Dear Posterchild for Insulin,
I see it is time we have this conversation again. I’m not going to take it easy on you this year Fat Fuck Chuck. I have a lot of bones to pick with you. First, how did you get the nickname of Father Christmas? Because if you were my father, I would want to be emancipated. What kind of Christmas would I get? I would wind up at a eating Denny’s like the little shit in the Santa Clause. Second, I know you see me when I sleep. I want you to know that is why I started to sleep naked. Stop staring at me, you creepy fat bastard. Third, why does it matter if we are good or bad? You and I both know it is more fun to be naughty. But I guess your definition of naughty is sticking a candy cane up your jolly man pussy.
Time to discuss what I want. I want the demise of the guy who created me. No matter what happens, each year I have to deal with his bullshit. See, if he were not here, I wouldn’t have to write a letter to you. And you wouldn’t be confused by all the words higher than the grade level you achieved in school. And for the people who are reading this, that is 91.8% of the words in this story. Here is how I want the demise to go, I want to lace his Pepsi with ExLax. And not the kind of poo juice that have flavor. I want this shit to go undetected. He will drink glass after glass due to his addiction to the sugary beverage and needing something to quench his thirst while binging YouTube videos of people who are going to be way more successful. The urge to go to the bathroom will hit, and he will race to the bathroom. Once inside, the door is locked from the outside. Learning that while the rush of all the terrible comes flooding out, he has no toilet paper. The only thing in the room that will replace toilet paper is one of those As Seen On TV Grass Pads that dogs pee on. Realizing the TP is gone, he will have to butt scoot on the grass causing the most painful rash this side of the Mississippi!
I also want my god damn slinky you fat numpty.
Figure It Out,
P.S. I viewed Mrs. Claus on Tinder; soon she will be with a real man.