Dear Santa ©

Dear Santa

This Christmas I want a divorce. I can see those “Ho ho Ho’”s becoming “But, why my dear”s. And of course, you are wondering, indeed getting rather annoyed at the appropriateness of WRITING this to you. But you see my dear, ( or rather not so dear any more) this is the only form of communication you take seriously. A letter addressed to you at Christmas time- every other talk, phone, plea you simply disregard.

And before you consult your list to see if I deserve what I am asking for, let me tell you I have been very nice indeed. Oh yes, nice in cooking, cleaning, mopping, scrubbing, polishing, even delousing those reindeer and tidying up after those elves. You can claim- they were there to help me. But when did any of them as much as lift a finger to help about in the house? A constant grumbling on how you exploited them, making toys and repairing old ones- with no overtime, no holiday bonus. So the ones who “helped” around the house were particularly malevolent- remember your how you found your favorite goblet smashed- well I had to deal with that every single day. That and quieting down an Elf-Union rebellion when last Christmas you were away on you rounds. Even talking to those pesky creatures is bad enough as it is.

Then there is the whole living at the North Pole prospect of it. Aurora Borealis for entertainment- and that’s it. No movies, no bowling alleys, no stores, no malls, no nothing- not even another human being in sight. Night for 6 months then endless day- and an occasional Polar bear- which poor thing scuttles away as soon as it can. Maybe a surly walrus or two to break the even monotony. And the cold. Let me not even discuss your aesthetic taste. red white and green- day in and day out, no autumn flame colors, no pinks, no blues either, just a RWG palette- suits you- you are color blind- but what about me? I need something else to look at at times.

Top that with an unrelieved meal of milk and cookies. It is bad enough that you sustain yourself on gooey things made from refined flour and refined sugar, but to impose the same super fat diet on me- too the extent that I am beginning to develop a lactose phobia is more than cruelty. Why can we not have a fish or two , I wonder, and then realize it is your fear of “going native” like the far more sensible than you Inuit. Must you be racist even in matters of food?

And those reindeer- don’t get me started please. If I said it once, I said it a million times- “Wipe those Hooves” but of course, magical hooves are not made for wiping. The noise of those bells and the stomping and scratching- on my polished wood floors- it is more than a bit too much! And threarts of goring with antlers, I have been threatened time and again and once even scratched by your pets. Most people like animals, yes true, little furry things that are intelligent, not beasts the size of horses, who cannot behave and answer back most rudely. There is a lot I can take but cheek from a red nosed antlered creature is not one of them. Rudolf saying: ”Move away old woman, I have important work to do” when I reprimanded him about not wiping his hooves was the last straw.

I would not be compelled to leave were it only for the recalcitrant elves, the unrelieved boredom, the food and the rude reindeer, were it not for a more compelling reason. I have only just found out that you are mythical. Santa you do not exist. So all this time I have been living a fantasy, a make-believe situation. And of course, like a fair minded women, I would most certainly want to end this charade. For this is what this marriage is, because Santa Claus does not exist.

However, the alimony I am suing you for , as my lawyers will prove, is very real- fair recompense for having deluded me and millions of young children year after year. And you can claim insufficient funds, but don’t I know about the existence of those very real dollars poured into your Swiss bank accounts( I have the real numbers also) as royalties for sing your name. Our defense will be that an imaginary person, you, has no use for the real money.

Here is wishing you a very happy holiday season. (Ever since reading Richard Dawkins, I have also become an atheist and no longer celebrate religious holidays)

Yours-but-not-for-long

Marlene Claus.