Just like Santa Claus, a farmer works all year on a commodity, and at the end of the year he gives it all away.

He had a broad face and a little round belly, That shook, when he laughed, like a bowlful of jelly.

You know, in a way, 'Dear Santa Claus' is rather stuffy... Perhaps something a little more intimate would be better... Something just a shade more friendly..."
"How about 'Dear Fatty'?

Later that day I went back to the old turf-house door and drew back the ivy. There between the stones was the dried-out bird's nest that was no longer in use because its owner was on her foreign holidays. I eased my letter to Santa out of my pocket and tucked it into the nest. I considered this the ideal resting place because the owner and Santa both belonged to foreign places and came here across the sky. There was the mystery of the unknown about the worlds they both came from; they belonged in the sky and my letter was destined to join them there when the time was right.

Santa is like a queen bee. All the elves are his drones, who exist to feed him royal jelly, which I guess would be milk and cookies. If an elf escapes and eats royal cookies, it will turn into another Santa. That’s what all those mall Santas are. They’re trying to start their own festive colonies.

I believed in Santa Claus until I was 12!