All Columns in Alphabetical Order

Thursday, December 13, 2012

Lucy Vonnegut's Letter to Santa! A Must-Read Says Peachy Deegan!!! (Lucy Got Some Help Writing from Her Dad, Mover and Shaker Norb Vonnegut...)

Dear Santa,

This year I’ve been exceptionally good. But let’s not beat around the bush. I understand you have concerns about my behavior—girls talk, you know—and I’d like to set the record straight. Right here. Right now.

I’m no diva. 

Sure, I jump boys and sniff them head to toe. Justin Bieber, Ryan Gosling, and Brad Pitt to name a few. The list is long but it’s a classic case of infinite opportunity—look at my face and tell me I’m not adorable—and zero willpower. There’s something about guys that makes my knees knock. 

These days I’m doing my best to best to flop on my back and hold back my paws so the cast can rub my tummy. Hollywood is all about moderation, right? And you must admit, I’ve worked hard to control the belching.

Sure, there’s the occasional slip every now and then, a real ripsnorter of a burp. But you try avoiding gas when you bend over and eat with your face in a bowl. Trust me, it takes every ounce of control this girl can muster just to stay dainty. I may be the cutest thing ever. But beauty requires discipline.

So if you can see your way to giving me a pass on the sniffing and belching—by the way I chewed a chair once, but Norb said it was okay—I would really like a little sister in my Christmas stocking.

I’m thinking something small and ugly, a puppy that plays chase on demand, prefers me to Norb and, above all, doesn’t lick my nose when I’m napping. A bulldog would be perfect except they get too big. In this family, there’s only enough room for one alpha dog, and that’s me. Plus, Norb would freak at anything bigger than thirty pounds.

So, Santa, I don’t mean to tell you your biz. My little sister should be small, ugly and, oh yeah, a non-barker. I’ve got the guard dog thing covered. And if you’re wondering whether I need a cat, whoa right there, big guy. It’s not funny.

I’ll be waiting by the chimney on Christmas Eve.


More of how We Love Lucy:

Back to TOP