Puerto Rican Boy With Delusional Wish List Gets Reply From Santa

Santa Claus Writing Letter

Dear Jesús:

Thank you for your letter. Due to hurricane-related postal delays, this reply may not reach you until January. At which point, your wish list will be A Three King’s Day problem, not mine.

You wrote that you are in first grade and that you’ve had good grades all year long. Anybody can maintain good grades when their school is closed for over two months and counting. So don’t brag too much.

Even if I let that slide, we still have the issue of logistics.

You live on a mountain, on an island surrounded by water on many sides – many, many sides. Unlike kids who live in Florida or Texas, it’s simply too hard to get to you. You have no power and your internet is unreliable. This is great when I want to hide from Mrs. Claus, but I must follow my fantasy football and troll the non-believers. I just cannot risk a bad connection.

As far as safety, my acid reflux will not be jolly after drinking the powdered milk and off-brand cookie crumbs you are planning to leave for me. Rudolph’s bloody-red nose will attract your post-hurricane mosquitoes, which seem to be on radioactive steroids. Dasher hates the taste of boiled water. Not to mention that the Reindeer’s Union expressed concerns regarding reindeer being lured to the island to be hunted and turned into carne guisada or worse, stuffed into empanadillas.

Transportation is also a problem. Contrary to popular belief, my sleigh is fueled by the magic of diesel, and you have a shortage. No offense, Jesús, but I don’t want to be stuck playing Survivor Puerto Rico indefinitely.

Although I’ll be skipping Puerto Rico this year, I reviewed the list of “toys” you requested and provided some suggestions:

1. Debris removal (Never heard of it. Is it by Mattel?)

2. Batteries (You know my policy! I deliver the toys; parents go to the store, half-asleep, on Christmas morning, in their pajamas, only to return with the wrong-size batteries.)

3. Medicine (I sold reefers at North Pole U during my freshman year, but I don’t anymore. I’m too hard to miss. Just say no!)

4. Citronella mosquito repellent candles (Don’t worry about mosquitoes. They’ll eventually move to Florida as part of the massive exodus.)

5. Distilled water (Ever heard of rain water? The fun is on its unpredictability.)

6. Canned foods (My weight struggle is real! All food within my reach, naughty or nice, is delivered through my rectum into the nearest toilet.)

7. And finally, you requested a drone to deliver these goods since roads were destroyed and there’s no way in or out of your town.

The drone is the only item I carry, but I’m out of it. I will be able to send you a defective one as soon as the recalls and lawsuits start pouring in right after Christmas. Please allow 60-80 weeks for delivery.

Merry Christmas, Happy New Year, Ho Ho Ho and Good Luck!

– Santa

P.S. I admire your bravery in surviving these conditions. Limited internet? I couldn’t do it! Whenever you catch one bar of WiFi, check out my website. Next week we will be going to the International Space Station to deliver much-needed joy and space ice cream to the astronauts. I will post photos. Hella exciting!

 

 




Diana Arcia

Author: Diana Arcia

Diana Arcia is a writer and playwright. She studied comedy at Second City and IO. She is a member of the Chicago-based theater production company Meter Feeders. Catch her on Twitter @darcia1879.

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