December 9th, 2024
Dear Mr. Fudd,
If you notice a change in font from previous correspondences, it is due to the use of my Christmas present from my octogenarian distant relative who stumbled upon a beautiful Royal typewriter in pristine condition at a garage sale. At least that’s the story he gave me.
Congratulations on the grandchild and the successful literary assault on the good people of Bliss, Idaho. I trust both events have resulted in unparalleled merry-making by all involved. I enjoyed your Christmas letter, but found the decapitated bull an all too familiar sight. My wife and I once watched the murder of 6 consecutive bulls at the conclusion of the festival of San Fermin in Pamplona, Spain. My favorite bull was named Gabriela, and the feminine name attributed to him seemed to have really upset the poor fellow. Being murdered didn’t help the situation. When the matador went for the kill shot with his sword, Gabriela thrust herself backward, snapped the sword in half, and charged his assailant. It didn’t end well for either.
I’ve included my children’s letters to Santa since I seem to have misplaced Mr. Kringle’s address and I have some promises to keep regarding posting their annual list of demands. My middle child didn’t bother to write one. She’s kind of like that.
In the name of merriment,
C.S. Beaty
•••
Each time I wrote to Haywood, I added a little flair of my own. I inherited my dad’s stamp collection, which he kept for roughly three years during the mid-90s before losing interest in collecting postage. Not having any other use for the 32 to 34 cent Looney Tunes stamps, I started using them to send my wife postcards. I tried to match the postcard’s theme or location with an appropriate stamp from my dad’s collection, but I was never sure what to do with all the World War II or prominent physicist stamps my dad had assembled. Until I started writing frequent letters to Haywood Fudd.
I found a hipster-stationary store and bought a variety of odd-sized and odd-colored hipster envelopes, but that still felt a bit underwhelming for the treatment Fudd deserved. So, I bought a hot wax seal with the letter “B,” and then a hot wax seal of a bat, and then had a custom hot wax seal of a jackalope made. We were getting there.
But the real joy came from the bonus added content I shoved in each envelope. This same hipster-stationary shop sold collectible Barbie cards from the 1980s, so I selected a few of my favorites to send to Haywood.
Which then led to me keeping every intriguing scrap of paper or other flat item that I could send in a letter. When my mom bought me a very Christian bookmark with some coffee/Bible verse pun, I sent it to Haywood. When I ordered a few jars of root beer-flavored mustard and they came with a “Mustard Gift Guide” from the “Mustard Hall of Fame,” I also mailed that to Haywood. And when I sent Haywood five identical stickers of the University of Nebraska-Omaha mascot Durango the bull, Fudd sent me back a bull sticker with his head chopped off. He did it very carefully.
Early on, Fudd sent me two dollars in each of his letters, but once he learned of my devotion to this correspondence, he scaled back his budget. But on occasion he still burned holes in the paper with an open flame.
When I started regularly writing, I compiled my typewritten unedited essays into a booklet for my family—these were the books I was having made when Mike the Printer first introduced me to Fudd. So when I repeated the task in 2024, I sent a volume to my new pen pal. And in return, Haywood sent me a compilation of his own complete collection of letters to the residents of Bliss, Idaho—gift wrapped and with a Christmas card.
•••
Dear, Santa for Christmas I really want uggs, roller skites, Taylor Swift curtains, Taylor Swift bed sheets, and led light lights.
Dear Santa I also have some questions. Why do your elfs come to our houses and move around the house. Why can’t we meet you. How do you feed all your elfs. Why are you friends with our parents.
From, Manuela
•••
Dear Santa,
I want for my presents. I want guns but not hurting ones but ball ones. I want some legos big ones so I could build them with dad. I want ohh four more smart watches. What does that say? Ohh I want some hot wheel tracks, very big ones so I can play and not bored. OK.... Are you just copying what I’m saying? And I want some costumes. I want some Batman costumes and police officer costumes and Flash and Batman one again and utility belt and some presents. Do you make elves? If not, that’s going to be cool because elves are kind of weird because in my book it looks like they’re going to go into a bathtub and they’re not going into a bathtub.
Kener Beaty
