twicketface

Dear Santa,

I have been a good boy.

It really wasn't my fault what happened at Terry's Christmas party. It was Marie who spiked the punch with too much root beer. I can't help it if I drank 548952371983.523 glasses. It was so good---smelled and tasted just like toot.

I thought it was funny when I put Anne's toe ring on my head and danced the Rumba on the love seat while singing `Keep 'Em Coming'. I didn't mean to break Terry's beard trimmer and don't know why Terry would sue me for sodomy.

I don't remember calling Jeremy's wife a skinny goat---even though she looked like one with green eye shadow and blue lipstick!

And when I threw up on Kristie's husband's hinder, it was only because I ate too much of that cream cheese.

After all that fun, I admit I was a little tired. So I fell asleep on my way home and drove my tractor through my neighbor's basement. I don't think that was any reason for my neighbor to call me a hairy mouse and have me arrested for theft!

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

Sincerely and shiny yours,
Brian Ronald Murton the first (Really a nice boy!)

P.S. It's only 6 bucks!