Please, please bring me a bike this year. Please, I want a 3-speed bike more than anything in the whole world. I'll even be nice to my little brother if you bring me one.
Santa, my old bike is getting banged up, and even the silver jet plane ornament on the front fender won't hang on anymore, even with the bandaids I put there to make it stay. I know it hurts to have that part swinging around like that, and I know my bike will be sad to see me ride another bike, but it's getting too small for me anyways, and my little brother can have it, because it's red and nobody will really notice that it's not a "boys" bike" with the nutcracker bar, and he's only 8! He won't notice, I promise!
I know, Santa, that this year I said a cuss word that made my mom get mad and then she made me bite a bar of soap, and I know that I was mean to the girl up the street, but that was only because she was mean first and said I smelled funny and didn't want to be with me if Lori was there too. She made me so mad, Santa, that I HAD to smash her Easy-Bake oven pan with my red bike's front wheel so that she couldn't bake Jeff James another stupid batch of brownies. He didn't like them anyways, and threw them out in the backyard where his stinky dog got to eat them. She DESERVED the cuss, Santa, really she did!
And if you know about that time that I almost drowned my brother when I was little, well, sorry about that one too, but he NEEDED to learn how to hold his breath underwater, and I thought I could teach him. But Santa, that was a long time ago, and I'm older now, and for sure you can't make me account for all that stuff just to get a bike, can you?
OK, there's one more thing, and I need to tell you this so that you'll know how much I want that 3-speed bike; and it's this: I pick my nose and I eat it sometimes. I know its gross, and I know I'm not supposed to because it's dirty, but it TASTES good. Santa, that's the worst thing I do. I promise.
You know Santa, I'm an OK kid most of the time. I keep my room clean and eat my dinner and do my homework and sing in the church choir and play nicely with the friends I like and don't tickle my brother till he pukes anymore.
Please Santa, I only want the bike. You can take everything else you got me and give it to some other little girl. I don't want anything else but the blue and silver 3-speed bike.
Thaks Santa, for giving the bike to my brother. I hate him, and think you're mean.
Thanks for giving me lip gloss as my last present. You stink. I hate you.