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I have something for Santa this year. That fat boy has it coming. Does he think he can tease me each and every year with toys and never give me what I really want? I can’t count the years I have sent him a letter with only one wish on it. Hearing him sneak into my house. Me laying in bed waiting for him to fulfill it. But does he? No! He never has not once.
This year that changes. I am going to wait up for him. A trap laid out. Ready for him. He will give me what I want this year. I want some of that magical Santa cream. That build-up he must have sitting up at the North pole all year long. I figured I was doing him a favor. I have seen his wife. There is no way she giving him her gingerbread cookie on a regular basis. I know his sack is heavy and he needs to have some weight lifted out of there.