Dear Santa...



  Dear Santa…

  Merry Christmas from May December Publications 2012

  Dear Santa

  ©2012 May December Publications LLC

  The split-tree logo is a registered trademark of May December Publications LLC.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons living, dead, or otherwise, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  This book is protected under the copyright laws of the United States of America. Any reproduction or unauthorized use of the material or artwork contained herein is prohibited without the express written permission of the author or May December Publications LLC.

  Printed in the U.S.A.

  Why would it be only little children that write letters to Santa? What if a zombie wanted to ask for something? Are you going to tell me that you believe in Santa and don’t believe in zombies? Please! Okay, then what would Medusa ask Santa for?

  To Children Everywhere

  No matter what age they are

  1

  Dear Santa,

  Due to a great deal of trauma and serious misunderstandings throughout my life, I have found it difficult to speak to people and tell them how I really feel. Due to holiday makers going abroad nowadays I have finally found time to put pen to paper in the hope that I can finally get the present that I have always wanted.

  One year I asked you for this item, but sadly I received ice hockey skates, pads, mask and stick. Irritating as the lake very rarely freezes and I hate team sports anyway I much prefer to play alone!

  I now realise that my mum, god rest her soul, was just trying to protect me. She knew I wanted the ‘Barbie Fashion Plaza’ Playset, she must have also known my insecurities over my sexuality. She had my best interests at heart, after all we’re talking about the seventies, and attitudes have changed nowadays. Back then it was inconceivable that your son really wanted to be and felt more comfortable as a girl.

  Nowadays I tend to keep myself to myself and am really comfortable with who I am. I’ve been a good girl for over fifteen years now. My transgressions during the eighties and early nineties were bad, I know this now. But to be honest most of those kids with their drinking alcohol, smoking drugs and general naughtiness really did need teaching a lesson. It was just unfortunate that due to my inability to communicate effectively and their over interest in each other’s sexy bits it ended with so many deaths.

  In conclusion I really think I deserve to receive the gift I have hankered so long for. Please, please, please send me the ‘Barbie Fashion Plaza Playset’, it would really help me put the past behind me at last.

  Your faithful servant

  Jasmine (formally Jason) Voorhees

  2

  My dearest brother, Santa Claus,

  I'm tired of shoveling coal.

  Existing in your shadow

  is a practice, growing old.

  I’ve handed out your judgment,

  the unworthy children, scold.

  In return I get the dungeon,

  covered thick in mold.

   

  I’d like some kind of showcase,

  this year as recompense.

  To go on as your underling

  makes less and less good sense.

  Some limelight for your brother,

  kindness that you might dispense.

   

  This one thing that I ask you for

  should come as no surprise.

  For if my wish goes unfulfilled,

  you’ll hear their anguished cries.

  I know your jolly outward show,

  is nothing more than lies.

  For in this world and all its things,

  It’s you, I most despise.

   

  The children on your nice list,

  will suffer at my hand.

  Their pain, it will be legendary,

  tales told ‘cross the land.

  I only ask my just deserts,

  so I might make my stand.

  The limelight for a moment, sir,

  or face my fiendish plan.

   

  Just one more word of warning, Claus,

  If you should be so brave.

  Don’t think there is a chance this year,

  Your precious you might save.

  Once the hallowed date arrives,

  And I come from my cave.

   

  One way or the other,

  You shall cower.

   

  And forever be my slave.

   

  Check your list and fill your sleigh,

  and put the word out, hoss.

  My children, dark and menacing,

  will no more take the loss.

  For centuries, you’ve overlooked them,

  Not knowing of the cost.

  This year.

  A spotlight.

  All I ask.

  Or you shall meet the boss.

   

  Love,

  Krampus

  3

  Dear Santa, 

  For the sake of time, I will keep my request brief. In short, I want a body

  Not a dead one, I am not a man bent on defiling a corpse, no. I need a body that I will be able to live in, you see, as mine expired some time ago. 

  I will admit, at first I enjoyed the freedom that came with being sans physical, but now I find that I reminisce too often about what it was like to eat, breathe, sleep, and even to kiss a woman. 

  Specifically, the body should be male, as that was my gender when I was among the living. A younger man would be much appreciated, but a middle aged man will also be acceptable. The body should be physically fit, this I must insist upon for my own sanity's sake. I think I should go mad at the irony of living once more only to find that I live in a physically unfit body, unable to remove myself from my bed.

  The body makes the man, you see, and a spirit without  a body is merely a ghost.

  I truly hope you seriously consider my request and look forward to a response. Thank you in advance.

  Sincerely,

  Samuel Jenkins, Jr.

  4

  Dear Santa,

  This is probably the dumbest thing I've done in a long time. I mean let's face it you're not even real...well, at least I don't think you are. Then again after what happened to me on a cold lonely night last February I really can't say what is and isn't real anymore.

  You see, last February I was attacked by...something. It bit me and ran. I have no idea what it really was although I want to say werewolf. It sounds too fantastical to be true, I know, but something large and furry came out of the woods while I was walking home through Central Park. It knocked me to the ground, biting, and worrying my arm until I was sure it would tear it off. Then it gave me this freaky ass smile and ran away. Pardon me for swearing Santa but c'mon, tell me a two hundred pound canine grinning and chortling at you isn't freaky enough to warrant some foul language.

  Four weeks later during the next full moon my body hurt all day. Like the worst flu aches you have ever experienced times a thousand. As the day grew into night the pain worsened. I thought I was dealing with swine flu or something and so drank almost a full bottle of NyQuil. The pain grew worse to the point it felt as though my flesh was being stripped from my bones. I remembered thinking the medicine was working because I felt so odd but then I passed out. 

  When I came to, I was covered in blood and fur. Looking around, I could see my neighbor's Great Dane, Scooby, lay just a few feet from me. He'd been torn to shreds and it was similar shreds to what I was covered in. Horrified, I looked around to make
sure my neighbor hadn't suffered the same fate, but luckily I found nothing else. I set to work and cleaned the whole mess up.

  It has been like that every full moon since. Please Santa --I'm begging you-- if you actually exist; take this curse from me. I can't handle it anymore and I am terrified I won't stick to dogs and cats. I am afraid I will hurt a person the next time. Please. All I want for Christmas is to be normal again.