O Santa

Thank you for sending me those pills. I feel so much better now. Less grumpy, more active. People say I'm a changed man and they all love me. I'm a hit! I've certainly lost a few pounds. My Momma says I've never looked this good and skinny. She's really proud of me. But I know who to thank. You and I know I didn't do squat. You and I know I owe it all to you, Santa. All of it.

So here's what I'm gonna do. I'm gonna buy myself a ticket to the North Pole so I can visit you. I want to visit you. I really do. I want to meet the man who saved me. I want to sit on his lap and sing O Tannenbaum and take more pills. Mrs Santa won't mind. She told me so herself when she came to me in my dream last night—and today, when I was in the little men's room doing what I do best. She can sit on my lap while I'm sitting on yours. After all, she makes you happy and you make me happy so it all makes perfect sense.

Maybe I can wear your PJs. They must be big and warm and red. I lo-o-o-o-ve red. It reminds me of the days when there were dangerous communists everywhere and my saint Daddy just sat on them. He just sat on them. He used to say, 'Son, you see a communist, you just sit on them.' Now it's my turn to do the same. Sit on a fat old communist in a red suit. Did you know that communists gave presents to the people as well? I'm sure they were really thankful they could finally get some premium toilet paper. Do you think they saw apparitions, too? Well, I'm gonna buy myself that ticket now and I'll see you real quick. I can't wait to sit on you.

Yours Sincerely and Yours Completely,

Double You

P.S. I've been a good boy, so is there any chance I could get my office back... the one that's shaped like an egg? And a matching new horse?

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