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Featured version: 8 December 2006 |
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Thursday, September 11, 2025
Dear Santa,
I know this might seem like an unexpected departure to you, seeing as we made all those plans to visit Easter Island and go on an egg hunt, but I just don't see things working out that way. I'm sorry about this — but I've been stuck in this nightmare world for months now, and writing this letter is my last chance of a wake up call. I just need to kick you while you're down, before the snooker comes on the telly. I want to tell you that I think you are the true identity of the Zodiac Killer, but I don't think we're right for each other. First of all, we're not really compatible. You are a card-carrying member of the Hair Club for Men, and I am not. You like forcing naughty school children to read the Necronomicon, painting your eyelids with pictures of eyeballs, and releasing frogs into preschool kitchens, and I'm just not sure I can ever share your joy in those things. How can two people so different ever make it for the long haul? I think we should date other people. But I want you to know that I'll think of you whenever someone asks me to define the word "ugliness". I'd really like us to become supervillains and plot to conquer the world together (after which I will kill you as there can only be one true Master), if that's okay with you. I think we can do it. We had some good times, even if they only lasted a few microseconds. Take care of yourself and never forget that I'm being entirely serious.
~ Your sister. |