the long-awaited sequel to santa claus: the movie

Dear God,

Hi, it’s me again. I realize it’s been too long since I last spoke with You, and for that, I apologize. How have You been? Good, I hope. Despite the fact that You are invisible, I’m sure You’re looking great up there on Your throne and whatnot. At any rate, I’m in a bit of a jam right now, and I pray for Your guidance in this matter. During this very stressful time in my life, I humbly beseech You to please help me to calm my heart, which is pounding so hard I can barely think. And Lord, I ask that I would take slow, shallow breaths during this test of my will. Help me also to be really still, as the slightest noise I make in the next half-hour or so could alert the gangsters I ripped off who are rummaging through my stuff right now to the fact that I am here under the bed, trying not to blink too loud.

Looking back, Heavenly Father, I am suddenly deeply aware of the fact that I should have given You more of the glory when things were going well. From the time I awoke each morning after a night of restful sleep on the very feather mattress I am hiding under, two personal valets were standing there, one to keep me supplied with warm chocolate chip cookies on demand, and the other to hand me a clean, dry Kangol hat at the top of every hour. I had a bevy of international models not only willing, but practically begging to do the weird stuff I need to get off, and I deeply regret that You heard me taking Your name in vain as You watched our orgies from Your Heavenly vantage point. Things were really great, and I should have stopped to thank You from time to time for the material comforts You blessed me with. As You no doubt recall, I feted my new business partners with lavish celebrations where I handed out decadent party favors, including coke spoons which were carved from the molars of those that had crossed me. The mansion I moved into even had a well-stocked survival bunker I could escape to in case of emergency, but in Your infinite wisdom, You allowed the security breach to occur while I was showering in the north wing, and therefore unable to grab a towel, much less make it into the wine cellar where the secret hatch to the bunker is hidden before the whole place was crawling with Hoo Fong’s henchmen, smashing everything in sight in search of their boss’ rightful property. You truly move in mysterious ways, O Lord!

This experience has opened my eyes to see that I have let my comfortable lifestyle get in the way of what is truly important, and so I come to you a penitent man. If it be Your will, Almighty God, I will return to the life I led before I found the briefcase that changed my life. Fortunately, I made sure to stay on good terms with my landlord in that dingy efficiency apartment illuminated by a single light bulb, where I lay my head down each night on a bed of newspapers and fell asleep to the clinking sound of rats rooting around the empty bottles of Thunderbird. If You deliver me from this predicament, I promise to lay my treasures down at Your feet, although I do meekly ask that You somehow provide a way for me to keep that cookie guy on the payroll. Jesus H. Christ, those are some good cookies.


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October 2010
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