Santa,

Last year I asked for a pony. I got a lump of coal and a warning about experimenting with rat poison by putting it in Johnny’s cereal. He lived, it wasn’t much, and arsenic is a natural element found in our bodies anyway.

This year you gave me fake plastic coal and told me I was a bad girl for testing the combustibility of coal when mixed with daddy’s favorite scotch. I didn’t get my pony.

Santa, I’m a smart girl. My mommy says I’m a genius, my daddy says I’m scary. The teachers call me precocious. I am not bad, I have an urge to explore and it sometimes comes out in ways that others consider ‘detrimental to her welfare and the welfare of others.’

No one has died Santa. Accidents happen. I see it on the news every day. Babies fall down wells, kids start fires that burn down houses. Heck, even one kick from a cow destroyed all of Chicago. Is that cow naughty?

I wonder if the fact that at age nine my IQ rivals Einstein’s frightens you. Or maybe you don’t like strong women? Is that it Santa? Do you prefer your women baking cookies for you and your hundreds of slave laborers, AKA elves?

This year Santa, there is to be no more coal. I made a special concoction from the Little Princess Chemistry set mommy bought me even though daddy said "this won't lead to anything good." What I made can’t be detected by scent or taste. It was in the milk. I know you drank the milk. Every year when you come to pass judgment on me you eat the cookies and drink the milk even though I receive no pony.

Santa, only I know what went in your milk and how long you have left. Only I know what can stop what must now be terrible cramping, vomiting, and diarrhea from turning into something worse. So you best bring my pony, and quickly. The pony is to be all white with pink bows in her mane and tail. She is to be named ‘Crystalline’ and have a golden collar with her name engraved on it. The bridle is to be pink leather.

I have to go now Santa. Daddy’s throwing up again; I think he caught some stomach bug. He’s been vomiting all day. I think mommy’s bringing him to the emergency room.

But remember Santa, if you want the antidote you have to bring me the pony.

Sincerely,

Lizzy

Mr. Kris Kringle & Co.
1000 Candy Cane Ln.
North Pole, D1225

RE: Contract with Mr. Johnny J. Jones, Jr.

To Whom It May Concern,

You are hereby notified that you are in breach of implicit contract with our client, Johnny J. Jones, Jr. The contract, commencing on the 25th of December, 2005, guarantees our client ample goodies should he behave in a manner deemed “nice,” to be wrapped in colorful sheets of paper, tied with ribbon, and placed beneath his family’s decorated Christmas tree no later than 5:00 am Pacific Standard Time on the 25th of December, 2006. Our client has, by current applicable moral standards, fulfilled his obligation. By law he ought to have received at least seven new, recent-edition, battery-powered, top quality toys valued at no less than $89.95 each. Instead, you delivered a lump of coal.

According to 1953 Holly Jolly Act, paragraph 42.567b, you have thirty days from receipt of this letter to remit the aforementioned goodies. Should you refuse to do so, you must immediately produce concrete proof of our client’s inherent naughtiness or face appropriate legal action.

Only the following will constitute proof:

-Videotaped footage of our client in the act of being naughty.
-Audiotaped footage of our client using naughty language, or conducting himself in a verbally naughty manner.
-Signed, notarized affidavits from no less than five impartial, adult witnesses certifying that our client committed a naughty act.

Moreover, you must supply separate, appropriately documented proof for each calendar day that your firm claims our client was naughty. In accordance with the HJA, paragraph 42.567a, these documents must show our client to have been irrefutably guilty of open, intentional naughtiness for no less than 183 discrete days, or the majority of the calendar year, before they will be accepted as proof of predominantly naughty behavior. Should you provide insufficient or unsatisfactory documentation, we will be forced to pursue further damages for defamation of character.

Be advised that failure to respond to this letter will be interpreted as legally permissible evidence that you and your associates do not, in fact, exist, and you will therefore be guilty of fraud.

We look forward to your cooperation in this matter.

Best Regards,

Ebenezer Sleighchaser, Esq.
Sleighchaser, Sleighchaser & Scrooge, Attorneys at Law

Dear Mr. Santa Claus,
I am writing this letter against the advice of my lawyer. I also know that I should not write this letter while I am so angry. But, there are some things I need to clear up with you regarding your recent intrusion to my home on December 25th at 1:37 am. I know that was the time because, when you came down the chimney, you knocked an urn off of the mantle that contained the ashes of my brother. You then stepped on, and broke, several dreidels my children played with. Oh, and let’s not forget how you knocked over, and broke, our one hundred and fifty year old menorah that my great great grand father fashioned from silver. Of course, all of this set the security alarm off. But, in typical Santa style, you are in and out of the house in a “wink of an eye” as you describe it. Luckily, you appeared on camera for the one millisecond you were in my house. I assume it was during this time, you realized I was Jewish and perhaps you were at the wrong house. Of course a scumbag like your self would not stick around after doing something so destructive!

Much to my horror, the next morning was spent explaining to my children why someone would break our cherished symbols of faith. I do not EVEN want to begin how long they cried over the desecration you did to ashes of my brother. I wish the story ended there, but we both know that it does not. When I went outside, I noticed that the brand new shingles that were recently put on my roof were missing and broken. No doubt from the team of reindeer forced into bondage to pull your heavy, cookie-filled and milk-drinking, body across the world. I am sure PETA will be interested in that little fact.

Anyway Mr. Claus, I just wanted you to be aware that your actions were caught and my lawyer will be contacting you soon. I am sure with the taped evidence and your well-known identity, there will be no denying who was in my house. I will admit that finding a jury that is not tainted by your lore will be difficult to find, but breaking and entering, damage to personal property, and desecration of a corpse is not something you should take lightly.

Dear Santa,

Somewhere in between the argyle socks and the sweater my Aunt Jeanie knitted, I am noticing a large gap in the amount of my normal stockpile of Christmas presents. You know why, fat man? Because you didn’t come to my house!

Now I can only assume that by some error of your own, between stuffing your face with marijuana-cookies, and slurping down milk one Rum-spiked glass after another, that you seemingly looked over my humble house out of an intoxicated stupor. Then again, who am I to trust a man who employs child labor (elves…yeah right!) despite international child labor laws, and still resorts to the ancient ways of air travel, utilizing those poor reindeer instead of quicker means of travel like, say…a jet plane. Being that I read and write at a sixth grade level, I feel it only proper to expand this beyond the simple, “I’m disgruntled and hope you die,” letter. Instead, let us consider this the first round of negotiations, Kringle. I have seen the Godfather, and I know all about payoffs and blackmail, so don’t mess with me. I want everything I asked for at the mall, plus your leftover stockpile from Christmas Eve. And don’t go trying to say that you don’t have any extra, I know you, man. I know you’re type.

You deliver these things to my house by midnight on New Years and maybe I won’t drop a letter to the people in charge of Child Labor, or one better, maybe I won’t tell PETA about your misuse and abuse of those poor reindeer. Making them fly all over the globe in one night, even Hollywood will give their animals a break every now and then. You never saw Mr. Ed pulling an all nighter, but you whip and shout your taunts at them, using their names in vain, like some misguided reindeer blasphemy. You make me sick.

So there you have it. Your stash, or your life! If you deliver early, I may even think about sparing you next year. I think that’s an offer you won’t refuse. Think about it, fat man. And don't forget, I know where you live!

Waiting on what’s mine,
Johnny

PS…My mom baked those cookies. You missed out, man. Oh yeah, you missed out!

You-are-not-welcome Santa,

I can’t believe what you have done this year! Christmas lost total significance in my fireplace thanks to your inefficiency. You have turned in such procrastinator that you do not deserve even unemployment benefits. Actually, I hope you got fired by your own elves in the north pole due to your malperformance. Also, I am glad that globlal warming is melting your neighborhood, that way you will be homeless or killer whale bait pretty soon! Your action has been so horrendous that I had to confess twenty-five times my hitman-to-be thoughts at my church. Don’t even ask me if you have a place in my heart anymore, you obese ornament. Why this? Why after Christmas? You did not consider my effort worthy, did you? After walking thirty stores and asking to fifty retail employees about the toy I wanted for Christmas, you didn’t think that I deserved it. I wrote the model and the color in fifteen different spots in my room to avoid any mistakes when I wrote my letter. I even took calligraphy lessons to impress you with my crafty writing. Sacrifice defined my efforts to get my wonderful toy this year. Do you know how many beat ups I had to take from bullys? More than twenty. Rocky looks as a beauty queen compared with me. Homework was the ultimate extreme challenge. I refused to watch television for more than 2 hours daily. I lost more than 300 episodes of my favorites TV shows to obtain good grades. I did my house chores smiling all the time and without pay, WITHOUT PAY! What is your excuse Santa? You are the zar of exploitable midgets in the north side of the earth. They clean your boots. They feed your reindeers. They polish your sledge.They obey you without questions. Those poor little people are afraid of your redish dictatorship. Where are the human rights agencies when you need them the most? What a misery you have put into my life. You brought me the wrong toy, you sleazy hairy jello. What were you thinking? You better watch out when you come with your targetable suit to my house next December. I am ready for you

Sincerely,

You new nasty-list addition

Dear Santa,

Hi Santa! I just wanted to tell you how happy I am with everything you did bring me for Christmas. I was soooooo happy you remembered the Ipod, roller blades, Elmo, PSP, and Wii. I know you know all so I figured I didn’t get what I really wanted because you knew what I put in the cookies, but then Daddy told me that you ate all of them. You must have been too busy to notice. Anyway, if you want the medicine for what was in the cookies, I suggest you send an elf to drop off what I really wanted, PS3. Thanks!

The always good,

Johnny

P.S. don’t drink any water.