BEFORE you read Santa’s letter to me, I strongly recommend you read the previous letter I wrote to him. Also as with all these posts: reader discretion is strongly advised.
Ho ho ho! Fuck you. You think you’re the first person to make a crack about my weight? Oh let’s all make fun of the guy who spends his life bringing toys and happiness to children, and let’s call him fat. Well fuck you you little shit- I DO have Diabetes and I’m on Metformin. I’m on a waiting list to see your Dad. I’ve also joined a gym- speaking of that have you been working out? Oh no? You can’t? On chemotherapy and can’t work out? Whose laughing now bitch?
And I do know which Nikhil Joshi you are. And yes there are a million of you. But you’re the only one in St. John’s so you can feel better about it. And no, you’re not the only one with cancer so stop thinking that makes you fucking original.
Oh you’re surprised Santa is cursing? Well maybe I’ve got my own fucking problems without having you dump all your cancer shit onto me. I’ve got union issues, and flight issues. You can’t just fly around anymore you know. I mean it helps that I’m white and old, but still- no fucking picnic.
But since it’s that time of the year why don’t we talk about some of things you want? The first thing you want is for me to think of and get gifts for your parents. You lazy little shit- they’ve been looking after your cancer riddled ass for 4 months- if you have time to “write” (read: jerk off) onto the internet 3 times a week you have time to think of a good gift for them. You don’t want to go to a crowded mall because you have cancer? You could have shopped online if you thought about this earlier. Seriously for a brown kid who loves Christmas you are really behind the 8 ball. And fine, you and your family get props for having the spirit of Christmas- but you still can’t have JFC because if someone coughs on you you might fucking die. So if you want to spin the roulette table go right ahead, but I did that in Vegas and ended up sleeping with the reindeer. Do you know how much Reindeer shit? A fuck load man. There was shit EVERYWHERE. I mean good thing we were staying at a motel where a crack head was murdered- standards were low, but still, a losing streak in Vegas is an ugly thing. Mrs. Clause left me shortly after that. 100 years of marriage over because of one little STD I gave her. She gave me socks for the last 50 fucking Christmas’s and I never complained once.
To steal a line from you “But I fucking digress”- think of your own goddam gifts and pick them up during the day. There shouldn’t be too many people there. If you have a problem bring a surgical mask- sure you’ll look fucking weird, but a brown guy rocking out to a Michael Buble Christmas is strange enough so go for it. Remember to wash your hands. I do see people whether they are naughty or nice and the vast majority don’t wash up after going to the bathroom. Nasty. Oh and your ‘Santa is a pedophile’ joke wasn’t original either shit sipper.
Let me see what was the last thing on your letter? Oh right. You want to be magically cured of cancer. Okay why don’t you climb into your closet bureau and go to fucking Narnia? Oh wait there is no Narnia or magic cure for cancer? Well the shut the fuck up and be thankful for the bag of chemo I’m sending you on the 27th. Luckily someone using science has found a cure for Hodgkin’s Lymphoma, it just requires you to not be such a little bitch and complain all the time. *Whine* But Santa I don’t want anymore chemo…well tough luck, I didn’t want to spend my time perusing the internet for Christmas themed pornography- the holidays are tough for us all motherfucker.
P.S. Your dad bought you that ping pong set when you were 6. I’m not even fucking real.