by Timothy Edward Jones

Created on: September 18, 2009

Deer Santy Claws,

How's ever thang up there in the North Pole? This here's Sonny down here in the south. The only pole I thank we have down here is a few miles down the road at the Kitty Kat Klub. I thank one of yer girlie elfs is hoochie coochie dancin' on it. She works the morning shift down there 'cause the manager says she is way too freakishly short to be dancin' after high noon. Anyhow, I really wish you didn't live up north. I just can't stand yankees.

The reason why I am rightin' you this letter is 'cause I just can't make Christmas good for my boys this year. And I got a bone to pick with you about last year, too. My boys, Rip and Zip, the Siamese twins are gettin' on up in years and they are a-wantin' bigger stuff that I just can't afford. With this here Obama economy, my yard sale entrepreneurin' is a little stagnate to say the least. The boys really have too much stuff already but they just keep askin' for more. They got a bootlegged cassette tape of Taylor Swift (I know it's Devil music but they are little rebels), they got a fake silver stud piercing in their common tongue and for their birthday I let 'em go play on the swingset down at the park across the street from my favorite waterin' hole. I even ordered a real expensive shot of liquor to toast their birthday. All of this prosperity they got and they still ain't happy. If you ask me, I thank they're gettin' kinda uppity.

But I can't let 'em down for this Christmas in the year of our Lord 2000 and 9. I asked 'em one day when I was drunk what it was that they want for Christmas. Well, they'll be fifteen before you know it so they want the bigger thangs now. They says, "Daddy, we want a digitized calculator." Whoa! Yeah! You heard me right, Santy Claws. A fancy digitized calculator! I don't thank they understand that money don't grow on trees. That's a pretty tall order to fill even for a yard sale entrepreneur like yers truly.

I was hopin' this year would be my breakthrough year for the yard sellin' business. But thanks to them yahoos up there in yer neck of the woods (Washington, DC), the hole market has done crashed. So I'm countin' on you to supply one them fancy digitized calculators. Rip and Zip have been good boys this year. The only instance we had with 'em so far is listenin' to that old Devil music like Taylor Swift way too loud. You should see 'em, Santy Claws! When that Swift gal gits to howlin' real high and annoyin', ol' Rip and Zip gits to bangin' their head against the linolium

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