Editorial: There Is No Santa Claus, Amy, Now Stop Fucking Asking

Every year, The Third Spur receives countless letters from local children, seeking the answer to one question: is Santa Claus real?

One child, 5-year old Amy Williams, however, is especially adamant. Though her letters are so poorly written that in the beginning we could hardly discern what she was asking, our team worked through the night to transcribe them. In response to her first few letters, we sent her artfully-crafted replies, in which we explained that of course Santa exists, albeit invisibly, in our hearts. Despite this, Amy blatantly ignored our response and, over the course of 6 months, she wrote twenty-six identical letters to our editorial staff.

We make a promise to our readers to answer every question asked of us, so our small staff was forced to work overtime to satisfy the “curiosity” of a sadistic little girl. Amy, you’ve deprived these people from their lives and families. Three of their houses were foreclosed. Two of them were officially declared missing.

The game is over, Amy. There is no Santa Claus, so stop fucking asking.

Your mother lied to you. Is that what you wanted to hear, you heartless bitch? She lied about that and about probably a hundred other things.

The cookies you leave out for Santa? Your dad eats them right after you go to bed, and then wakes up fifteen minutes before you do to put presents under the tree. Yes, your parents buy everything. No magic involved. How would they know what you wanted? You gave them a fucking list. There’s no P.O. box in the North Pole.

And those toys you thought were made by Elves? No, those are made in sweatshops by children your age, paid five cents an hour to put head after head after head on an endless mound of naked barbie doll bodies. Doesn’t sound like they’re having a great Christmas, does it, selfish little monster?

Oh, we’re sorry, does that hurt your feelings? Our feelings were hurt a little bit, too, when Dave’s wife left him because he spent so much time at the office answering your letters.

Maybe this will ruin your Christmas, Amy—honestly you deserve it. You’ve already ruined ours.