MENTAL NOTE

Though we cannot make our sun stand still, yet we will make him run.
Blue, resist the urge to use facebook. You can do it. Good luck.
Cats and dogs can be friends. So can cowboys and indians. So can we.
Why try to be the best when there's no hierarchy in heaven?

Sunday, October 19, 2014

Dear Santa . . .

Dear Santa, 

I'm sorry to interrupt your well-deserved vacation on the Bahamas (yes, I know), but I'm desperate. I'm not going to beat around the bush: I need to borrow one of your elves. It's kind of an emergency.

As you are well aware, I've always been a naughty boy. I dream about hot tubs and camels at the beach while you're having your way with Mrs. Santa in the name of holy matrimony. Now, I know what you're thinking.... You're thinking, that boy has been sleeping on that couch way too long, so he needs this elf. You're so right. I knew you'd understand. Great speedos by the way. Does Mrs. Santa still call you the Dirty Pole? I bet she does. She's always been into that Passion On Ice kinda thing that you once so wanted to show me. I think you said you were skilled? Oh I remember, and I still don't think that was funny, you dirty red hat. I know what kind of present you wanted to give me. See, now I'm digressing. Do you think my readers have nothing else to do while you're playing Who's Your Santa with the locals?

Focus.

So, what I need is an elf. A sexy elf. An elf that's one of a kind. An elf that blows... you know, your mind away. I've been riding that couch of mine (quote) way too long (unquote), and I'm told by Batman himself that Angie is no longer interested in my repertoire of dazzling blue tricks on a stick. Of course, that has nothing to do with my wanting to borrow an elf. See, I need an elf to infiltrate into the government — you know, to make things right. Maybe whisper a few revolutionary ideas in The President's ear too so we can have world peace instead of X-mas? (Politicians tend to be good listeners when sexy elves talk dirty to them in the name of all things right.) You know that. You call it matrimony. What do you mean you prefer X-mas? And you're still asking me why I'm blue? How could you even say such a thing...

Blue

P.S.: I'm sending you this letter in one of my dreams. Since I don't remember any of my dreams, you know I'm 100% innocent. Hello... politicians.... are you eavesdropping on me?
P.S.2: 66 days 'till X-mas. Yay! So get your butt of those Bahamas and send us some presents. Health In A Box will do just fine.
P.S.3: Today's my Mom's birthday. Maybe you could send her that box instead of me. (So what if that's not grammatical?)

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