Dear Father Christmas,
The seasons have burned away with haste and the cycle of unfathomable misery is about to begin anew. No one really knows what illness of the mind causes you to hold us in such loathing and why you force us to endure the torment of existence, but we imagine that you, too, must suffer so greatly that you would project it unto us.
You are not without a morsel of benevolence though, Father Christmas, as once a year you seek to alleviate our almost constant despondency with material gifts of your own design. You might suffocate us for 364 days a year, you might masturbate wildly and administer our torments from your throne of shredded limbs, but for every spiteful finger on your punishing hands, there is a hangnail of kindness.
So, we savour each moment of your annual pity and choose our wishes wisely. The children you've yet to corrupt write their wish lists, make the preparations for your biscuit offering, and totter off to bed where they escape into the quiet medicine of sleep. The rest of us simply wait, hope, and be thankful for the 55th day of Mercymas.
As non-compliance results in immediate extermination, I will now share with you my list, or rather, those punishments of your design that I wish to be freed from.
1. Keep House music off of college campuses.
They just aren't ready for it yet. Every slight variation on its sound is immediately isolated and repackaged as something new and 'hip'. Do you know how many different kinds of House music there is? 27 according to Wikipedia, and that's without counting the many new genres that are birthed every day from Ket-riddled minds in €250 student apartments. One day, we will all be able to enjoy House music without turning into something akin to early man obsessed with his own erection. But that is not this day, nor is it tomorrow.
2. Redesign Avonmore milk caps.
Though most of your daily tortures are furnished with some kind of dark irony or karma backwash, I see nothing but callous nihilism in your treatment of the Avonmore milk carton. Though you have recently introduced the simple and humanitarian one twist cap on many Avonmore products, that Satanic plastic pull on the inside of the cap remains on select products (namely, the 500ml carton). You simply do not know what heartache it causes when the flimsy plastic pull breaks from the lid of the carton, leaving you with no other option but to take a knife to it in order to access its succulent moo juice.
3. Make Tears For Fears fight The Cult.
"Everybody Wants to Rule the World" is literally the worst song to come from a time when songs bore a majesty not seen since. Conversely, "Fire Woman" is one of the best songs to come from this period. As with most things you do, the weighing scales often tip in the favour of suffering, and so it is with doubtless enthusiasm that you will grant me my wish to see Tears For Fears locked inside a steel cage with The Cult. I want to be able to paint a harrowing triptych of TFT's agony.
4. Teach me how to tie knots well.
I've always dreamed of becoming a sailor, bound to the sea with assorted knots and a fancy hat, but in your cruel and never ending joke, you have made it so I can hardly tie my shoelaces, let alone a bowline. Please undo this bitter cosmic happenstance. Wait a moment, sailors do tie people up and do sexy stuff to them, don't they? Or am I thinking of bondage enthusiasts? I think it's the last one. That's what I want. I want to be really good at that. For reasons.
5. A puppy mascot for my drug lab.
Morale has been quite low in the lab recently following the death of poor Lucia when we attempted to extract tryptamine from her. I know in my heart of hearts that the only way to cheer up the remaining four Portuguese slaving away in the lab is to provide them with a furry friend that they will doubtlessly try to extract typtamine from, kill in the process, and mourn for at least a week.
6. A night of restful sleep for American police.
It must be really hard publicly executing black people for even the slightest disturbance, or even without reason at all, so I would like to use my final wish to provide the hugely corrupt and bloodwashed American justice system with a nice pillow to lay their weary heads upon after a long, hard day of snarling fascism.
Merry Christmas.
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