IRC-Galleria

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 fucking yo-yo,
a stupid whistle and a pair of socks?? What the fuck
were you thinking, you fat son of a bitch, that you've
taken me for a sucker the whole fucking year to come
out with some shit like this under the tree?? As if you
hadn't fucked 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
fuck you up. I'll throw rocks at those stupid reindeer
and scare them away so you'll have to walk back to the
fucking North Pole, just like what I have to do now
since you didn't get me that fucking bike.

FUCK YOU SANTA. Next year you'll find out how
bad I can be, you FAT-SON-OF-A-BITCH.

Sincerely,
Little Johnn


BARBIE'S LETTER TO SANTA:

Dear Santa,

Listen you fat troll, I've been saving your ass every year,
being the perfect Christmas Present, wearing skimpy
bathing suits in December and dressing in fake Channel at
sappy tea parties. I hate to break it to ya', Santa, but
it's payback time. There had better be some changes around
here, or I'm gonna call for a nationwide meltdown, and
trust me, you don't wanna be around to smell it.

These are my demands for Christmas 1999:

1. Sweat pants and an oversized sweatshirt. I'm sick of
looking like a hooker in hot pink bikinis. Do you have
any idea what it feels like to have nylon and Velcro up
your butt? I don't suppose you do.

2. Real underwear that can be pulled on and off. That
cheap-o molded underwear some genius at Mattel came up
with looks like cellulite!

3. A REAL man... I don't care if you have to go to Hasbro
to get him, bring me GI JOE. Hell, I'd take Tickle-Me-Elmo
over that pathetic bump of a boytoy, Ken. And what was
up with that earring anyway? HELLO!?!

4. It's about time you made us all anatomically correct.
Give me arms that actually bend so I can push the
aforementioned Ken-wimp away once he is anatomically correct.

5. Breast reduction surgery. 'Nuff said.

6. A jog-bra. To wear until I get the surgery.

7. A new career. Pet doctor, schoolteacher and make real
money.

8. A new, more 90s persona. Maybe "PMS Barbie," complete
with a pint of cookie dough ice cream and a bag of chips.

9. No more McDonald's endorsements. The grease is wrecking
my vinyl complexion.

10. Mattel stock options. It's been 40 years - I think
I deserve a piece of the action. Considering my
valuable contribution to society and Mattel, I think these
demands are reasonable. If you don't like it, you can
find yourself a new bitch for next Christmas. It's that
simple.

Yours truly,
Barbie