Dear Santa,

I miss you. I'm sitting here in your dumpster right now smelling your hat from last year; the one that Rudolph took a bite out of. It still smells mostly like reindeer saliva, but if I put my face completely inside—it smells like you.

You haven't returned any of my phone calls or emails. I talked to one of your elves named Clarence, I think. He wasn't very nice. He said you didn't want to see me. I think he was just jealous. Remember how much you said you liked Newark the first time we met? Remember you said it was "nice"? Remember how you told me the streets looked like they were made out of "dark gold"? It could be that way again. I bought a little place there just enough for the two of us, and I have a small nest egg I stole from my mother.

How's the Mrs.? Have you given any thought to the arsenic? I promise it's painless. I noticed you put me on the "naughty" list this year. I suppose you mean that in the amorous sense. I made you a gift that I'm stroking right now. It's a collage of our faces I put together so it looks like we spend as much time together as I wish we did. I'll go inside and give it to you as soon as I stop smelling your hat. I just found one of your old shoes in here. It smells like you, too; like spicy, spicy Santa.

How's the Mrs.? Have you given any thought to the arsenic? I promise it's painless. I would know. If I were with you right now I'd sit in your lap and serenade you. I've been told I have a very sultry voice—well, you would know. Did you get all those voicemails? The machine kept cutting me off. I know when we met I had a jealous husband, who didn't understand what it meant to have a soulmate, but he had an accident recently so I'm free to be yours. I wish, the last time we saw each other I hadn't been married. I want you to know I've always been yours. I made my husband finally admit that before his accident.

I can see Mrs. Claus right now in her bedroom. She really does look old. She doesn't deserve to be with someone so sophisticated and powerful. I could make you feel young again. Newark does that to people, and so do I. There's a little problem with the police right now, but I'm working with some nice businessmen in Nicaragua and if we changed our identities (it's so easy to do in America, everyone does it) I think we could be really happy together. You could disguise yourself as a homeless man.

Why are you still in the North Pole? What has it given you that I can't? Why do you still visit those ungrateful brats every year? They don't love you like I do. They only want your presents. Leave the North Pole—never see Mrs. Claus, or the elves, or any of your ungrateful children again. I'm the only one you need, Santa. I can love you enough for all of them. I'm ready to die for you, Santa. I love you more deeply than any woman has ever loved a man. I would bleed for you, I would die for you, and I would kill for you.

Yours As Long As Life Endures,