What I Don't Want for Christmas

Dear Santa,

          I’ve been thinking for quite a long time now, about what I should ask for this year. As Christmas approaches I find myself beating my head with a club in attempts to come up with the most brilliant gift request, but unfortunately this usually results in migraines instead. In past years, coming up with something I wanted for Christmas was a piece of cake because I would always just ask you for what I honestly wished to have. However I’ve learned throughout my many Christmases that if I request something “too extreme” I am always met by cold, slimy disappointment knocking at my door. Why is this Santa? I thought your elves could make anything a child could wish for because they possessed magical powers. BUT NO! I come along and ask for something truly unique, and yet, I receive it not. What is this cruel torment you send me ye Old Saint Nicholas. Nevertheless, I shall cease my rambling complaints and instead be grateful for the less awesome things you usually give me. But you shall not make a fool of me this year Christopher Cringle, I shall be disappointed no more! I’m not going to tell you what I want this year because I know you won’t bring it, so instead I’ll tell you what I don’t want. So here it is you jolly plump man.

I do not want:

·         Clothes that make me look as fat as you.

·         Strange collectibles that I don’t even collect, such as snow globes or papier-mâché ducks.

·         T-shirts that say annoying things like “Girls Rule” or “I’m a Diva” on them.

·         A marriage proposal from a bearded stranger.

·         3 French hens, 2 Turtle Doves, OR a partridge in a pear tree. Don’t you know I hate birds with a passion?

·         A one way ticket to Thuqbah.

·         A letter opener.

·         Coupons to the butcher shop.

·         Another baby brother or sister.

·         Cancer

·         A box of foreign chocolates that taste like something your reindeer pooped out.

·         A happy meal toy.

·         An album of pictures from when I was twelve.

·         A cold.

·         Packets of ketchup and mustard.

·         A dead ferret hanging from the Christmas tree.

·         One of those Dora the Explorer dolls that can’t stop saying “Come on vamanos! Everybody let’s go!”

·         An autographed poster of Rebecca Black.

·         Cavities.

·         A pet yak.

·         A couple of bee stings.

·         A dartboard with my face on it.

So Father Christmas, if you manage to not bring me any of these things, I promise I shall be very happy this Christmas.