dear mr. santa, sir

I’m so ashamed of myself. I’ve spent an entire lifetime pestering you, begging for pricey gifts and favors. Gimme, gimme, gimme; take, take, take. And what have I done for you? Bupkis. Not even a measly plate of cookies. I should be ashamed, dammit.

Please. Let me make it up to you. This year, let me do the giving and I won’t expect anything in return. Really, not even a thought. Unless … never mind. Well … no, forget it, I don’t need a bag of $50s. Just put that right out of your mind, okay?

Now, here’s my proposal:

Seeing as global warming is endangering your part of the world, melting glaciers and shrinking sea ice, I want you to have all the cold and snow and ice surely headed my way this winter. It’s yours. Every last snowflake, icicle, and frost-bitten toe. No strings attached.

They’ll be my gift to you. Heck, what do I need with arctic blasts and polar vortices and blizzards? I’ve never used them and I don’t enjoy having them around. They’re completely wasted on me, so I want you to have them. Every year. From now until the end of time. I mean it. They’re yours.

Well, you and the elves; the reindeer, polar bears, the glaciers, sasquatch. You guys need the cold and subzero temperatures. I have no use for the damn things. So, Merry Christmas, Santa dude, and ho ho ho.

Your friend, itty

PS. Seriously, forget the bag of $50s. And don’t even think about a suitcase stuffed with  $100s.

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