“W-what?!”
“Ho, ho, ho, ho!”
“S-Santa?!”
“Yes, I am, my little girl.”
“B-but I’m… a guy. (gulp)”
“«Dear Santa. I wish I was a girl with ginger slightly curly hair, green eyes, freckles…» That’s what your letter said. Oh, you are talking about the costume. Well, I thought you would like it because of the season. Ho, ho, ho.”
“N… N-no, th-that’s not what I’m… concerned about, but about this… present in my chest. (gulp) I mean… I remember I wrote: B-cup…”
“Oh, well, you had been a good girl almost all year; however, what is that with what you substitute the milk in the cup?”
“W… W… We-well… I… I… I… Mh… (gulp) I thought that… Well… this might be… more… of your like.”
“Ho, ho, ho. Any other day I would have gladly accepted, but to night I’m driving to bring hope to the kids of the world. That’s why I only accept some milk and cookies. Although, those presents are a manifestation of your own “greed”. After all, I wasn’t going to feed you to Krampus just for a little slip at the end of your record. Ho, ho, ho.”
“Eh? But…”
“Well, my little girl I have to leave, the night is short and there are still some places I still have to visit. But you don’t need to worry, I’m sure that, by autumn, you will have gotten use to them. Ho, ho, ho.”
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