I met last week
with our fellow conjurors and they asked me to send this message.
They have watched you ever since you abandoned our laboratory
to take up residence in the land of ice. They understand that
you perform simpler magics now. Magics that enable your sleigh
to move faster than the light itself. Magics that allow your
own corpulent self to descend any chimney, no matter how small
or convoluted. The joy and hope you bring to so many cannot
be denied, yet these are difficult times, and it is obvious
that greater magics may soon be needed to save all that we find
familiar or comforting. I am setting out through the north forest
to try and find you. There is information that I need to share
that I cannot trust to any letter. I will search first around
the ice falls where we parted many years ago. If you can, meet
me there, and bring along the book the master gave you so many
years ago. It will be needed. Some of its knowledge can be found
nowhere else. Until then, my friend, beware of the dark shadows
that spread across your mind. They are not what you think.
The Ransom Note
by Alan C. Baird
by Ed Barrett
Here is my neck which I am gluing, almost. I think youd be a pal in outer space. Just because a building happens to be tallest doesnt mean it isnt going to be terrorist-proof. Please read the message attached to the snowman. Always act as if you were not a snowman, and if you get the point, pretend you almost got it. The paper rises but is not attached to the sky: just staring sadly into space is not a question. If a terrorist takes you, melt instantly. Show valor to be tall the way everything is tall to an interplanetary snowman who must do battle with a terrorist when she lands and almost breaks into the space station: it was still attached to its launch pad like an eyelash attached to its eyelid on eyes that have witnessed tall winter evenings wandering endlessly into space in an infinite succession of snowmen, solitary and transfixed and almost invulnerable to a terrorist. After a while the terrorist entered the command module and attached explosives to it. She was almost finished and headed for the tallest rocket, but a snowman carrying a special freezer space-gun attacked. That is why space is filled with floating terrorists, frozen white as snowmen to whom we must attach carrots for noses and tall brooms before we can see the planets that are almost there. And I am almost aware of you in distant space, secret and invisible like a tall terrorist and everything I attach to a snowman.
by Joshua Edwards
First off, Id like to congratulate you and Mrs. Clause.
I saw the picture in the paper, and what a
buck! Twelve points it must have been! Anyhow, I am
writing (again, ha! ha!) because the letter I sent you
in July was returned. I guess you probably dont open
up shop until September or so, which is understandable to
me, since I also collect unemployment during the slow season.
Let me say one thing though, and please dont take
this the wrong way, but I really think that you
all up North there ought to get “wired” (which means
that you should get e-mail and a website), and pronto.
Imagine how many kids would start to care! You could
even set up a system where theyd get an identification
code, with which they could check their “naughty” or “nice”
This isnt really why Im writing, though. Im writing
in regards to WHAT I WANT (I bet youve never
heard that one before! ha! ha!). Im just going to
list the stuff in no particular order and let you
decide what to give me:
a donkey, a trip to
Paris, a new camera loaded with black-and-white film,
a mystery novel series (in full), a new tie rack,
a subscription to Sports Illustrated, a Nerf football, golf clubs,
enough cinder blocks to build a small cottage with, and
an ambulance (if you have the room in your sleigh!) . . .
Its been a rough year, and my stats arent reflective
of how hard Ive tried. In some ancient societies, it
was actually a compliment to your wife if you slept
with another woman (this is before Christ got you a
job, of course). And monetary transactions went with sex like
love and marriage. So, as you may be able to
tell, Ive been reading lots of history (and paying for
sex! ha! ha!). But seriously, she was pregnant anyhow, you
understand. You can probably also identify with my position in
the whole “road rage” incident (God bless my lawyer!), what—
with those dipshits they give pilot licenses to these days.
Just because she was on a bike doesnt mean she
wasnt seriously threatening me. She was wearing a hair net
in the middle of the day, for crying out loud!
She must be a fucking nut case! Unless her mother
dressed her like that for school! Which would be an
even worse statement on her character.
If Ive learned anything
this year, it is that you cant choose who you
love and that sometimes you get the shit end of
stick, no matter how many people are behind you in
line. Wait— gotta go, the guards are going to let
us out into the courtyard (anyways, you know what it
outta here by Christmas for sure, and
will probably move back to Sacramento. Hopefully this year youll
find me. If not, just give my son stuff; hes
still at his moms in Phoenix.
Lots of love,
Back to the winner.