Dear Santa,

You must be surprised that I'm writing to you today, the 26th of December.

Well, I would very much like to clear up certain things that have occurred
since the beginning of the month, when, filled with illusion, I wrote you my
letter.

I asked for a bicycle, an electric train set, a pair of roller blades, and a
football uniform. I destroyed my brain studying the whole year. Not only was
I the first in my class, but I had the best grades in the whole school. I'm
not going to lie to you - there was no one in my entire neighbourhood that
behaved better than me, with my parents, my brothers, my friends and my
neighbours. I would go on errands, and even help the elderly cross the
street. There was virtually nothing within reach that I would not do for
humanity.

What balls do you have leaving me a fucking yo-yo, a stupid whistle and a
pair of socks. What the fuck were you thinking, you fat son-of-a-bitch, that
you've taken me for a sucker the whole fucking year to come out with some
shit like this under the tree. As if you hadn't fucked me enough, you gave
that little faggot across the street so many toys that he can't even walk
into his fucking house. Please don't let me see you trying to fit your big
fat ass down my chimney next year. I'll fuck you up. I'll light your fat ass
on fire, and I'll throw rocks at those stupid fucking reindeer and scare
them away so you'll have to walk back to the fucking North Pole, just like
what I have to do now since you didn't get me that fucking bike.

FUCK YOU SANTA! This year you'll find out how bad I can be, you fat
son-of-a-bitch.

Yours Sincereley,
Little Johnny.