Winter Break Correspondences.
Many laud the time heralded as "Winter Break" as a "wonderful thing," this writer included. While packing up some boxes and leaving Danielsen Hall - which is a pleasure in and of itself - I bore witness to several students running down Beacon Street, tears of joy streaming in their eyes and signs reading "I am glad to be leaving" in their hands.
The absolute joy that stems from never having to wake up for that computer science class again quickly fades, however, and most people forget this while dancing around the Maypole of Broken Responsibilities, better known to some as the "Martin Luther King Pretty Birdie Statue."
Being home can be painfully boring, and since the bigwigs at BU lovingly decided to give us a break that is not comically short, the boredom really has time to set in - especially if you live in Connecticut.
I, however, discovered the perfect way to beat that seasonal depression - and it doesn't even require sensory deprivation chambers. Take THAT, Sweden.
While the holiday season is a time of general relaxation for most people, there is one person who has to work some serious overtime. That's right, you guessed it: Santa Claus. So, being the all-around humanitarian that I am, I called the Law Offices of John Haymond, whom I was told represents Santa in all labor issues.
Apparently, I was misled, for Mr. Haymond had no idea what I was talking about. I did, however, manage to find Santa's phone number using Bigfoot.com - an invaluable tool for stalkers the world over. After two rings, Jolly Old Saint Nick picked up the phone.
I introduced myself and told Mr. Cringle of my Master Plan For Christmas, and he responded with an enthusiastic "Yeah, sure, whatever, kid." After he faxed me a list of names and addresses, I set the proverbial wheels in motion.
I moved to the basement in my house and forced my siblings to wear green sweatshirts and some old Star Trek Vulcan ears I found in a box labeled "Embarrassing Things From The Past That Most Certainly Do Not Belong To Casey." I stood on this box cracking a whip and dictating letters that I forced my siblings to type on antiquated typewriters, all the while insisting that they refer to me as "All-Powerful Overlord." You know - the usual December traditions.
What made this year different was that now, instead of typing my random verbal gibberish, my siblings typed organized letters to children around the world, telling them why Santa Claus, Papa Noel or that creepy, fat, old guy who lives next door didn't bring them anything they wanted this year.
Imagine the joy it brought me to write letters to large-eyed anime-style children all over the world! Imagine the joy associated with writing letters to said children for the jolly, rotund Saint Nick himself! Imagine how cool raccoons would be if they came with super action rockets!
So that you may all share in the joy I experienced this December, I decided to include some of my favorite letters. The first one was to a seven-year-old boy named Keith, who lives in Hackensack, New Jersey.
Thank you very much for your letter. You can rest assured that it brought me much joy to read of your wish for a new Razor Scooter. Unfortunately, I will not be able to fulfill your wish this year, as I personally find those scooters to be exceptionally annoying. Trust me, Keith - Santa's doing you a favor.
This letter was to a young boy in Northumberland, Scotland:
Santa would have loved to give you the chemistry set you wanted for Christmas this year, but he just didn't like the look you were giving him. If you really want it, though, grab Mom's wallet and get her credit cards. Then call me and tell me the magic numbers. Finally, knock over all the trashcans in the house, and the chemistry set will be yours! Your Mom might pretend to be mad when she gets home, but just tell her Daddy told you to do it.
The final letter was written to a six-year-old girl in Kyoto:
I regret to inform you that you will not be receiving the "adorable puppy to love" this year. Due to cutbacks, Santa has had to increase his standards for who gets put on the "Nice" list, and you just didn't make the cut this year. I'm not saying you were naughty, exactly just that you weren't really nice enough. I did, however, manage to slip in these packets of Enerjet gum for you. Good luck in cram school next year.
And now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to buy all the stuff I didn't get for Christmas with my brand new credit card numbers.