It’s not the bullet with your name on it..

Dear Santa,

It is coming upon that special time of year again. Yes, you know the one. Christmas. There. I said it.

I saw the mail bags. I know what’s happening. Requests are flooding in. The toy shop is working overtime, the elves are on Ritalin, Mrs. Claus took one look [and whiff] of you after a 96 hour shift and went to visit enemies in Lauderdale til January the 5th – It’s Hell Week.

Not that I mind, you know. Pulling 1500 pounds of Christmas cheer around the world overnight doesn’t bug me. I don’t even mind that sack of toys. This is what reindeer do. We live for this.

God… we’re very strange animals…

No. That’s not what I wanted to talk to you about.

We’ve been out on the internet lately, doing preflight route checks. You know, “The Internet”? Comes in a computer with Google? You really don’t have to have Fed-ex airlift in toy lists – kids can mail bomb you these days. But anyway…

I just checked out sattelite imagery of a certain part of the country. Yeah, that one. Something has to be done. Donder is crying. Blitzen hasn’t moved since last year: he just curls up in the foetal position and whimpers. Vixen still has post-traumatic stress syndrome: everytime hail hits the roof, she screams “Incoming!” and bitchslaps an elf. This is getting way past bad.

I’ve got one word for you:

“PONY”.

There. I said it.

Look. Stick a damned shetland in the sled. We’ll haul it. I don’t care that you got jabbed in the eye with a cap pistol, or that you were called a fat boozer, or that your lap got peed on. That was 36 years ago.

Get OVER it already.

Bad kids get presents all the time. Don’t give me that “naughty or nice” crap. I work here, remember? I was in on making Hillary’s book a best seller in time for Xmass.

Sheesh. Grow up. That house has a damned Oerlikon Twin 25mm Auto-Defense system on the roof peak this year. Radar tracking. That is NOT a DirecWay dish. Look at the aerial recon photos, dammit! Was bad enough when he just sat there with a .303 Enfield – there’s always a 11 in 12 chance for a flyby, m’kay? Besides – we never really liked Comet anyway.

Anyway… I’m always safe. He just uses me for a point indicator.

But this is getting serious. He’s got a walk-in freezer down there, I just know it.

By the way. Don’t do it for me. Do it for the others.

I’m sending this from Corpus Christie. As soon as that cute little axis-deer gets here, I’ll be in Rio by the time AOHell says “You’ve got mail!” and one of the elves prints this out.

In short: I quit. Buy a spotlight and a GPS.

Sincerely,
Rudolph

PS: The other guys say no Ding-Dongs until they see a pony, or you’re walking.

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