Tag Archives: purple flying pegasus unicorn

Santa’s Reply

Hey, guys, you won’t believe this, but I totally got a response from Santa.  I think he might have been slightly perturbed by my letter.  Check it out:

I know, you're jealous.

I know, you’re jealous.

From: Santa Claus [ThebigSman@northpole.com}

To: Alice [alice@wonderland.com]

Subject: Your Letter

Alice,

My goodness, you are a RUDE little thing, aren’t you?  And here I saw a picture of this cute little girl in a pinafore and thought that I was going to get a decent letter this time.  Imagine my surprise when instead I got YOU.

You, Alice, are so not getting your Noo-Noo, or one of John McCain’s spare houses, and I’m certainly not letting you have one of my prized purple Pegasus unicorns.  Those only go to good little girls.  Good little girls do not ask Santa to steal, and they certainly do not try to blackmail Santa.  That is a no-no.  Therefore, I hate to say this Alice, but you are officially on my Naughty List.

And the Naughty List is NOT a good thing, no matter what those terrible books you’ve been reading say.  Yes, I know about those.  I see you when you’re sleeping, I know when you’re awake, and I know when you’ve been reading E.L. James.  Shame, Alice.  For shame.

I thought you should also know, Alice, that Santa unfollowed your blog.  And I defriended you on Facebook.  I do believe you are the only child Santa has ever defriended.  Very sad, Alice.  Expect coal to arrive in your inbox any time now.  Also a large pile of reindeer poop I just had my elves scoop off my front porch.

Speaking of elves, I will have you know that they are very well treated.  They do not work in a sweat shop.  It’s very cold here.  And I pay them in happiness and joy and Christmas spirit.  Do you know what Christmas spirit is, Alice?  It is not calling Santa a “fatty”, Alice.  For your information, Santa is just big boned.

If you would like to get off my Naughty List, I would suggest you start doing the following:

Pet a kitten every day.

Smile.

Stop reading 50 Shades.

Try to be nice.  Or at least pretend.

Stop blackmailing me and calling me fatty.

Sincerely,

Santa Claus

P.S. I haven’t been able to find Rudolf lately.  That wouldn’t have anything to do with you, would it?

Alice’s Letter to Santa

It’s been a while since I wrote a letter to Santa.  A fellow blogger gave me the idea, and I decided that, hey, I’m greedy.  Why not?

In five seconds this letter will explode.

From: Alice [Alice@wonderland.com]

To: Santa Claus [thebigSman@northpole.com]

Subject: My Demands

Dear Santa,

Hey you know that stuff where I said I didn’t believe in you and your stupid tiny reindeer?  Just kidding!  I think you’re totally real and that you’re going to give me lots of material crap.  That is what you do, right?  I admit I’m a little confused on the whole concept.  At four, my daughter asked to lead a prayer.  Her prayer went as follows, “Dear God.  Please ask Santa to bring me Barbie and the 12 Dancing Princesses.  Amen.”  I never realized you were middle management for God, Santa. I guess I could pray to your boss, but I think you’re a more direct line; and praying might be pushing it for me, as I hear your boss has lightning bolts.

My list is pretty simple this year.  I just want peace and happiness and love and joyness for everyone.  Also I want everybody to have a new purple flying Pegasus unicorn of their very own.  Pfft, not really.  I want a lot of stuff for me.  You might get me the new purple flying Pegasus unicorn, since you failed to do that back when I was a child.  This could be your chance to redeem yourself, fatty.  I mean, Santa.

There are a few things I’d like for others, but mostly because it benefits me.  First, I’d like that stupid kid to get her two front teeth, that other kid to get the darn hippo, and finally for that Santa baby twit to get all her crap so that they will all finally stop singing those songs.  I hate them.  A lot.  Can you do that Santa?  That would be swell.

Next I’d like for politicians to shut up.  I think that would be ever so wonderful.  They ought to be allowed to speak only on special occasions.  With scripts.  Prepared by normal human beings.  I’m not sure how you’re going to accomplish this.  Maybe you could import them all to the North Pole and give your poor elves a break.  Yeah, I know all about your North Pole sweat shop you got going up there, Santa.

But what material possessions would I like for me?  Glad you asked.  I would like one of those living vacuum cleaners like the Teletubbies have.  Get me a Noo-Noo.  Also a new house.  I know, you don’t have lots of houses at the shop.  That’s okay.   John McCain can’t even remember how many he has, so if you snatched one of his, he probably wouldn’t even know.  Thanks.

If you just do these simple things for me, I will not only forgive you for past wrongs; I will not report you to the government for exploiting elves.

I’ll be waiting.  Don’t mess up.  I know where you live.

Alice