A Letter By Jingles(Mrs. Claus)

Dear Santa,

I tried telling you all this so many times, but it seems that you only listen if people, especially children, write letters to you, so here I go.

Ok honey, look, you have loads of issues and its about time someone told you about them. And By issues I mean SERIOUS issues!

Firstly you have got to realise that you are, come right down to it, a freaking postman! Yes, sweetheart, you are nothing but a fat old postman who delivers toys, who works on the one day when all other postmen have a holiday.

Secondly, what is with you and going down chimneys? I mean, its disgusting, uncivilised behaviour! Where were you when man was evolving? Darling they have something called a bell nowadays, which you can ring and wait for someone to open the door. Then you hand over the gift, tell him to sign on the paper and if your thirsty you can ask for some water, just like ALL OTHER POSTMEN AND COURIER BOYS DO! By the way, I have always wanted to know, what do you do, if there is a fire in the fireplace?

And must you always wear that red, baggy old rug? I mean what is it with you and that red carpet that you wear? Red is sooooo 17^th century. Mauve is the flavour of the season, and am tired of telling you that. All you want is red!!! I sometimes wonder if you’re a secret Russian communist spy or something.

Oh and honey Incase you didn’t notice it all this while, you have let yourself go completely. You have a stomach the size of a cave. I keep telling you, “go easy on the Foster’s” but no! Look at yourself with your gigantic beer belly. It wobbles every time you breathe. You say you’re putting on a bit, I say you’ve put on a lot! Oh and please for heaven sake will you get that white bush off your face! Am tired of it! Every time I want to get close to you that ugly beard starts wagging at me!

Darling, whoever told you it was a good idea to set up a toy factory in the middle of nowhere a.k.a the north pole was wrong. Because it’s not. I mean its friggin cold up here and our little igloo is cosy but its not exactly what I wanted from life. You should have seen my father’s expression when I told him that I live in an igloo and our family vehicle is a flying sleigh driven by a red-nosed reindeer called Rudolf. “I told you didn’t I, that the fellow was no good! Look what he’s done to you! I always knew he was worthless ever since he told me he wanted to start a toy factory in the north pole with his elf friends.” Were my father’s exact words.

Finally darling, you have got to improve your vocabulary. All you ever say is HO HO HO!!! I ask you if you fed the reindeer and its just ho ho ho. I ask you if you I look fat in my new dress and its just ho ho ho. We make love and all I were is ho ho ho!!! Am sick and tired of your ho ho-ing. You have got to understand that the only place on earth, where you make sense is in Maharashtra. Because in Marathi “ho” means “yes”. So when you go to Maharashtra with your flying sleigh do all the ho ho-ing you like, till then do learn some other words as well.

Look at the end of the day, I love you and I married you for who you are a fat, bushy, old crazy-ass postman cum toymaker, who owns a flying sleigh, and I am mighty proud of you and what you’ve achieved but you have got to realize that what am saying is for your good and personal growth and of course to save our marriage.

Love,

Jingles! (Mrs. Claus)

By, Editor Man