My Letter to Santa

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Dear Santa,

I know that I haven’t written to you for many years now, and it’s not because I don’t believe in you, because you bet your festive red buckets I do, but I have become so un-materialistic, I had no reason. I was just writing to inquire as to how the good list, bad list system works. Songs never quite clarify whether you get points per good action, or whether the number of bad deeds done is taken away from the number of good deeds, and that is what ultimately discerns what you get, or how much you get for Christmas every year. Anyway, as you know, because of all your little elf spies I’m sure, is that I have been an exceptionally outstanding number of society since I was old enough to crawl a penny to a poor-man’s cup. I’ve never asked you for anything that wasn’t absolutely necessary in my life. While other children whined about ipods and mobile phones, I asked only for socks and the occasional book. If my theory of how your delivery quota is predicted is correct, that means I have a surplus of good-list nominations. Now Christmas is only a week away, and I would like to cash in all my kindnesses on something rather important.

I’m going to be blunt, Santa; I want a dragon.

Yes, I know you are probably asking yourself, as you munch on one of Mrs Claus’s homemade gingerbread cupcakes, what does a 22 year old woman need with an enormous, mythological reptile. Dragons are awesome, Santa. That’s a fact that no scientific experiment need prove, because everyone knows that having a dragon would just be plain cool. Dragons are fast, large, can fly, and shoot fire. I can do none of these things; if I had a dragon I could.

He’ll need to be a dark colour so I could easily hide him. The Buddhists here might not like it if they knew I was housing a pet dragon under their roof, but don’t worry, I would still take good care of him. Every night I’d take him for a flight over the sea. You know I live in an ideal flying location – also, I live near a vast area of protected countryside where we could go for hours at a time without fear of detection. Of course, he’d have to be a vegetarian dragon able to graze, otherwise he might get in trouble for eating sheep. I’m not going to lie and pretend I could afford cart loads of meat a day, Santa, because lieing is wrong, and that’s not why I’m on your nice list. However, I could provide ample amounts of freshly mown grass, and organic vegetables for his or her consumption.

I’m very responsible. I want you to understand that Santa, because I would never, never, never abuse the whole fire-bolt thing. Strictly, I would use it only to light candles, fireplaces, and flame retardant goods. That’s it. I wouldn’t set any neighbours houses alight, or seek out and terrorise high-school bullies. Not me, Santa. You can have faith in that, if nothing else. A dragon would keep me warm. I know you live in the North Pole where it’s snowing and below freezing all year round, but I live in Plymouth where it just rains all year round. At least you can make snowmen; there’s no such thing as a rain-man … at least in that context. So, have mercy on we who get wet and cold, and supply me with a dragon. Together we could chase the clouds away, and warm the hearts of those who know us.

I’m not picky, but if he resembled Toothless from How to Train Your Dragon you wouldn’t hear a single complaint from me. Although, it might help if his teeth weren’t sharp. I don’t own any of my furniture, and I really don’t want to have to replace expensive pine sets when I have no money with which to do it. All my money would go on buying toys and bedding for my dragon. He needn’t be too big, just large enough that I could ride him, and yet still dedicate a corner of my room to his sleeping needs. I’ve heard dragon dung has magical fertilizing properties. That might not be true, but if it is I promise all the poopie my beautiful little pet is able to produce would be donated to independent farms for use on their crops. You see, everyone would benefit. A dragon is not just for Christmas, it’s for a community.

As for a name, I’d give him a good one. I always liked the dragon names from the Pern series, so Ramoth maybe. Or Spike, from the original MLP cartoons. We’d be best friends – it’s in all dragon fiction. That’s how I know, because I have  read up on dragons my whole life. I am so prepared to own a dragon; I have even read the diabolical Eragon in the pursuit of dragon owning perfection. I have been wise enough to wait until I turned at least 22 to make this request. Check that on your maturity list.

Don’t put him under the tree, that will only lead to disaster. Peg him outside and leave me a note; something like, ‘giant, best buddy outside’ so at least I’ll get a bit of a surprise. Leave it next to the giant plate of cookies I plan to leave you, along side nine, very sumptuous, very organic carrots for the poor creatures who will have to ferry my dragon to my home. Now, I’m not allowed to eat wheat Santa, so my leaving you gluten stocked cookies is a good-will gesture, which also shows how wonderfully restrained I am. I’m not sure why that’s a plus in the category of dragon ownership, but it sure can’t hurt.

I hope your plans and preparations continue to go well this year, and that my very reasonable request doesn’t set your schedule back too far. Procuring a beast this late in the game shouldn’t be a problem for an old expert like you. My anticipation for Christmas day, and the arrival of my new pet, grows ever stronger.

Thank you in advance

Alice.

Ps. I will also require dragon riding equipment, a dragon food and water bowl, and a dragon lead. You know, for my dragon.

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