Dear Santa From Edd Sowder

by | Dec 24, 2017

Dear Santa,

Is it bad that I liked the Grinch better before he got a heart? Oh how I thought to staple the antlers to his dog was a superb idea? How about this? I wanted Frosty to melt forever. Shit, make snow cones outta that big fat coal-eyed popsicle.

For years I wrote you about different things that I would really like for Christmas. And for those same years, I got nothing that I asked for. Piles upon piles of socks, underwear, and more clothes than I could handle or store. Of course, I was a believer in you. And you let me down time and time again. Oh, wait, you did get me those cowboy boots I wanted that 12th year…no, that was a gift for my birthday. Hmm. Let’s go back in time and see what I got and what I wanted. From the first to the latest.

When I was able to ask for things from you at the ripe old age of four, I asked for the Matchbox Set of Vehicles and ended up with a Raggedy Andy. Big difference there, Fat Man. I did like Raggedy Andy, but hell, I was four what did I really know other than I did not get ice cream after dinner because I threw my brother down the stairs. That was ’77.

In ’78, we were in a different city, toys changed and so did what I wanted. I was after all five now and I was in school. My friends in kindergarten had ideals of what they wanted for Christmas and now I had more appropriate ideas as now I was half the year through my first year in school. So, when we asked you what we wanted for Christmas, I asked for the most coveted item I could. I was sure to get it too. Never mind that I was going to do surgery on him with my dad’s razor knife and had a line drawn on him to fix his heart issues. I even had the work gloves from the garden on. Sterility is key. Never mind that, I am getting off track. I asked you for the AFX electric car racing set. What I got was Connect Four and Hungry Hungry Hippos. Dude, seriously…you must have known that I would kick my brother’s ass at those games every time.

In ’79 there was a little less disappointment…I asked for Superman and Batman and I got Batman and the Batmobile, plus Robin. I cannot really complain too much. Those toys would be worth a small fortune now if I still had them but alas, they were lost to moves and to dogs and hand-me-downs and the like. Mom cleaned out my toys as I grew much like our clothes.

The 80’s were here and with that, the invention of handheld video games and the home gaming systems had already come out but were off the list due to prices. I knew this but the handheld ones were attainable though, so, I will give you one guess what I asked you for and what I got, you fat bastard. Cosmic Combat Electronic Game. Now, I did not get this. I got the Plushy cuddly Incredible Hulk, and of course the same clothes as usual. Oh, and Santa…you asshole, brought me a Mr. Fucking Potato Head. Granted this is also the year my sister was born and she took a ton of money to care for her. But Santa, how could you dude. I had not even hurt my brother at all. Honest.

Eight years old and here we are at Christmas again. By now, my faith in Satna is starting to wane and I am figuring out that Mom and Dad are just getting me some crap to call from Santa and all that BS. But, like a good little follower, I write to you again in hopes that I will get something kick ass. I asked for a BB Gun. Here is the kicker, the year I am about to give up on you completely, I get one. Not from you though. It was the very last gift I got from my grandfather. So, once again, you failed me but at least my grandpa came through for me on what I wanted that year. You know I had that gun until I was fourteen and my stepbrother stole it and moved back to his dad’s house in Tennessee. I should find him and hit him in his eye but from what I understand he is now gay and lives with his mommy still. He was always a little different.

’81, Nope not doing it. The letter was written, and it was sent. My sister got everything, she was one after all and got tons of shit from the family, brother and I got shafted. I did, however, slam a metal swing into my brother’s forehead earlier that year and left a scar on him to this day. Well, he walked behind it while I was trying to sling it over the bar to shorten the chain to swing on. But what did I ask for that year? Oh, yeah! I remember now…The Electronic Dominoes Clock set which I thought was totally badass. I got a bunch of cars, clothes, shoes and oh, yeah a Star Wars action figure or two and they were not even cool ones. I got like Greedo and a Jawa. WTF? No Han, no Luke, no Vader, not even Leia? Or Lando? I got the two most useless figures ever from Santa. You suck Santa. Or your elves can’t read.

Okay, here we are in 1982, the year of E.T, Magnum PI, and The Wrath of Khan…the original not that CGI one with people walking around and fighting on a speeding aircraft through Earth Cities. I think I was yet again let down in the Christmas time yuletide giving. I did receive my first masters of the Universe though I got He-man and Battle Cat, I asked for a gas-powered radio-controlled airplane.

’83. Here I am ten now and have stopped writing you. The reason why you ask? Because one can only handle so much disappointment before they just give up. I left you cookies and milk. Carrots for that reindeer of yours. I did not write to you again until I was twenty and my son was born. I asked you then for something for him. You see, when he was very small, I was very broke. His mother and I barely could afford to do anything for ourselves and that was hard to deal with. I worked two full-time jobs and she took care of him.

So, I asked that the house that we were living in that we rented would somehow not have to have a rent payment due that month because we seriously did not have the money. You let me down, we got evicted and had to move shortly after Christmas. Shit happens, right? We survived. I worked even more, and I did not write you anymore after that. I did, however, help my son ask you for gifts and I made damned sure that he got every gift he asked for and never let him not believe in you. Even when his mother and I broke up, he still had to believe in you. Until he was ten himself and came to me and told me that he knew that I paid for all of his gifts and that I was Santa. So, with that, the lineage died.

Something you probably do not know Santa, every single time something horrific that changed my life forever happened to me…it was around Christmas. Yep, every time I was sick or lost something incredible in my life, Christmas. Job, love, family member, home, health. Christmas. So, with that, I developed a hatred for Christmas. I still hate it. I am 44 and nothing hurts me more than to see lights/trees to go up in the stores before Halloween has even passed. I barely give gifts to adults anymore. I still do to kids in my family and my son but I never ask for anything anymore since it is a lifelong waste of my time to ask for things that I will not get. I would rather just do it myself and if I want something, go buy it like I have since I was old enough to shave. There is no need for you anymore Santa. Mom and Dad have been doing it right for years, so you can stay in the North Pole this year roasting your nuts by the fire with a huge cup of hot cocoa, shoveling cookies down your fat throat. Don’t choke. I hope you die of a sugar coma. Peace on Earth and all that.