Each year, due mostly to minor misspellings and very poor penmanship, hundreds of children’s letters are sent to Satan, Dark Lord of the Underworld. Always in the market for the souls of innocents, Satan will often take the time to respond.

Dear Satan,

What I really want this year more than anything is a Barbie Dream House. It’s pretty and pink and I will keep it in my room near my bed!

Merry Christmas,

Allison, Age 6

Allison,

It really should go without saying, but I will not be getting you this so-called dream house because I, of course, do not want to. But I will suggest this: buy it yourself. Simply take two or three dollars from your mom or dad’s wallet each day (adults never know the exact amount they have) and soon enough you’ll have your useless and silly miniature house. (Although, really, it’s Barbie’s body you should be working to attain.)

Why you and so many others feel the need to tell me your age is something that will forever baffle me.

Regards,

Satan, Infinite

Dear Satan,

I am Daniel and I love you. I want an Xbox for Christmas.

Daniel, Age 9

Dear Daniel (Am I getting your name right? You only mentioned it twice in your ten-word letter),

Again with the age. Why must I know that you are nine years old? How does this information benefit me in any way? And yet, I digress.

I’ve gone ahead and wasted five minutes of my life Googling this “Xbox,” and I suppose I’m left with one question: Why? This game “Grand Theft Auto” indeed seems quite fun, but why waste your days sitting in front of the TV when the sun is shining outside—where, incidentally, there are many actual cars to be stolen. If you want to steal a car at gunpoint, punch innocent bystanders, and pick up prostitutes in your stolen ride, by all means, young man, get out there and do it! I know I don’t get all the current newspapers down here (really just the New York Post), but I don’t remember reading about any shortage of cars, guns, or hookers. Dammit, Daniel, get out there and live!

Your Friend,

Satan, Older Than Eternity

Dear Satan,

I just want my mommy and daddy to get together.

Stephen, Age 11

Stephen,

You’re over ten. Stop telling people your age. It’s childish!

As for your mommy and daddy, I’m sensing some passive aggression in your letter. Maybe it’s my own shit, but it feels as if you’re blaming me for their separation. While I did, in fact, put Vicki from accounting in front of your father to tempt him, I did not have your father lie so unconvincingly to your mother about “working late.” I may be guilty of having that snake trick Eve, but there are some snakes that I don’t control.

But I feel bad. I’m going to send you something called an “Xbox.”

Best,

Satan

Dear Satan,

I want a computer so I can do better in school and get a good job and make lots and lots of money.

From,

David

Dear David,

First of all, bravo for not telling me your age. You have no idea how many people are concluding their letters with this random of piece if information. It’s like, “All Best, Satan, Shoe Size 9 ½” or “Regards, Satan, 185 lbs. (190 around the holidays!).”

But, anyway, on to your letter. Being the embodiment of pure evil, I will not get you this computer. I’m not Mark Zuckerberg. (Or am I? Kidding, I’m not.) But if you really want a job that allows you to make a great deal of money in a fast and unethical way (a rather admirable goal in my opinion), you can go ahead and send me your résumé. I have a number of very close friends at Goldman Sachs.

Regards,

Satan, 5' 10" (LOL)

Dear Satan,

All I want for Christmas is world peace!

Molly, Age 4

Dear Molly,

No.

–S