I've been watching you closely to see if you have been good this year;
and since you have, I will be telling my elves to make some goodies for me
to leave under your tree on Christmas. I was going to bring you all the
gifts from the twelve days of Christmas, but we had a little problem up here.
The twelve fiddlers fiddling have all come down with V.D. from fiddling with
the ten ladies dancing, the eleven lords-a-leaping have knocked up the eight
maids-a-milking, and the nine pipers piping have been arrested for doing
weird things to the seven swans-a-swimming and the six geese-a-laying. The
four calling birds, three French hens, two turtle doves, and the partridge
in the pear tree have me up to my ass in birdshit. On top of all this, Mrs.
Claus is going through menopause, eight of my reindeer are in heat, the elves
have joined gay liberation, and those dumb ass Polacks have scheduled
Christmas for the fifth of February. I'll do what I can.