Dear Santa,
I have been a good boy.
It really wasn't my fault what happened at Bono's Christmas party. It was Edge who spiked the punch with too much water. I can't help it if I drank 20 glasses. It was so good---smelled and tasted just like vodka.
I thought it was funny when I put Paul's red tee on my head and danced the macarena on the chair while singing `Mysterious Ways'. I didn't mean to break Bono's ipod and don't know why Bono would sue me for stealing.
I don't remember calling James's wife a rotten pig---even though she looked like one with blue eye shadow and red lipstick!
And when I threw up on Susan's husband's palm, it was only because I ate too much of that burger.
After all that fun, I admit I was a little tired. So I fell asleep on my way home and drove my bike through my neighbor's garage. I don't think that was any reason for my neighbor to call me a stupid cat and have me arrested for arson!
So, Santa...here I sit in my jail cell on Christmas Eve, all battered and sore. And I'm really not to blame for any of this damn stuff. Please bring me what I want the most---bail money!
Sincerely and what yours,
wayne (Really a nice boy!)
P.S. It's only 2 bucks!
