I wrote mine with tribe names and the buzz words du jour...
Ahem...
Dear Santa,
I have been a good he-she.
It really wasn't my fault what happened at deep's Christmas party. It was that 420 guy who spiked the punch with too much Beer. I can't help it if I drank 11 glasses. It was so good---smelled and tasted just like sour milk.
I thought it was funny when I put vinder's asshat on my head and danced the poney prance on the ottoman while singing `Cop Killer'. I didn't mean to break deep's I-Pod and don't know why deep would sue me for cannibalism.
I don't remember calling Big Bad Baldy's wife a soft squirrel---even though she looked like one with puece eye shadow and off-puece lipstick!
And when I threw up on daddyiwantchocolate's husband's choda, it was only because I ate too much of that pho.
After all that fun, I admit I was a little tired. So I fell asleep on my way home and drove my shitty-civic through my neighbor's abbatoir. I don't think that was any reason for my neighbor to call me a squishy limecat and have me arrested for felching!
So, Santa...here I sit in my jail cell on Christmas Eve, all chaffing and infectious. And I'm really not to blame for any of this fangorious stuff. Please bring me what I want the most---bail money!
Sincerely and spelunkingly yours,
Evil Dynovac (Really a nice he-she!)
P.S. It's only 1 million bucks!
