My typing teacher in the ninth grade was a dedicated woman. she did her best to try and make me type right. Even though it didn't work, she was a pretty cool lady. One of my favorite assigments from ehr was writing a letter to santa. Now most ninth graders, when told to do this, groaned and booed and generally made excuses. Fifteen year old teenagers do not believe in santa, or if they do, they won't admit it. So we all typed up crappy little "give me an iPod dude" letters and went about our way.

Except me; I took a different appraoch. as it turned out i got a 100 grade and a few good laughs. I figured if they liked it that much it could be wrothy to put here. So, i hope you like it.

Dear Santa,

I have to tell you something that might come as a bit of a shock.

You are not real.

I know it must be tough to hear this—after all, no one likes thinking that they don’t exist—but you really aren’t an actual living being.

No living being could manage to eat milk and cookies from every single housearound the world and not hurl off the edge of the sleigh every ten minutes. No living being could be so fat (probably from all those cookies) and still manage to squeeze down even the tightest of chimneys. I’m sorry Santa, but it just isn’t possible. Besides, some people don’t even have chimneys! How do you get presents to them, tear a hole in the roof?

I’ve never seen any holes in the roofs of people around here who don’t have chimneys, and I don’t see “messes” all over the ground where all the milk and cookies might have been too much. I don’t even see scratch marks (from the sleigh, remember?) on my roof, and I have a chimney!

Plus, okay, I haven’t actually made a “wishlist” letter to Santa since I was five years old. How do you know what everyone wants if you don’t get any letters? Do you read minds?

I know you must have—well, you must think you have, since you don’t exist—a thousand or more very cool, hard-working, high-tech elves. But tell me, how do they make videogames up there in the North Pole? I’m not sure even elves have that kind of mass production capability.

Speaking of the North Pole, you don’t live there. I know you think you do, but you don’t. Incase nobody’s told you, the North Pole is uninhabitable. It’s freezing cold and windy and dark and for pity’s sake people have been up there and explored it and they haven’t seen any workshops!

Plus, the North Pole is so far away from everything. where do you get food and water and all that stuff? Oh, and how do you manage to get all the way from the North Pole and to my house and back, and to everyone’s house in the world and back, in one night? Those must be pretty fast reindeer.

Speaking of reindeer, they cant fly. I’m not even sure if they exist, but if they do, they cannot fly. Trust me on this. They have no wings. No way to support themselves (and a huge sleigh that does not have enough room for the world’s presents) in the air.

So, what with all this proof and everything, you must see my point. You cannot possibly exist. It’s just not possible. I realize it’s a tough cookie to swallow, but you can’t go around existing, or pretending to, when you don’t. Someone had to tell you sometime. I’m sorry it had to be me, but you really needed to hear this.

I hope there are no hard feelings between us—I just thought you really needed to know. As a peace offering, why don’t you come to my house after you finish this letter so we can have milk and cookies? Don’t forget to bring a good videogame—you owe me a rematch on Mario Kart!

Sincerely,

Liz

And that's it. Pretty weird, eh?