Dear Santa

Dear Santa,

Hey buddy, how’s it going? Honestly, I don’t care, so shut the fuck up. This isn’t one of those ‘o mi gosh i want a pony’ letters. No. I already wrote that letter. Last year in fact. And what did you get me? Honestly, you didn’t seem to care, so shut the fuck up.

There I am, Christmas morning. My mom’s out of work, my father still dead after getting caught in the chimney last year trying to impersonate you. This was supposed to be a great Christmas, since it was the last one I was going to spend with my mother who was dying with cancer at the time (thanks a lot, jackass. She asked for new earrings, not acute t-cell carcinoma). I go downstairs to open my gifts from you and what’s there:

Axxon

Axxon. Axxon is clearly one of the worst Bionicles to have ever been created by Lego.

“What the fuck, Santa,” I said, under my breath. My mother looked at me.

“Did Santa give you what you wanted this year, honey?” she said, coughing. This was one of her long coughs. We always grew tense when these coughs happened.

“Fuck no, mom,” I said, “I didn’t want Axxon. Axxon is dog shit. I wanted Takutanuva. Not Axxon.”

For reference, Santa, this is Takutanuva:
Tatu

“I guess Santa,” she paused to cough, “accidentally messed up this year. I’m sorry.” She started to cry.

“Don’t be sorry mom,” I said, “It’s that fat asshole’s fault. Don’t take it out on yourself. Santa’s just a mean old cock sucker for thinking I wanted Axxon. I hope he dies in his sleep.”

There was another box, which I assumed to be an Playstation 3. But was it an Playstation 3? No. It was clothes. Clothes, St. Prick. I wanted to immerse myself in the world of games, but instead I’m getting immersed in itchy cotton and onesies.

What the hell were you thinking? You ruined my last Christmas with mother. You are such an asshole, man. All I wanted was Takutaunuva and a Playstation 3. That would have made me happy. My mom didn’t have enough money to buy me a Playstation 3, so I assumed you would have. You should have. But you didn’t. Nope. My mom spent Christmas crying because I didn’t get the toys I wanted.

And now she’s dead; she took her own life. This is an excerpt from her suicide note:

“I did so much for you and yet you just turned around and called me an asshole and you wanted me to die in my sleep…after all I did?”

So not only did my mom do a whole lot of things for you, but you turn around and give me utter shit for Christmas? Blow me, Santa Claus. Blow me hard.

This is horseshit,
Charlie Brown

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