Letter to Santa Claus

Dear Sir, My name is Ngo Thi Be Ty, and I live in the city.

After much thought, deliberation, and anxiety, today I have finally mustered the strength and determination to write this letter to you, Grandpa, to present the following matter:

For many Christmases now, I've wanted a present. I like so many things, from stuffed dogs and bunnies to dolls, plastic chickens and ducks, and wooden toy cars—I like them all. Grandpa has so many of those things, because I've seen pictures and photos of him carrying a gift bag, and all those things peek out.

Yet he never gave me a gift. Even though every Christmas Eve I stayed up waiting and had prepared a shoe for him to put his presents in. I also wrote him many letters, clearly addressed to "Santa Claus, 1 Sky Avenue," but he never came.

I was so sad. I was so miserable. I kept thinking that Santa had forgotten me. But then I told myself: how could that be so absurd, since Santa Claus never forgets anyone. So I went to investigate, and today I found out the truth.

Dear Santa Claus.

Did you not give me a toy because you couldn't find my house? It's really a hassle because my house is number 30, and there are more than a dozen houses numbered 30 on just one street, not to mention 30 Bis, 30H, 30B, and 30 Bis Bis – to the point that some families are so annoyed they've put up signs saying "30 times 30 here." Honestly, I don't understand why people talk about billions and billions of dollars these days, but they keep using the same house numbers over and over again. Don't even mention Santa Claus; even my relatives, when they come from the countryside, sometimes spend three hours looking for my house number after driving two hours. I guess you couldn't find my house, got angry, and left, so I didn't get a present, right?

Oh dear, why didn't you ask the electricity bill collector, the water bill collector, or the telephone bill collector? They always find my house; they never get it wrong!

Furthermore, I suspect you might have found the wrong house and gone to the wrong street. My house is on Whale Street, and there are six such streets in this city, in six different districts. All letters to me, to reach my address, must clearly state "Ngo Thi Be Ty - Whale Street - Riverside District," but sometimes I still get confused because the city has Embankment District, Dike District... People wonder why a river only has two banks, yet there are so many different districts, and I can't answer that either. But to distinguish them, just look for the bank with the most small houses; that's the right place for me, sir. Or maybe you couldn't get to my place because of traffic? It's true that many nights, especially Christmas Eve, the road to my house is usually jammed, even bicycles can't move, let alone Santa's reindeer sleigh. But I thought your sleigh could fly through the sky. Or maybe your sleigh got caught in the power lines? It's true that the wires here are a tangled mess, like a ball of hair, and I know that even an airplane wouldn't survive if it ran into them, let alone a deer. So, you can take a taxi to the end of the street, call me, and my mother and I will come to pick you up.

Or perhaps you didn't come to my house because you thought many other old men had already? Santa Claus, I told you, besides the man who collects the electricity, water, and telephone bills, only the garbage collectors occasionally visit my house, and they never bring presents.

So I really hope you'll visit me this Christmas Eve, because next year I'll be called Big Baby, not Little Baby anymore, and it will be even harder to get a stuffed rabbit. I know my house is far away, and it's difficult for you to find me, but I still dream of it, even if it's just once. You can go to all the other addresses and come to my place last. If you have a doll with a broken leg or a stuffed dog with a torn ear, I'd be very happy to receive it, Grandpa. Please come.

I'm really looking forward to it.

Ngo Thi Be Ty

30 Whale Street, Riverside District

According to VNE - Laugh