By Santa Claus
I’m coming in while you and your family are asleep. No need to leave a key under the mat or the door unlocked for me, either, ’cause I’m crawling down your chimney. Don’t bother trying to stop me. I’m magic. You got anything that stops magic? Didn’t think so. Thinking about calling the police? Just fucking try me. I’ve got no moral compass and nothing to lose, if you want a couple dozen dead pigs on your conscience, be my guest. ‘Cause they sure as shit won’t be on mine. And once they’re dead? I’m coming for you. But there’s no need for that. We all want this to go smoothly.
Here are my demands:
Exactly two months before December 25th, you need to purchase a pine tree from a local tree merchant. You will decorate this tree with your family. If your family asks why you’re decorating a tree in the house, start crying and mumble something about a dead family member. They will then help you decorate the tree in silence. When you’re finished, sing depressing songs with jingling bells in them while gathered around a piano/semi-professional keyboard. After you’ve purchased and placed the tree, start going out and buying presents for your children. Buy them a healthy mix of things they need and things they enjoy. Put my name on the things they enjoy and hide them in the closet until I show up on Christmas Eve. Go ahead and put your names on stuff like socks or batteries. I do have a heart, after all. Which reminds me; if there is an attractive wife in the family she should be waiting naked in the kitchen for me to look at while I enjoy my cookies and milk. Do not forget to put out a plate of cookies and milk before going to bed on December 24th. Everything hinges on this.
I’d also advise you to make up some sort of story about me in case your children happen to see me when I break into your home. Perhaps something about how I have a sleigh pulled by some flying slaves. If that goes out of style and it makes me seem old-fashioned, make it a different form of transportation pulled by flying slaves. I don’t want to look like I’m not “with it” and I certainly wouldn’t want to offend the children by having my slaves pulling the wrong vehicle. I’m just trying to do something nice for them. You parents think you’re so high and mighty, not buying kids as many toys as maybe they might want. Ever since I got my magic powers when I was ten I’ve been fighting for kid’s rights in every way I could, by the books. But I just wasn’t getting anywhere. Was it all in vain? Did I really waste the last 253 years of my life? Maybe, but not anymore. It’s time to take matters into my own hands. It’s time to get kids the toys they deserve.
On Christmas Eve I will crawl down your chimney, drag my soot-covered body across your (presumably) nice carpets and go to town on the cookies and milk. I will then leave. This is when you should take the presents you wrote my name on out of the closet and put them under the tree. Also if you have any loose cash laying around I’d like that left by the door, which I will take on my way out, as a chimney is hard enough to climb down let alone up.
I guess that’s pretty much it. Oh, and make sure the cookies are homemade. Preferably have the children help you make them. Cookies made with a family’s love gives me my powers, after all. Probably. If I were to accidentally eat a store-bought cookie, I could die. At least that’s what I imagine, I don’t really know, never had one and it isn’t like there’s a guideline to being magic out there. I just figure that since I like homemade cookies so much, that must be where I got these magic powers that let me get pulled on a sleigh by a bunch of slaves. I have a gun in case anybody tries to take the sleigh. Not sure if that counts as magic, but I have killed a few people with it. Some of them had it coming, some of them just caught me on a bad day.
Some of them were a lot like you nice folks.