort food.” Whatever that means, she gets to keep every last one of them. I don’t know about you, but I would call that selfish. In fact, if she was down on your list for getting presents, I would switch her over to coal right now. So really, stealing all those cookies wasn’t a crime, it was more like justice.
Maybe it was while I was hyped up on all those cookies that I punched my little brother in the throat. Jesus, my mother said, couldn’t you have gone for somewhere softer? Then she noticed that I had eaten all her cookies, so she left the room to cry and make more. A few hours later, when Ralph was still bleeding, we decided to take him to the hospital. The nurse showed me how my plastic rings had made heart-shaped indents in his developing voice box. It was really just an accident. Sometimes brothers can be too much. I’m sure you know. It’s no big deal; we’ll laugh about it in a couple of years. That is, once his trachea heals.
The point is Santa, you can start crossing these off from you list of bad things for this year.
Then of course there was that fight in school. Honestly, I didn’t start it. Some little brat was reaching for the milk carton I wanted. She had it coming. What was I supposed to do? Just let her walk all over me? I know you would’ve done the same thing, Santa. You’ve got to establish your territory. I guess the girl’s parents got mad. They made me leave school for a little while. I stayed home for a week and baked muffins. That was fun. I fed one to the dog. My barbies and I talked to God a lot. He doesn’t seem so interested in dolls. I tried to offer him a muffin. He probably would have liked it, but I don’t think he knew how to eat it. Anyway, I tried. That should earn me some credit, right?
By the way, I like my presents with a bow on top - none of that fancy ribbon around the sides. Makes it too hard to rip open. We get rum balls on Christmas morning. They throw off my coordination. So keep it simple.
Those rum balls - I guess that’s another thing. Again, totally not my fault. Who would give rum balls to such a little girl? And really, it wasn’t that big a step on my part to go from rum balls to rum. That’s the school’s problem for teaching me how to read the label on the bottle. True, at first the stuff was kind of strong, but I got used to it. For a while my mom blamed my dad for drinking all her alcohol. But when she found out it was me she made me quit cold turkey. By then it was hard for me to sleep at night without at least a sip or two. I got fidgety and could hardly ever sit through dinner. I considered taking up a smoking habit.
But I didn’t. Kudos to me, right? Presents ahoy!
You have to keep all this stuff in mind to understand the gunpoint incident. It sounds worse than it was. Gunpoint - what’s that really mean? I was a good ten feet away from them. Yes, I was demanding cash. Yes, it was probably for drugs. But did I shoot anyone? No. Plain and simple. My six- year-old fingers probably couldn’t even have pulled the trigger. Not that I was planning on it. I mean, I considered. I had gotten pretty sick of hearing about those damn cookies I’d eaten and my mom hadn’t been making the macaroni and cheese I liked lately, so she could’ve gone. But we all have these thoughts once in a while, right?
It was after I told them I had chlamydia that they started threatening to kick me out of the house. Me, a helpless child. Imagine. Santa, have pity. If you brought me a house of my own I would be the happiest little girl. Of course, I’d like to get rid of this chlamydia first. That’s another thing: if they had given me more money, I could have gotten myself a higher-end whore, one that didn’t come with chlamydia. It’s a simple case of prevention.
And I don’t know how the dog got chlamydia. Things like that are tricky.
But I don’t appreciate being accused. I think I deserve a goddamn medal for survival. Santa, could you just forgive me this once? I’ve really been looking forward to Christmas.
Thanks a lot for listening. I wanted to tell you I’m a big fan of the outfit you’ve got going. I hope to see you soon, you know, up at the North Pole and stuff. I just think you’re the coolest, Santa. And, well...
Santa, I lied, I’m not a little girl named Mary Jane, I’m just a regular idiot with chlamydia. I mean, I know you must have bums who come to you all the time asking for stuff, since you’ve got all those elves who can make great toys, and I know that most of those guys are probably just assholes, but me, me I’m different, because I really want to be like that little girl, I mean, not the stealing and gunpoint parts, because those parts are already true, but the innocent Barbie doll parts, the parts where I get to wear dresses with flowers, because I really think those are the kinds of things that God would go for, and the thing is, and I’d appreciate if you could send the word on up, I’m kind of in a bind right now and I could really use some help from the big G, because, well, see the thing is that I may or may not have killed a stripper, really either one is still possible, and I, uh, I just don’t know what to do and my family won’t answer my phone calls and she’s just not moving or breathing and well, I know you’ve got something in your sack that could fix this up in a jiffy, right? Right? I’m going to poke her a couple more times and if she still doesn’t get up, then I’m going to head for Mexico. I know, I know, Canada’s closer. But I really like the food better down south.
In conclusion, please send booze.
Sincerely,
Little Mary Jane
P.S. I meant ‘send candy.’ Little girls like candy, right? P.P.S. If candy is not available, Mexican or U.S. currency will also be sufficient. God bless and Merry Christmas.
Ho Ho Ho!