Dear Santa Blob:
How do you do it, you Polar Punk. Last year I was sure my uncle, at least, had realized I was too old for the books about cute bunnies and duckies my mother buys me (secondhand, when she can find a good Book Fair, thanks to you, you red-coated rat) and was going to send me something cool. But NO. He had to ask you about Christmas shopping, and you sold him on the idea of old postcards being a perfect gift. Not for me, you fat foob. Now, THIS year, I think I have convinced him I’m old enough to start learning to drive, and am expecting a nice red sportscar, bright purple with real leather seats. Do NOT mess this up for me, Santa Boob, or I am going to start promoting global warming, and try to drown you out once and for all.
FILLED WITH INTENSE TREACHERY
Dear Full of IT:
I do so look forward to your letter each year, but you should know by now, Plum Dumpling, that I wish you everything you deserve. I’m sure your uncle will decide on the very thing which will make you glow with inner feeling.
I can only imagine what you’d be like on the highways. Surely, you would exhibit the same degree of maturity which has always impressed me in your letters. (Not a bit influenced by all those bunnies, I see.)
But if you do wind up with the Jaguar of your dreams, I do hope you realize that, as with any recipient of a Christmas cat, that you will be responsible for it, and take care to clean up any little problems you may encounter along the way.
Unless your uncle also provides you with a garage fully staffed with mechanics (and I’m sure you’ve made subtle hints about this as well) you will need to tend to that car’s every need. These modern cars, wonders though they may be, are not immune to the same old problems which have afflicted drivers for eons. Did you go for gasoline, electric, or a combination? Any way you look at it, you need to feed and water your new pet.
It may not be too late, Gingerbread Outhouse, to reconsider your gift and think about all the possibilities of mass transit. You won’t have nearly as many maintenance problems with, say, a year’s worth of mass transit. All you really need to worry about then is losing your pass. If that doesn’t sound like your sort of thing, there are other options. How rich IS your uncle? Could he buy you your own little railroad? You could run your friends out to Tiffany or Kate Spade or even Tesla.
I quite fancy the idea of you as a railroad tycoon, Quinoa Fruitcake. There are more rules now than in the good old days, but I think you’d manage it very well. In any case, I hope your uncle brings you JUST what you need most, and you enjoy it in the brand new year.
Blogsy Babbles 