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TIS THE SEASON TO BE DELUDED
Dear Santa
I’m only writing this to maintain my parents’ delusions in the hope we can get some suitable psychiatric treatment organised for the new year.
TBH, Santa, childhood has been pretty rough thus far. At the age of two, my evil Gen X Uncle Noel introduced me to St Kurt of Cobain. I was super excited about having something to share at Sunday school until the teacher informed me that St Kurt had been excommunicated and Jesus didn’t want any of his acolytes for sunbeams:
At the age of three, I asked my mum if the Easter Bunny was real and she assured me, he was. Straight after that, I heard my mum in the kitchen talking to dad. Mum was getting really irate because dad wouldn’t stop gorging himself on a bag of jalapeños flavoured chips. I pretty sure she said something like, “Get out in the fucking garden and make like the Easter Bunny.” I thought I must have misheard as surely my dad wasn’t faking the Easter Bunny, but when I did the easter egg hunt in the morning, all the eggs…