I didn’t initially intend to tell you this way, but Christmas seemed as good a time as any: I’m leaving you. I think we’ve known for a long time this hasn’t been working, so I decided that leaving the one day a year you have to work was the best course of action to cap off our 100-decade marriage. At 1,559 years old, I’m not getting any younger. And a woman has to do what she can to make it through this cold, ice-hard world.
It just doesn’t seem like you’re trying anymore. We’ve gotten through rough patches, like when you cheated on me with Mommy a couple of decades ago. You were lucky it was just a kiss and not hand stuff, or I would have left that very night.
But that wasn’t the main issue that’s driving me to leave you now. It’s the fact that to the world, everyone adores you as this hard worker. But I know the real Santa. I’m living with him. And what the world doesn’t see is, he’s a child that still won’t touch a vegetable. He sits on his recliner watching EFL (Elfish Football League) while he lets other forms of income go out the window. When’s the last time you’ve done an updated Coke commercial, huh Nick? You say we can’t “go to Florida” in the winter since it’s your busy season, but Kris, what busy season? What fucking busy season? Tony, your Elf Supervising Lead does more on Christmas Eve than you do the entire year.
All this free time, and you still don’t have it in you to compliment my new bonnet every once in a while? To take the garbage out? To put me on the naughty list? A woman has needs, you know…
Let’s get down to the stuff I know you’re most worried about: the assets. First, you can have the workshop, since you care more about running a sweatshop instead of running an errand for me once in a while. But you better find someone to balance the books because your secretary and wife is resigning.
Oh and the sleigh? Fine, keep it. I don’t need that piece of junk. With the money I’m getting from this divorce, I’m going to have enough to buy a 2022 Honda Sleigh. It has so much reindeer power and over a dozen cupholders.
Also Nick, we’re going to have to talk about the reindeer. I know you begged us to stay together for them, but I’m thinking more of a The Parent Trap situation. I’ll take Dasher, Dancer, Prancer, and Vixen. You take the rest, especially Rudolph. The red nose is a distraction and should really be checked out by a healthcare provider, it has to be a birth defect, I’ve told you this a thousand times Nicky.
I’ll go over the rest of my demands in the papers included in this letter. Sorry to be a grinch about all of this, but this all could have been avoided if you looked at me the way you look at those plates of cookies.
While I am emotionally checked out and ready to move on, please don’t think I’ve forgotten the good times in our marriage. Those first 50 years when we were in our honeymoon phase, oh, my cheeks get rosy just thinking about it, and it’s not just because it’s -78 degrees here year-round. Strolling through the North Pole, holding hands. Curling up in bed reading The Christmas Carol at night for the 12,673rd time. Forcing the elves to watch us have sex in the workshop.
We were just a couple of crazy kids back then.
Remember that one time we took the sleigh out after having one too many glasses of milk? That was the night we found out you were lactose intolerant, and you shit yourself all over the backseat. I’ll always remember all these times with love and fondness. But that was then, and this is now. And now, I’m gonna take you for all you have, fat man.
You’re wondering where I’m going or if there’s another man huh? I met someone, Santa. In fact, you’re the one who introduced me to him. Remember Harry from the Hanukkah party back in 2011? Well, there was always a spark between us, not unlike the candles of one of his menorahs. He would keep me company during the 12 Days of Christmas when you were gone, doing your World Mall Tour. He introduced me to sufganiyot, which honestly I like a lot better than the leftover burnt cookies these people serve you every year.
Plus what can I say? I like beards, and his hasn’t turned white like yours yet. By the time you read this, he’s already picked me up in his 2015 Toyota Corolla which is reindeer-free. And there are heated seats!
Santa, it’s been a great 1,000 years with you but I guess I have that 1,000-year itch and I finally need to do something for me. If you’re reading this, it’s too late. I’m already off celebrating Hanukkah with Harry in Boca Raton.
You will be hearing from my attorney Sal Rosenberg soon. See you in court.
—The Former Mrs. Claus