You must be surprised that I am writing to you today, the 26th of December. Well, I would like to clear up certain things that have occurred since the beginning of the month, when, filled with illusion, I wrote you a letter and asked for a bicycle, an electric train set, a pair of rollerblades, and a football uniform.
I destroyed my brain studying this year. I had the best grades in school and no one in the neighbourhood behaved better than me. I went on errands for my parents, I helped the elderly cross the street. There was virtually nothing within reach that I would not do for humanity.
What balls you have for leaving me a fucking yo-yo, a lame whistle, and a pair of ugly socks. What the fuck were you thinking, you fat prick? As if you hadn’t fucked me enough, you gave that little shit across the street so many toys he can’t even walk into his house.
Don’t let me see you trying to fit your big, fat ass down my chimney next year. I’ll fuck you up. I’ll throw rocks at those stupid reindeer and scare them away so you’ll have to walk back to the north pole, you fat slob. Fuck you, Santa. Next year you’ll find out just how bad I can be, you fat cocksucker.