Santa Claus
North Pole, Earth


Dear Santa,
I have been a good boy.

It really wasn't my fault what happened at Todd's Office party. It was Justin who spiked the punch with too much orange juice. I can't help it if I drank 4 glasses. It was so good---smelled and tasted just like cinnamon.

I thought it was funny when I put Rick's hat on my head and danced the tango on the couch while singing `Cocaine'. I didn't mean to break Todd's I-Pod and don't know why Todd would accuse me of grand theft auto.

I don't remember calling Mike's wife a gelatinous sheep---even though she looked like one with red eye shadow and blue lipstick!

And when I threw up on Anne's husband's ear, it was only because I ate too much of that taco.

After all that fun, I admit I was a little tired. So I fell asleep on my way home and drove my van through my neighbor's roof. I don't think that was any reason for my neighbor to call me a boring duckbilled platypus and have me arrested for double homicide!

So, Santa...here I sit in my jail cell on Christmas Eve, all stupid and adorable. And I'm really not to blame for any of this exciting stuff. Please bring me what I want the most---bail money!

Sincerely and slowly yours,
Keith (Really a nice boy!)

P.S. It's only 19 bucks!


Honestly. I don't remember calling her a gelatinous sheep.