Letters From Mrs. ClausbyVon Hauffen©
Me and my partner found these last year while searching a missing person's apartment for clues. Who knows what happened to the guy. All I know is this was the best lead we had and the NYPD sure as hell ain't flying up to the North Pole to investigate. Long story short: I made me some copies before turning them over to evidence. Believe what you will. But these have stirred up my Christmas "feeling" ever since. - Cheers!
Mrs. G. Claus,
Canada, H0H 0H0
June 12, 2003
Mr. Flynn –
I must say that I am very surprised by the letter you wrote to my husband Mr. Claus this year. In fact, surprised is not even word enough to describe the things you asked for. Shocking! Utterly shocking!
As I write this I am curious to know just what you were thinking by asking my husband for ME as your Christmas present! And you did not stop by simply asking; you proceeded to describe in detail after stunning detail what you would do to me once he delivered me upon your "king-sized mattress." And with two big red bows tied around my… Why, I never!
It is very fortunate for you, young man that Mr. Claus was interrupted in the midst of reading your filth to go and oversee the emergency reindeer poopie duties or he would have had an aneurism! Just how would THAT make you feel if four billion children suddenly missed out on Christmas because Santa keeled over reading your disgusting pornography - Mister "I want to personally thank Mrs. Claus for two decades of yuletide joy … all night long?"
I heard him read just one word of your letter and I knew I had to snatch it off his desk and hide it away before he could come back. What I would like to know is what are you, at the ripe old age of twenty-five, doing even writing to Santa in the first place? Why this letter wasn't thrown right into the Looney Bin is beyond me. This has to be a joke, or a prank, or whatever else you young people refer to it as nowadays.
And if it isn't a prank, do you really believe that Santa would make your wish come true for Christmas? Hardly, my dear boy. I am Santa's Queen, his Ice Mistress, and he would sooner be sucked down a chimney without his Super-Slimmer-Santa-Suit before he allowed that!
And you have another thing coming if you think he is not able to satisfy a woman like me! Well, he is. He IS able to satisfy me. And I won't discuss that any further.
You should be put on the "N" List for all time. In fact, I am going to go see just how naughty you have been all these years, just as soon as I mail this letter. And if you aren't on it, then I will personally see to it that no more "joy" will be had by you at Christmas ever again!
Mrs. Godiva Claus
Mrs. G. Claus,
Canada, H0H 0H0
June 13, 2003
Dear Mr. Flynn –
I hope my last letter did not offend you terribly. I was not feeling myself yesterday. You certainly have not even received my first letter yet. But I wish I hadn't sent it now.
I feel I must apologize. Why didn't you tell Santa that you are in the Big Brother program? And that you are the Youth Pastor at your Church? Or that you help out in Soup Kitchens every Saturday, not just at Christmas time? There was not a single naughty mark on your list in all your twenty-six years. (Well, except for all those little late night "joy" sessions. And those don't truly hurt anyone at all, now do they?)
Let me ask you something, Toby – and you don't need to answer this if you don't feel comfortable. Do you really think about me during at least some of those little sessions? Toby, you have never even seen me! You have fallen in love with a falsity. Those pictures you see in movies and magazines are not me at all, but just something made up to satisfy the masses.
Do you know that when we first picked up those Saturday Evening Posts and all those television signals coming from all over the world, Mr. Claus and I traveled to meet with all the big-time media executives and movie producers? I paraded in front of each of them in my ¾ length plaid skirt and a conservative black jacket; with little black heels that I'd bought at Macy's that morning. We showed them that I am just a little woman, never an ounce over 115 pounds my entire life; not the big monstrosity you see plastered all over in the media today. You know what they told us? "No one will believe that Santa is married to a 'vixen.'" They decided to portray me however they liked!
I hope that you don't find it hard to believe, Toby; but that is the truth. And if you don't believe me, then the next time you go to your mall or to your baseball game, or to your Wal-Mart, just look at all the husky men with their cute little wives. Then maybe you can picture me and Mr. Claus as well.
I should not be doing this. My husband would think I was insane if he knew. But here is a picture of me that we took in New York City back in 1942. I have not changed much. Although on most days now I dress in a pair of slim slacks with strappy sandals that show off my painted toes, and a custom tailored suit jacket. I also spend a lot of time in those little athletic pants that all the women wear nowadays. You know - the ones with the big stripes down the side? I made my own and they fit me so much better; and they are just so much easier to do my morning jogs around the factory in.
My hair is silver-white, much as it is in that photo, but much shorter now – and certainly not long enough to put into one of those God-awful buns! I do think it frames my round little face just perfectly though. Plus, it is so much easier to keep away from my eyes when I get all hot and sweaty in the kitchen baking gingerbread cookies.
I certainly hope my picture does not disappoint you too much. If you only like your ladies plumpy then I will understand if you don't respond. Just so you know, I don't even have those glasses anymore. I wear contacts now.
Well, I suppose that is all, Toby. If this letter has set well with you, then feel free to write again. I am sorry about my first letter. Please don't ever lose your Christmas Spirit because of me.
Only six months until Christmas so you better send Mr. Claus another letter if you still want a present!
Mrs. G. Claus,
Canada, H0H 0H0
August 23, 2003
Dear Toby –
I have just reread your most recent letter for the fourth straight time. Once again, you have shocked me with the way you write. I have never had a man talk to me the way you do. And you do not even know me! My cheeks are still flushed just from reading what you wrote.
I love the part where you say you knew all along THAT was not the real me. That a woman such as me would have to be vibrant and full of energy in order to endure a life as stressful as being Mrs. Claus. And that a man as powerful and tireless as Santa would need a strong, independent woman to keep him on the straight and narrow; as well as a woman that could keep herself occupied during all those months when he is too busy. It is so true! I don't know how you knew, but all of it is the absolute truth.
As for your picture… Toby – who took a snapshot of you wearing only a towel like that? It says in your file that you were captain of the swim team in high school. Do you still swim? It looks like you must swim every day. I love to swim. Every year after Christmas, as soon as Kris has enough energy for a vacation, we fly down to this little secluded island in the Pacific. I know you won't tell anyone, will you?
I could swim in that water for days, while the reindeer chew on palm leaves and my husband just lies on the beach and gets a nice tan. (But his never looks as good as mine, I can guarantee you that!)
Should I tell you this? I can't believe I am telling you this. I don't even know you!
There is this little waterfall set back in a lagoon on this island. When I know Kris is still sleeping, I will sneak back there as fast as I can in the early morning. You know what I do there? My face is burning just telling you this. I swim in the nude. In the nude, Toby. The water is so warm and the spray from the waterfall feels so good on my face and neck and… Well, I think you understand.
Have you ever, swum in the nude? You should try it sometime. You truly should.
To answer your question, yes, I do get mail on a regular basis, so not to worry about sending me a response. You would be surprised how many children have a soft spot for poor Mrs. Claus as well. (And perhaps even some cute young men too?)
I tried to find a new letter from you to my husband, but I still don't see one. Have you asked for a new present yet? If you don't soon, then you might get left out this year. Write to me if you need any ideas. I can tell you just what to say.
Take care, Toby.
PS - Just so you know, I bribed Louie the List Elf with a batch of my special brownies. He got so "giddy" he took out all the naughty marks for what you did while writing this last letter to me. Please write me more of the same. Talk about anything your little heart desires.
Mrs. G. Claus,
Canada, H0H 0H0
October 30, 2003
Dear Toby –
Your forwardness never ceases to amaze me! It is almost how Kris was when I first met him centuries ago. So my answer to your question is: Yes! I would love to have another picture of you – and of course without the towel. But only if that is what you want. You are so very young, Toby. You probably should not even be talking to me. (Do you like older women, Toby?)
Would you like another photo of me as well? I might be able to talk Contessa into taking some better pictures of me. I bet you would like her. She is my elvish assistant that runs down to Iceland on the 15th of every month and buys me my panties and anything else I crave but can't make for myself up here at the Pole. She is the same size as me at five feet two inches tall, with the same measurements from head to toe. The only striking difference about us, other than her being 315 years younger than me, is that she has jet black hair instead of silver like mine. She also has impeccable taste in clothes. I would be completely lost with out her.
(Did you like how I threw the word "panties" in there? I thought you would. My favorite color is black. Not red, Darling. Red is only for toes).
Halloween is tomorrow. Oh, how I do love Halloween. I used to enjoy Valentine's Day, but getting the same card about being the "Main Squeeze" year after year just leaves a little to be desired. Oh, please don't think I am complaining. I adore my life here at the North Pole, I honestly do. But there are times when I wish I could just fly away from here for just a few days. Maybe take Contessa on a little shopping spree and act like silly 200 year olds again.
Do you celebrate Halloween too? Or are you too old to dress up and play fantasy now? Never grow old, Toby. I know I certainly haven't.
Last year I made myself a costume to look like a sexy feline – with whiskers and furry ears and dark eyeliner around my eyes. I even painted the tip of my nose pink. I looked almost like the Catwoman, only I wore a short black leather skirt and thigh high boots with four-inch heels. That and an ebony rhinestone studded bustier that Contessa brought back on her latest trip.
Rather than cut a hole in my favorite skirt, I simply let my "tail" emerge from right under the zipper. Of course with my zipper almost completely undone from the bottom of the skirt, it meant all those naughty elves could see just how that tail managed to not fall out!
I know it shouldn't; but it excited me. I pranced around "meowing" and flicking my tail at anyone concentrating too much on the assembly line instead of me. I made everyone laugh – and caused them to get excited right along with me. I love being the center of attention. I like being "Mrs. Claus" and knowing that I can tease and flirt to my heart's content and no one can say anything about it. Of course, none of this was good for production, I'm afraid. And every year my costumes seem to push the limit. But Kris is too busy to even notice though.
He doesn't have time to dress up at all for Halloween. And neither do the elves. It is crunch time with only eight weeks until Liftoff. This is the time of year when I need someone to talk to more than ever.
My role as Christmas approaches is more like a counselor than management. You wouldn't imagine the stress involved in producing billions of toys each year. Fortunately the elves like me enough to tell me everything on their minds. It makes it much easier for my husband to react to problems quickly – if he decides to that is.
I hope my letters are never too long. I feel like I could talk to you for days and days.
Oh well. Please write me again soon, Toby. I have enjoyed every word you have written so far.
Hugs from Goody :)
Mrs. G. Claus,
Canada, H0H 0H0
December 24, 2003
My Dearest Toby –
Well, as you can see, I am here and you are there, so you really need to think about asking for a more "practical" gift next year, Darling Boy. At this moment, I am lying by the fire all alone, but for my little snow leopard, Midnight.
You played a very dirty trick on me by sending that first letter with just a picture of you in that big winter coat. You nearly made me cry, Toby. But then that airmail letter came three days later with that other picture! And Darling… I still can't get the sight of YOU out of my mind.
And just what was that cologne you spritzed the envelope with? Even after three weeks in the mail it still was heavenly! I know I can find out by going to your file again, but I like you telling me all these things instead.
You have asked in every letter what I am wearing. Well, tonight I am wearing black satin pajamas that Contessa bought for me from a place called Victoria's Secrets. I am lounging here on the floor sipping eggnog with whiskey as I am writing. My toes are painted red though, if that helps you picture me any better – and at this moment I am burying them into the bear skin rug and letting the fire make them all toasty.
All of Santa's Helpers are in the auditorium watching my husband's progress around the world on the cinema screen. The cleanup crew has already started recycling the left over supplies and toys from this year. There it is again. I can hear all the way up here yet another cheer as Santa obviously just escaped a nasty Doberman or a fighter jet over the Ukraine.
In years past, I have usually invited Contessa or some other young nubile elf to keep me company on Christmas Eve. But tonight I feel like I have all I need in your letters. I hope that does not frighten you, Toby.
I am still amazed that you say the things you do in your letters. Your last letter has awakened feelings in me that I thought were long gone from this fragile body of mine. Do you have a girlfriend? You haven't mentioned anyone, but no young man that thinks and talks the way you do could possibly be well-behaved all the time!
Have you actually done any of the things that you talk about? I am sure you have already guessed, but my husband and I can not do most of the things you have suggested. I am just too small for him. (I think that maybe, I would even be too small for a big strong boy like you, as well!)
I am blushing again. I love that I get butterflies just from reading your words and from looking at your pictures – clothed or not!
I am sad though at the moment. I know that in a few hours my husband will be home and within just a week we will be gone to the Pacific for over a month. I don't know how I will bear being away from your letters that long. There isn't a day that goes by that I don't take out one or all of them and relax on our bed or in my tub and read every word over and over again. I always feel SO much better afterwards.
I will be thinking of you, Toby. And I will write the very moment I return. Until then, here is another photo of me. I refuse to even look at it again for fear that if I do, I will not have the courage to send it. I had Contessa take this photo just last week. That is Midnight asleep by my feet; and I am sitting at my dressing table. If you look close enough, you might even be able to see the rosy tip of my breast through the sheer negligee.
(My hand is shaking as I write that. So I am sorry for the smudges all over the page, Darling).
Other than this fire, those slippers with the black fur lining, are the only thing to keep my feet warm during the month of December. I wish you were here to do something about that.
Write me soon.
Merry Christmas Darling,
Oh, PS – That is another misconception; that the elvish are smaller than everyone else. Have you seen the movie Lord of the Rings, Toby? Last winter my husband brought back the extended DVD for this film. I believe it is one of the first films to depict our dedicated employees as the tall, proud warriors they once were. I remember Tolkien. He came here decades ago and watched our elves at work. I recall he went away with a profound sense of sadness at what they had become. He was determined to show them in a different light. I had no idea what that meant until that film.
The entire auditorium was in tears when the elves talked of leaving on the Great Ships. All in all, the film was a smashing success though. Ever since that day, I have been surrounded by Legolas impersonators of all shapes and sizes, all growing their hair long and practicing archery after hours. My husband has been trying to get Orlando Bloom to come up as a motivational speaker, but he hasn't responded to any of our letters. Oh well, maybe next year!
Mrs. G. Claus,
Canada, H0H 0H0
February 8, 2003
I don't know who else to tell. I have just been frightened out of my wits! My goodness, where to begin…
I need to be more careful, Toby. I just got back from the Pacific this morning and Contessa pulled me aside to tell me something terrible. I – Mrs. Santa Claus herself – was put on the Naughty List!
I am so ashamed. I completely forgot that once I was outside of the North Pole I was on the radar just like everyone else. And it wasn't just once. Thirty-seven times in one month, Toby! And that was not half as many times as I was actually thinking of you. Thank goodness naughty thoughts aren't added to the list too! Oh, the shame of ME ending up on the "N" List permanently would have been unbearable.
I have only Contessa to thank for my not being the talk of the entire Brotherhood of Elves. We were so fortunate that sweet little Kip was running the list. And even more fortunate that he has had a thing for Contessa for at least the last four centuries. He really isn't little at all. He is a hulking 6 foot 5, but the sweetest elf around.
(Poor little Contessa though. Her jaw was so sore she could hardly tell me how close to being found out I was! I will have to think of a way to make it up to her as soon as I finish this letter).
She wants to know all about you now though. I am afraid I have to come clean with her. I owe her that much. But not to worry. She would never betray us. And don't worry about yourself either, my Darling Boy. I will find a way to keep you off that list as well, rest assured.