I realize it has been a while since I have added to this blog, so here is a short piece I wrote and delivered to the Arts & Letters Club in Toronto last week. All best wishes for the season.

Dear Santa,

My name is Coliander Parsley. You may know the name. I am on your naughty list. In fact, if I have played my cards right, I will be at the top of your naughty list. My name will cause the eggnog to curdle. The elves will see my name and shudder their little elvish shudders. The reindeer will go off their feed and refuse to fly.

Yes, I have been that bad. I have worked at it, and it wasn’t easy, because, to tell the truth, Santa, I am not a naughty child. It hurts me to play pranks and drive my teachers around the bend. But I have worked at doing so for the past twelve months with a determination that I can only describe as heroic.

And why? Because, Santa, I have heard that the children on your naughty list don’t get the nice presents they ask for. They get a lump of coal. Ho ho ho, you apparently say, that will teach that little villain to behave. Reach into your stocking and pull out not a nice toy or an exciting game, but a lump of coal.

Santa, I don’t know whether you have been aware of the rise in heating costs lately, but, well, I have. And frankly, I think I have been bad enough to deserve several lumps of coal. A whole cartload of coal, if you have it handy. I won’t thank you for it, because thanking you might get me struck off the naughty list, but I will think of you very fondly.

Yours, actually a rather sweet kid, Coliander Parsley