Dear Santa,
You must be surprised that I'm writing to you today, the 26th of
December. Well, I would very much like to clear up certain things that
have occurred since the beginning of the month, when, filled with illusion, I wrote you my letter. I asked for a bicycle, an electric train set, a pair of roller blades, and a football uniform.
I destroyed my brain studying the whole year. Not only was I the
first in my class, but I had the best grades in the whole school. I'm not going to lie to you, there was no one in my entire neighborhood that behaved better than me, with my parents, my brothers, my friends, and with my neighbors. I would go on errands, and even help the elderly cross the street. There was virtually nothing within reach that I would not do for humanity.
What balls do you have leaving me a frigging yo-yo, a stupid whistle
and a pair of socks? What in HELL were you thinking, you fat son of a
bitch, that you've taken me for a sucker the whole frigging year to come out with some shit like this under the tree?! As if you hadn't screwed me enough, you gave that little faggot across the street so many toys that he can't even walk into his house. Please don't let me see you trying to fit your big fat ass down my chimney next year. I'll kick your ass. I'll throw rocks at those stupid reindeer and scare them away so you'll have to walk back to the frigging North Pole, just like what I have to do now since you didn't get me that frigging bike.
SCREW YOU SANTA.
You better watch your back next year, you FAT-SON-OF-A-BITCH.
Sincerely,
Little Johnny
