This is the perfect Christmas morning. You wake up to find gifts under the tree, the cookies you left gone, and smiles from all. With the house decorated with red and green, the lights a’blinking and the Chipmunks singing about Christmas time, what could go wrong?

Oh yeah, someone telling you that Santa is a fraud.

That’s right, kid. If you haven’t figured it out yet, Santa doesn’t exist.

I know, what about the guy you took a picture with at the mall? He was old, jolly, and filled with “ho ho ho” right? Actually, the only thing right about that is that he was old. The last time he was jolly was when his welfare check came in, and the only thing he’s filled with is ripple.

Wait, what about the gifts? Santa HAD to come to deliver them, right? Wrong. Look, do you even HAVE a chimney? Where did Santa come in through, your cable modem? Please, Mom and Dad pulled a fast one on you. They probably had the gifts stashed in the trunk of the car. Ha ha!

But what about the letter you sent him? Surely he got that, right? Go into your Mom’s room when she’s in the shower and look under her bed. There you’ll find a book filled with all the “letters to Santa” you wrote since you were two or three years old. You’ll probably also find a magazine with naked women; that’s Daddy’s. Leave it alone.

So when Jamie said there was no such thing as Santa, that I was a fool, he was right? Yes, that fat blithering bully was right. But it serves you right for believing in Santa.

You’re how old now, 27?