Dear Santa,

Dear Santa,

This is not meant to make you feel like you are somehow more important than the rest of the human race. As a matter of fact you might be a grown ass man with no job who spends the year smoking cheap cigarettes when in fact you should be focussing on nursing your bloated liver. In lay parlance, I’m implying that you are a useless retard.

However, this doesn’t mean I don’t wish you were just a straight up motherfucker like everyone else. Apparently people write you letters such as these to give you their wish lists and you deliver. For someone who has no job and no face…you spur interest in the child inside me. More or less because I first heard about your whole setup like two years ago. As a child, we didn’t believe in that shit…my parents never brought up a subject even infinitesimally close to your sorry ass. All my dad did on Christmas was make us dance to Congolese Lingala while he sipped on his well-earned brew and cheered.

For the next few minutes, I’m going to try hard and pretend that you actually do exist. I’ll even try to blot out the giant hedgehog doing a funny dance on my table and imagine that this is not in fact, another dream. Here’s a list of what I want for Christmas;

-          I wanted to put something fancy for my first wish like a ride – er, those Murcielago things or a new kidney or some rich boy crap but I won’t do that. Like wouldn’t it be the baddest thing if I got one of those Samsung Galaxy tabs? I’m not the phone obsessed type because I’m almost making a profession of losing phones. I’m saving up to by my next phone – a phone booth. But honestly after watching that ad, man I’ve to get me one of those babies. Apparently it “understands you.”

-          So like real shit, the very first and only thing I want this Christmas (or don’t want for this matter) is NO DRAMA.

The problem is that, the whole Christmas concept is based on drama. Like, imagine if we were in the Biblical times and your girlfriend, who hasn’t been giving you any and has no intentions of doing so, whatsoever looks you straight in the eye and tells you that she’s pregnant. I would say;

                Me: Well, who’s the father?!

                Her: The Holy Spirit.

                Me: So what are you telling me for? Go find him!

                Her: He said that you should be the father.

                Me: He what?! Some nerve he has!

                Her: He came to me last night –

Me: -- he came to what?! Bitch, you know what? Fuck it, I want to meet this Spirit guy…how long has this been going on?

               

Her: Oh, don’t be like that. He just came to me last night while I slept. One thing led to another and well…next thing you know, I was pregnant! The best part is that he said you should be his father and we can raise him together. Oh dear, isn’t that just adorable?

Me: Jesus Christ!!! (oh, I forgot…Jesus is not yet born). Um, thunder upon a moving mountain! (assuming that’s how they swore), woman you are despicable! I have waited seven seasons, to be handed the admiration of your deflowerment in case your memory is defective. So this guy just shows up from nowhere and you give up the plenteousness?

Her: You don’t understand.

Me: Please, may the gods grant me all the wisdom and patience to do so.

Her: Don’t worry, he will come and enter you too and you will feel at peace.

Me: Okay…so I just have to nurse you through pregnancy, raise the child as my own and we shall all have white clothes and a happy ending? Oh, and he gets to enter me at some point if I’m correct?

Her: Yeah, see it is not that complicated. So, are you okay with it?

Me: Oh, of course I’m okay with it sweet pea, right after I stab myself in the fucking throat! Please uninvite yourself from my presence you forlorn woman!

Her: You don’t understand, the human race depends on this baby. In fact, he said there are chances that we may not have any more children after that because this child is so so special…

Me: What the-- ?? Have you been drinking?

Her: Also, it is likely that very many soldiers are coming to kill us because they all want the baby to die. They’ll be at the front door in say, twenty minutes.

*  *  *

There’s honestly no way, she can convince me to go through with it. And yet dear old Joseph went through with it without causing this unnecessary Drama. I missed last Christmas because I was too busy holding grudges and causing drama for my family. This is a time to hold your little brothers and sisters over the balcony Micheal Jackson style and basically have fun. There’s this kid we used to bully back in the day with my brother. We used to lock him up in the fridge for hours and laugh our arses off. He is visiting this Christmas and he has grown way taller than me and I’m scared he’ll whoop my ass at every turn. But he chooses not to…mostly because he’s stupid but to small extent – because it is the right thing to do. So, in case your girl fucks another nigger today just hand him another pack of condoms because it is a result of some of these mishaps that we get the best blessings. So, dear Santa all I want is no drama this Christmas.

In simple terms you should probably collect your little gifts and stay away. You can come back when your beard-weave no longer looks like a gang of monkeys fornicated in it.

Oops, I think the hedgehog is becoming bigger. This might actually be a dream! It has started talking…I open one red eye and my baby sister is shaking me awake. I slide off the couch and she’s screaming like, “WAKE UP, IT’S CHRISTMAS!!!”

Merry Christmas Everyone!

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