.018--TEXT [One bitchy, passive-agressive letter to Santa]

Dec 04, 2010 16:15

[Narvin couldn't hold off the compulsion forever. But even if he *had* to write to Santa, he could damn well decide what he was going to say to him/the Admiral.]

Dear Santa Childish Adaptation of a Primitive Solstice Superstition,

I would like to have a home to go home to for the holidays. Failing that, I would like a Type 98 TARDIS.

For Kay I would like a Sontaran Stenk 11 pistol and a portable containment vortex. For Omega a Molenski Univarius. For the Doctors, I'd like you to give them a sense of dignity and responsibility, but I suspect they'd not accept it. And I’d like some dwarf battle bread for Ardent. Holidays are about tradition, after all. That’s why you’re forcing this on all of us, isn’t it? To uphold a foolish human tradition? You may as well appease a few other races’ traditions while you’re at it.

But what I’d like most of all for this amorphous winter festival is to retain my agency and not suffer any compulsions, mental manipulations, or outside-inflicted shifts of identity or personality. I suppose it's a bit too late for that, though, isn't it.

Sincerely,
Coordinator Narvin of the Celestial Intervention Agency

team xenophobia!, this is why narvin has no friends, narvin is a bitch, bah humbug!

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