Listen, you're a cool guy, but we need to talk. You see, I'm having some issues with the whole concept of me shelling out hundreds and you getting all the credit. That being said, I have told my offspring that you are not real. I'm sorry, but it had to be done. To make up for all the years of me not getting credit for the debt I have put myself in, in your name, I am sending you my
1. A year's supply of vodka. 182.5 fifths should do it. Don't be cheap either. Get the good stuff: Rain Organic, preferably, if not, then Gray Goose will do. Also, throw in a bottle of that Crystal Skull stuff, I really want one of those skull-shaped bottles.
2. A tummy tuck. That 8lbs 10oz thing that I popped out, who gave you many years of credit, has caused my abdomen to have a striking resemblance to a deflated balloon. You can help me fix it.
3. A Mitsubishi Lancer EVO... EVO. Don't think you're gonna pull off the lesser model on me. Make sure it has a sunroof.
4. Heroin. Yes, you heard me. I really want to try some heroin and since I don't know any shady drug dealers (and if I did, I wouldn't want them to know I actually want to try heroin, because they would turn my into a drug addict prostitute and I would be stuck with all of the toothless, old and/or stinky clients because of my deflated belly), you seem to be my last hope of fulfilling this wish. If you can't pull that off, maybe some shrooms?
5. Sweetmeats. Just find them and bring me some.
6. One night with David Draiman. Make it happen. We'll need to time this before my tummy tuck in case I become impregnated with his love child.
7. Front row tickets (and backstage passes, like 10 of them) to a Pink Floyd concert. You're Santa, you can bring Richard Wright back from the dead, right?
I think that should do it. Please note that I expect these on or before December 25th. (That's the day we celebrate Jesus' birth, even though he wasn't really born then.) Actually, I celebrate the Solstice, so have these to me by December 21st. You can't discriminate based on religious beliefs, the Constitution says so. No need to bother with the reindeer, goofy costume and all that. You can come in sweats or just mail it. If you send it UPS, please let them know they are not allowed to hold my shit in New Stanton for a day or two, k?
Yours truly,
Trbobitch
P.S. If you can't pull any of that off, for whatever reason, just make Ron Paul president and we'll call it even.
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