The St. James Version: Naughty Edition

Dear Santa,

By now, I’m sure you’ve heard about “the incident” – most everyone has – and by now I’m sure my “good boy” standing has plummeted. But if you really know everything, Santa, you know that it wasn’t really my fault. You know that the cocaine just blew up my nose, and that I accidentally fell onto that straw with the bag of K attached to it. And it wasn’t even my fault that I was at the party. If you’ll recall, I had gone home and gone to bed. I WAS ASLEEP, SANTA. Check your surveillance cameras. And if my dear friend Eva hadn’t dragged me out of bed and BACK to the World of Wonder Christmas party, I never would have snuck across the street to the Spotlight, and done the drugs that led to the psychic premonition which prompted me to go to Beverly Hills the next morning and cause that scene at Ralph Lauren and accuse the managers of lying to me about the black velvet opera slippers. If I could take it all back I would, Santa. BELIEVE YOU ME. I’m pretty sure I blew my chance of ever getting those damn slippers. Which is why I’m appealing to YOU.

Let me start from the beginning. I know things are hectic this time of year, and you are hearing a lot of cases from a lot of bad little boys and girls, and the facts must all be blurring together at this point. Let me break it down for you.

In fact, let’s start with the slippers. Santa, you know I’ve been after these slippers for a while now. They have skulls embroidered on them, Santa. SKULLS! IN SILVER THREAD! Remember when they were only for sale in Japan, and all the fashionistas suddenly remembered dental appointments in Kyoto, so they could snatch up a pair? Well, I’ve been on the waiting list for them HERE for three and a half months. And you KNOW how OCD I can get so, yes, I admit to harassing the help and calling several times a day to check the stock. But, you see, they were only getting 12 pairs in and there were 115 people on the waiting list SO I HAD TO BE RUTHLESS.

Well, cut to that bloody Christmas party, when I was still being a good little boy, and if you must find blame for what happened next, blame Eva. I do. I was being a good little boy, DAMNIT! I went home after two drinks and crawled into bed with my Val Lewton DVD collection. I was JUST drifting off to sleep when there was a knock at the door. EVA. Damn that party girl! She forced me to get dressed again and go BACK to the World of Wonder Christmas party. And that’s where the problems began. I drank and drank and drank some more. I found some drugs. In my pocket. I dragged the dregs of the party over to Spotlight, and from there things get a bit hazy.

I do remember going home sometime after sunrise. And as I was lying in bed thinking about those slippers, I somehow got it into my head that they had arrived at the store, and if I just let the salespeople know HOW MUCH I wanted them, then they would bump me to the top of the list. That’s the way my mind works after a night of partying. “Just SHOW THEM how much you want the slippers! Sure! That’ll work!”

So I got back up, DROVE into Beverly Hills, and waited for the store to open. Then I STORMED in, accused them all of withholding the slippers, told them they were lying when they said they hadn’t come in yet, and demanded to see the manager.

Well, needless to say, things went downhill from there, and as I was being escorted from the store, I suddenly realized that instead of being bumped to the top of the list, I was probably being scratched off it entirely.

So, Santa, PLEASE, I’m making a last ditch effort to you, PLEASE make things right with the people at Ralph Lauren. I’ll go in and apologize – I’m usually quite charming no matter what I'm on – but, Santa, I NEED THOSE SLIPPERS.

Do what you can, work your Christmas magic for me, and I PROMISE TO BE A GOOD BOY NEXT YEAR.

Hugs and cookies,
– James St James

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