By Clint McElroy
HQ 132 | WINTER 2026
Whether it’s a message dropped at a post office, a heartfelt email or even a crayon-scribbled note plunked into a magical mailbox at the mall, every year billions of children send letters to Santa Claus. But did you know that, every so often, Santa posts his own letters? And with Christmas songs blaring on every radio station, satellite and streaming platform, Jolly Old Saint Nicholas has been busy at his writing desk. Here, then, is his latest batch of letters:
Dear Alvin,
You still want a hula hoop? Holy cow, kid, why? Do you think it will make you look cool? Maybe it would have 75 years ago. But nowadays, I don’t think so. I asked the elves if they could whip up a hula hoop. They didn’t know what it was. I told them, “It’s a plastic circular tube that you stand in the middle of and rotate around your body.” They gave each other that look that says, “It may be time to put the boss down.” Maybe you want one because it will help you get into shape? How about this: I’ll bring you a Peloton instead.
Love, Santa
Dear Spike,
I have checked with my lawyers, and unfortunately I am not licensed to practice orthodontics in the continental United States, Canada or Mexico. Therefore, I am unable to provide you with two front teeth. However, I do regret bringing you all that saltwater taffy last Christmas.
With regrets, Santa
Dear Michael,
I wish you and your brothers would stop telling people that I am making a list and checking it twice in order to find out who’s naughty and nice. That system worked wonderfully 200 years ago, but the population of the world has grown so much in the last couple of centuries that it just isn’t feasible to keep a Naughty or Nice List. With new technologies, I have a much simpler method: I just check everybody’s internet search history.
Best regards, Santa
Dear Elmo & Patsy,
You have my deepest sympathies that your grandmother was the victim of some kind of vehicular attack. But I assure you, neither my sleigh nor myself were involved in any way, shape or form with this tragic incident. As for what you described as incriminating “Claus marks” on her back, what does that even mean? If I were you, I would look for suspects a little closer to home. Word on the street is that your cousin Mel had been consuming a lot of beer that day. Along similar lines, perhaps your energies would be best served by changing your hosting practices and not overserving so much eggnog.
Innocently yours, Santa
Dear Jimmy,
I do not care what you think you saw — that was not me making out with your mother underneath the mistletoe last night. I’m sure she’s a lovely woman and all, but I have been faithful to Mrs. Claus since the Lincoln Administration. And if these kinds of rumors start swirling around, she is going to kick my red-furred behind. Have you considered a scenario where maybe that was your father dressed up as me? The next time this happens, check “Santa Claus” for any distinguishing scars or tattoos. Maybe ask for some ID. I hope it is your dad, kid; otherwise, it may not be a very Happy New Year around your house.
Hopefully, Santa
Dear Gayla,
As a rule, I try not to bring living creatures as presents. They tend to get very excited and “do their business” in the sleigh — and since the elves are all unionized, I’m the one who has to clean it up. You can imagine what size “business” would be done by the hippopotamus you requested.
Sorry, Santa
Dear Eartha,
Look, you must cut it out with the whole “Santa Baby” schtick. Your continued efforts to procure furs, jewelry, Cadillacs and a platinum mine from me are nothing less than extortion.
And you can give your pal Madonna the same message.
Respectfully, Santa
Happy holidays to all, and to all a good night!
