How Santa Killed Mittens.

Hey Santa,

I am writing to you to make an official complaint about your poor customer service.

Considering your reputation on "All that is Christmas" i hold you personally responsible for allowing the Grinch steal my Cute little kitten Mittens.

It has been since 1957 and she has not been returned to me yet, this is what happened.

When i was living in Whoville back in 1957 i had everything i ever wanted.

Two beautiful wives, a big screen TV, low blood pressure and the most adorable little kitten imaginable, Mittens.

However, that year, some Douchebag from out of town decided he was going to be his douchy self and basically took all i held dear away from me.

Grinch captured on Camera stealing Mittens

Well, the whole village actually, but they get to send their own letters.

Now, one of the wives was getting a little annoying anyway, so i was like "Good riddance" but he shouldn't have messed with my TV OR my Mittens. When i woke up and saw everything was gone, i immediately got my Zombie Christmas Survival Kit and went out hunting for this Green Furry bastard. Now, I was certain that he wouldn’t be as stupid to hide in his lame little cave on his stupid mountain, so the first place I started looking was Canada.
It took me YEARS Santa, YEARS of spelunking, Ice climbing and a lot of innocent green furred animals were hurt in the progress. (Hey, if you don’t want to be mistaken for The Grinch, don’t grow green fur).

I remember one specific hunt, were I was certain I found his tracks out just south of Winnipeg.
The night was dark and cold, the wind pulling at the fabric of my light absorbing cloak of awesomeness.
The cave I was stalking ominously quiet, the only sounds being the whirring of my night vision goggles and the echo of my heartbeat resonating of the glistening cavern walls.
As I went deeper, a gut wrenching crunch crackled from underneath my Tiger repellent boot, sending a shiver up my spine. As I lifted my boot, I knew I was on the right track. A crystalline residue of red and white glazed sugarcanes was stuck in between the coarse edges of my non-slip vulcanized rubber profile soles.





I checked my Boxing Glove Launcher KYA 2000© and a smile crept across my face.
This Grinch was going to get the worst headache of his life once this baby would fire a lamb leather 32oz KNOCKOUT boxing glove right in the kisser.
But I had to be patient, or I would lose the element of surprise, so I stalked on.
Carefully avoiding the old crusty candy canes that littered the floor, I went deeper into this dank lair.
 
Not long after, an orange glow flickered in the distance and distorted shadows dances across the walls.
As I listened carefully for any sign of a distressed Meow or anxious kitten paws treading up and down, but I heard none of that. Instead a long stretched out moan rumbled through the tunnel.
The path narrowed as I got closer and the moaning of a beast in pain grew fiercer and louder.
In my heart, I hoped I wasn’t too late, I hoped another Grinch Hunter did not rob me of my satisfaction of punching this Green Maniac in the face. With my breath caught in my throat I prepared myself to swing around the last corner, into the small den the light and sound was coming from and confront this BEAST, this MANIAC,  that took the joy of my life. Nothing could have prepared me for what I saw. It wasn’t the Grinch waiting for my Fist of Justice, it wasn’t even a Bear, no, It was your damn Wife doing some kind of Webcam show for $2 a minute. Santa, dude, you gotta talk to her about this, because the things she was doing with those elves is uncalled for and possibly illegal. Also, Fire your Reindeer.

So I got out, poured myself a drink and had horrible nightmares for a week.
After that, my Grinch hunting days were pretty much over.



"Dave Stevens is THE SHIT" - Mother Theresa



It was 2009 by now and I was still without Cat, Two Wives and Big Screen TV.
So I decided to head back to Whoville, and restart my life without my Cat, Two Wives and Big Screen TV and decided to just be GOOD and hoping YOU would make up for my terrible terrible loss.
And Santa, I’ve been good, I’ve been so good, Mother Theresa just texted me saying “Dude, can you tone it down, you are making me look like an ass”. And she’s a SAINT Santa!



Anyway, I got home, turns out The Grinch had a change of heart and returned all my shit.
My wives  divorced me both to pursue a career in Robotronics in Kyoto and my TV is so outdated that it now takes electricity to work. It was kind of an eyesore as a centerpiece and when I tried to remove it, I tripped on the damn cat, dropping the 9000 pound tv flat on her cute little head, flattening her like a pancake.

Now I am without TV, without wives, and a flat cat that can only serve as a coaster.
As you can imagine, I am not amused.

In the holiday spirits, I hope you can redeem yourself and use some of that Santa magic to make my life a little better.
I have recently found a new wife, who is allergic to cats, so one of those new TV’s would be absolutely awesome.

Oh, and I’m sorry about your wife.

-          Dave Stevens