Dear Santa,

I have been a good girl.

It really wasn't my fault what happened at Steve's Christmas party. It was Dave who spiked the punch with too much wine. I can't help it if I drank 300.76 glasses. It was so good---smelled and tasted just like meatballs.

I thought it was funny when I put Andy's shoes on my head and danced the waltz on the ottoman while singing `Stable mates'. I didn't mean to break Steve's remote and don't know why Steve would sue me for fraud.

I don't remember calling Dave's wife a pointy goat---even though she looked like one with umber eye shadow and teal lipstick!

And when I threw up on Robin's husband's bum, it was only because I ate too much of that pickles.

After all that fun, I admit I was a little tired. So I fell asleep on my way home and drove my Edsel through my neighbor's soffit. I don't think that was any reason for my neighbor to call me a smelly Siamese cat and have me arrested for usuary!

So, Santa...here I sit in my jail cell on Christmas Eve, all stinky and bluish. And I'm really not to blame for any of this friggin' stuff. Please bring me what I want the most---bail money!

Sincerely and quickly yours,
Ren (Really a nice girl!)

P.S. It's only .29 bucks!