Writing to Santa

Hi. I'm Charles the Bear Cub. You know me. I live on Sparkle Road with my buddy,  James. He is old and forgetful. This morning he put his shirt on wrong-side-out!   I have to look after him. Oh. Wait! Chance lives with us, too. He's a newborn cubby someone left in a basket on our doorstep. He's a wee little thing.

Know what? I'm being a very good citizen. That's 'cuz Santa is watching me. He brings toys to good bear cubs. Santa watches us from the Anik satellite. I'm writing a letter to Santa. I want Smarties and I want a green scarf. Oh! Wait! I want a red fire truck for Chance so we can play with it in the bathtub and make siren noises. Chance needs a green scarf and a space ray gun, too. Then we can go lion hunting together. Should we ask Santa for a lion? I'm gonna fax this to Merry Christmas and to the baby Jesus and the shepherds and the three wise guys, and oh! I'll fax it to my Member of Parliament, too.

I know where Santa lives. He lives at the North Pole. That's pretty far from here. He lives with Rudolph the Nasally-challenged Reindeer, and elves and Merry Christmas. I know Santa's Postal Code. It's HOH OHO. Oh, wait. I want snow for Merry Christmas and peanut butter. If it's okay Santa, can you bring us a lion? Not a real big one, though. If you can't bring a lion, could you bring us a wallermelon?

Did you hear that? It's James. He's hollering, "Ho! Ho! Ho! Where's my handsome bear cubs? Where are the Sons of Windsor and the Princes of Ontario?" That us, Charles and Chance. We're gonna go find him and let him tickle our ears and kiss our noses. He gives the bestest hugs.

This is me, Charles the Bear Cub saying, "Get ready, good citizens! Be on your best behaviour. Keep your hands in your pockets at Zeller's! Merry Christmas is coming! Santa is coming, too."