This is what I came up with...
I don’t really know how to start a letter to you, because I don’t believe in you and I never really have, though in my youth my parents tried to blame some of their mediocre gifts they gave me on you. I knew they weren’t from you because even though I didn’t think you existed I had always heard great things about you. Great things — not, “Yeah, I asked for this, but instead Santa decided to get the cheaper, off-brand version of it in a different color.” No, it was always, “Santa brought me exactly what I wanted!” So, I figured my parents out pretty quickly.
Anyway. In an effort to no longer ruin anyone under the age of 7’s Christmas again, I’ve been encouraged to write you a letter. It feels like community service, so I’m not sure my heart will be in it, but a letter’s a letter, right? I feel like in this day and age an e-mail would be more efficient. Have you thought about streamlining and efficiency much, Santa? I guess we can discuss that later when you aren’t so busy or something.
I consider myself to very much be an adult and that being said, I typically buy myself things I want or need. I don’t ask others for gifts. So, it’s kind of like why am I even writing you this letter? I don’t know, Santa. I just don’t know.
I guess I wouldn’t be mad if you brought me a new set of tires for Christmas. That is legitimately the only thing I can think of that I don’t want to buy myself, but I probably should. If you want to bring me some stocking stuffers, please don’t bring me bubble gum or cheap Christmas candy. I prefer Claritin— you can buy it OTC.
Alright, guy, I’m out.
Does anyone ever wish you a ‘Happy 4th of July’ or anything? Or is it all ‘Merry Christmas’ all the time? That’d get pretty old.
I have a feeling you suffer from diabetes, high-cholesterol, rosacea, and/or obesity. If you need a good doctor, I know about 6,000. Also, how many mothers have you kissed? Oh man, so many questions… so many questions.