Dear Santa,
I can’t believe I am writing a letter to a fat man who comes down a chimney and eats fucking cookies. Richard told me I had to write this or I am off the blog. Well, I guess you fatties have to stick together. This is the biggest waste of time, I have ever done. I have been fucking nice at being naughty. I know you aren’t gonna show up at my house. If you did, I would fly to the North pole before you got home from the midnight ride and fuck the living hell out of your wife. So this year I would I want, I would like for you to give Whitney the biggest case of flaming herpes known to mankind. No one actually sleeps with her through their own free will. I want Justin to kicked in the nuts by a midget on each day that ends in y. I also want him to meet a girl, start making out with her then realize she was born a man. I want you to fulfill Danielle’s wish from you. She is a girl who knows her assholes. She is the most sensible writer on this blog. And finally, I am asking for Richard’s head on a silver platter. I want him to die in a very creative. I want him to fall in a skillet full of bacon and sizzle a slow and painful greasy death. He is already greasy enough to fry everything on his own. If that would happen you make me the happiest Stick Figure alive. I also want Kim Possible, naked, holding my mole rat. Oh and a slinky. No reason other than those things are the shitz.
Figure it Out
Stick figure Dan