Letters to Santa
I don’t really know if this is in your jurisdiction, but I don’t know who else to ask. The city won’t listen to me, even though I have sent at least six letters (studies show that’s usually the most effective number). I don’t know if you can assemble some of your reindeer and hook them up to something other than a sleigh or if you could just sprinkle some Christmas magic on the road, but I would really appreciate having the bike lane back on Eaton Street. Nothing gave me greater joy than peddling along in my own special lane, safely protected from cars by those nice yellow poles. Sometimes if I was feeling daring, I would weave through them. It was all great fun. I know a lot of people were upset by it and I know it only really works if you’re going in one direction, but it made me feel special. It made me feel like the city really cared about my relationship with my bike. And now, it’s like it doesn’t matter…it’s like I don’t matter. Please, if you can work some Christmas miracle, bring the bike lane back. I need it in my life. My bike and I are depending on you.
Too-Tired to Do Any More
You’re gonna be surprised.
I know I usually ask for some material things like makeup from Sephora, trendy accessories, or a new pair of heels. But this year I am asking— well, begging— for something different. Look, the last four years I have felt like I was living in a magical land, kinda like the North Pole. But, alas, good things must come to an end. As much as I try to be in denial, I have to admit that I am graduating college in the spring. And you see, there’s a ton going on in my neck of the woods. I know you’re a super busy person, but so am I nowadays. I don’t even have time to check Instagram or upload pictures to my new Facebook album called “Year 4.” I’m not trying to one-up you or anything, but I have had a ton of all-nighters recently; back to back days with zero sleep. On top of doing all of my homework and cramming for my never-ending finals week, I have been sending out a mountain of applications. It’s like I’ve been on autopilot, whipping out cover letters like your elves make toys. And I feel like, since it is Christmas time and all, miracles happen. It’s the season of giving! So please, would you put in a good word for me and leave a job offer underneath my tree?
A Stressed Senior
Let’s get one thing straight. This Christmas is going to be a little different from last year’s, okay? It isn’t too big of a deal, but there was a little bit of a mixup with the presents I think. I understand, though. You have a lot to deal with delivering all those presents in one night, squeezing down tiny chimneys, and figuring out whose toys are whose. So like I said, not a huge deal, but I think you have a little bit of experience by now so I just wanted to point out your mistake. Last year, I asked for a bunch of bows to put in my hair, remember? Susie Hayes used to wear her hair like that all the time, and I wanted to have my hair look just like hers. Only better, of course. Even after I specified this very clearly, all you gave me were ribbons. They were beautiful ribbons and all, but how is that going to help me decorate my hair? My mom told me that the bows are created by ribbons, but really Santa? I’m seven. How am I supposed to make a bow with ribbon? It is a little ridiculous to me. This year, I will make it a little easier for you. I like headbands now, and not ones that I have to make. Just regular, cute, fun headbands. Preferably pink. Thank you Santa!
I need you to do me a favor. So my mom got me these wicked cool Jordans for my birthday last month, right? The thing is, though, I lost them. Like, basically the next day. BUT, they’re mad expensive, right? So here’s what I need you to do.
I need you to find a pair of Air Jordans Retro 13, the black and teal kind, and beat ’em up for me a bit. Like, I dunno, have one of your elves wear ’em around, scuff ’em up, whatever. Then, I need you to get the box a little messed up, too. Crush it a little, maybe tear at the corners, just make it look like it’s ~been through~ some things, y’know? Okay, and then, and like, this is the wicked important part so pay attention please, I need you to NOT put them under the tree or near my stocking. Leave ’em by my room—if you go up the stairs and turn right, it’s the second door on the left.
DON’T LEAVE THEM UNDER THE TREE. Not unless you want me to be DEAD. Because if my mom finds out that I lost a $200 pair of shoes, I might as well just go bury myself in the ground.
So remember, Santa: find the shoes, rough ’em up, and leave ’em directly with me.
Letters to Santa
I already talked to one of your helpers (I’m old enough to know he’s not the real deal) but I thought I’d write you a note just in case he forgets to tell you. This Christmas, surprisingly, I don’t want any presents. I don’t want action figures, movies, comic books, or gadgets. Nothing. All I really want is my family to come back. When I first woke up and saw they were gone, I was super happy. I could finally have some peace and quiet. I was the man of the house; I went grocery shopping, put on after shave, and did some, uhm, “redecorating.” But after a little bit of freedom, I started having a change of heart. I miss my parents. I miss Megan, Linnie, Jeff, and even Buzz. I want to see my cousins, my aunt…and Uncle Frank if you get around to it. I really don’t want to be home alone anymore. Especially on Christmas; no one should be alone on Christmas. I know you are very busy this time of year, but I’d be so thankful if you could help bring my family back. I promise I’ve been good!
I have a bit of an unconventional Christmas request this year.
I just took my last exam of the semester and I’m pretty sure I failed. So, I’ve decided to drop out of college and become an elf. I know what you’re thinking—that I should stay in school, that I couldn’t have possibly failed that badly, that there are so many other possible jobs I could go for even if I were to drop out of school. Well, I’ve already made my decision. And I’m assuming my parents aren’t gonna be that happy about it, so I figured the safest place for me to be once I break the news to them is as far away from them as possible (i.e., the North Pole).
But listen, Santa, I’m not just trying to take advantage of you here. I really do think I’m qualified for this job. For one, I’m pretty short, so that automatically puts me far above a lot of the other candidates. I also have tons of experience eating large quantities of sugar in a single sitting, which I’m sure should count for something. Finally, I have a talent for procrastination, so you could hand me any job and I’ll be able to keep myself busy for the whole year (because, really, what else do you do all year when it’s not Christmas?).
In conclusion, I would make a fantastic elf.
Your Future Favorite Elf
P.S. – I’ll be waiting with my bags packed on Christmas Eve. See you then!
There are a few things I want for Christmas this year, but I’ll warn you, they are more abstract than tangible. But you’re magical so I know you’ll be able to pull it off. First off, and this one’s pretty tough; I’m going abroad this next semester and I’m worried. I’m worried my dog won’t remember me. So what I would like you to do is make her able to teleport. So whenever I need one of her snuggles, I can just teleport her to Paris. This way, my mom won’t get too mad and I’ll make sure she can never forget me. Plus, I’ll take her on walks around the Eiffel Tower and she’ll be immersed in the Parisian lifestyle. Secondly, I would like it if you could make my stomach full after one meal so I can control my unhealthy overeating habits. It gets really embarrassing when my stomach is growling in the middle of an exam. I can’t keep coughing to cover it up anymore. I also would like if you made my skin tan all year long because everyone knows you’re happier when you’re tan. Lastly, and this one is important: I want you to make sure no one is alone on Christmas day. This one is big because no one deserves to be alone, especially on the most magical day of the year. Christmas is about giving and not so much what you receive. I think the presence of the ones who love us is more than enough to make this magical day even more magical. I know these are tricky tasks, but I know you are equipped to make them come true. Make me proud Santa.
I am writing to inform you that, per our agreement, you are to deliver an Xbox One as well as three trending games to my home on the 24th of December, or Christmas Eve. The cookies and milk will be placed on the kitchen table, the presents should be placed underneath my family’s Christmas tree.
***PLEASE ENSURE TO MARK THEM WITH MY NAME!! Otherwise my dumb younger brother will surely claim them as his own, and he can’t even get to the top 10 in Fortnite.
If you recall last year’s events, I asked for a Nintendo Switch and you did not deliver as promised. My parents regretfully informed me that it was due to my unsatisfactory grades in math. Luckily, they covered for you by giving me a Switch and the Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild game for my birthday. I assure you that my grades this year are adequate for something as simple as an Xbox One, and if you fail again I will not be as lenient as I was last year.
You may see me when I’m sleeping, but I know where you live.
Letters to Santa
How is Rudolph doing? I hope good. Is it cold? It’s cold here, but I have a blanket and sweater. My Grammy made it for me. Does Rudolph have a Grammy? Who makes him sweaters? And cookies? And gives him hugs and kisses? The good kisses. Not the sloppy kind my doggie gives me. Do you have any pets, Santa? Oh yeah, the reindeer. Silly me. I made you cookies. The gooey kind. And milk! But my brother ate them. Stupid brother! And my kitty drank the milk. Stupid kitty! My daddy says to not say “stupid.” Don’t tell him, ok? Can you say that word? How old are you? I think three billion! Why don’t you have any kids?
My daddy says I need to write what I want. Ok. I want a pink pony with purple eyelashes and a blue tail. It needs to sing and fly and bake me cookies. Oh, my daddy says I can’t ask for that. Ok. I want a castle with servants and a pool full of jelly. And I want a house made out of candy. And I want a pony, but this time a normal one, but a real one! Please? Oh, my daddy says I need to ask for something you can actually get me so I won’t be disappointed. But, why can’t you give me all of this stuff? You are the greatest man alive! You have powers and a big belly and a jolly laugh and, um, stuff! Yeah. So, I want a rocket so I can go to the moon and eat moon cheese. I like cheese. Do you? What do you like to eat?
Oh, my daddy says I need to stop because I’m running out of paper. I love you Santa and Rudolph and Dancer and
Prancer and the other reindeer I don’t know the names of. Kisses. Oh, and sorry about the milk and cookies. Please still come. I have been good, I promise.
Love and hugs,
I don’t really believe in you. I know I haven’t believed in you for years. Not at all, in fact. So why am I doing this? Why would I write you a letter? I don’t quite know to be honest. I’m not sure I could put it into words, at any rate. So what do I want? That’s the question, right? I don’t think I know anymore. Not to be lonely? Is that an answer? I can’t put my finger down on anything that doesn’t seem to have some sort of baggage and grief on it, but there’s a part of me kicking around that still wants to believe and to hope that something good is out there for my life.
When I was a kid, I guess that meant presents under a tree and a world outside covered in snow. A day of playing with Dad and then hot chocolate inside and watching your clothes get dry in front of the radiator. Then I got older and it changed into more complicated things like money and love and feeling important, and usually we don’t have any of those.
Now you can’t give me what I’m looking for. But I guess if I write you this letter and I remember for a split second what it was like to be a child on Christmas Eve, then at least I won’t forget what it feels like to hope. And that makes all the difference in the world.
This year for Christmas, I do not want any gifts from you. I simply want my family to get together. I want them to enjoy themselves in the spirit of the Holidays. I want my siblings and my friends to love the gifts that I have purchased for them. I want you to fly on your big red sleigh through the cold and brisk air with a smile on your face. I want children and parents to scream your name from afar so that you can hear them and know that they are excited for the season of giving to truly begin.
I love you and all that you do for every child around the world. Thank you for changing my meaning of Christmas for the better. Good luck on your journey. I will be thinking of Rudolph and his shiny red nose and you with your big beard and full belly.
Lastly, please eat the cookies that I leave out for you, they are sugar cookies this year. Please make sure that Rudolph eats his carrots as well.
Much love and best regards,
Your Biggest Fan
Year after year I wrote to you, asking for a puppy—a cute little black pupper with white paws so it looks like he’s wearing socks—and nothing. Every Christmas morning from the ages of 6 to 16, I would run downstairs, eagerly expecting the sight of a wagging tail and the sound of yipping, and instead, all I got were a bunch of Legos, a Playstation, a pair of Beats headphones, an iPhone, and a whole boat load of money.
Seriously, how hard is it to bring me a puppy? When we were 10, you brought my neighbor Jerry and his sister Cathy a kitten, so I think you could figure out a way to leave a puppy under my parent’s tree.
I’m just saying, Santa—if I don’t get a puppy this Christmas, then have fun eating stale cookies from the back of my locker and drinking soy milk next year.
His Name Could Be Socko, But You Playin’