Dear Santa,

Hi Santa! My name is Sean Boggs and I am almost 19 and one-fourth years old. You know, Christmas is coming soon and guess what … I want lots of stuff! I am not too sure where to begin, so I think I will just start at the beginning.

You see, this past Thanksgiving weekend, I threw up a whole lot. I know that sounds icky and gross, but it was kinda fun – I gots lots of jello! I was really sick with Hepatitis. But I’m all good now, in fact, I ate pizza today. So as you can see Santa, I have had it awfully rough. I tried so hard to eat my turkey and stuffing, but it just kept on coming back out.

“Ewww,” my little sister said to me as I covered the deviled eggs with my turkey and stuffin’ from my stomach. I like white meat by the way – oh – especially with ketchup. Yum!

But, as you already probably know, I feel a whole lots better. My mommy says that I can use the same hand towels as everybody us now because before, when I was sick, the doctor said I had to use a separate towel because of all the germs I got. But one good thing about being all covered in germs is that when I would grab a Cheeto out of the bag, nobody else was allowed to grab one because of the germs I left. I got sick from eating the whole bag of Cheetos though.

So I am guessing you want to know what I want for Christmas this year. Well, you will have to gimme a minute to think about what I already put on my Mom and Dad’s lists to you so don’t give me any duplicates like you did last year! I asked for only ONE soccer ball – damn you Santa.

Well, I filled up my Dad’s list with all kinds of movies and records. But every year, no matter what is on my list, my step-mom always insists on getting me Barbie stuff. Hey Santa, don’t you have the power to like shoot people with lightning bolts? Oh no wait – that’s Zeus.

On my Mom’s list I put really expensive stuff. I feel, in order to gather any kinds of love out of me, she will buy whatever I want. But if my own children ever pull that crap – I’ll raise Hell.

So the rest is up to you Santa. You better get it right this year. Do you remember the time when I wrote you that letter that talked about how my dog’s favorite toy was a squeaky hamburger, and when I opened my stocking, inside was a squeaky hamburger. I cried so hard when I bit into it and cut my lip. My mother said that you screwed up and gave the dog’s toy to me. My dad thinks its just because you hate me. But you don’t hate me – right?

So please don’t mess up again.

Now, for my girlfriend. You see, she is a really scared of you. Back when she was growing up, there were some cotton balls and a red jacket under her bed. One day, when she was looking under her bed, she thought she saw the cotton balls and the jacket moving, when suddenly her cat jumped out and scratched her face. Since then, she breaks into a nervous sweat and screams, “stay away from my face” every time she sees a Santa. So, because of all this, I have to tell you what she wants for her. She wants a real flamingo and a mermaid. Yeah, that’s right – life size.

But back to me, I would ask you for money, but if the government found out that you and your elves and reindeer was making fake money, they’d haul off little ol’ Rudolph into the back of a squad car and then sentence you to some group therapy thing where you have to talk to a guy named Helen who thinks he’s a goat. I don’t want that to happen to you Santa. I love you.

Okay, so I have finally decided what I want for Christmas … a cure for Hepatitis. Yup – I don’t wanna ever puke on Thanksgiving again.

Oh, send money anyway, and if you get caught – you don’t know me.