A/N: hey guys!

MERRY CHRISTMAS MERRY CHRISTMAS MERRY CHRISTMAS MERRY CHRISTMAS MERRY CHRISTMAS MERRY CHRISTMAS MERRY CHRISTMAS MERRY CHRISTMAS MERRY CHRISTMAS MERRY CHRISTMAS MERRY CHRISTMAS MERRY CHRISTMAS MERRY CHRISTMAS MERRY CHRISTMAS MERRY CHRISTMAS MERRY CHRISTMAS MERRY CHRISTMAS MERRY CHRISTMAS MERRY CHRISTMAS MERRY CHRISTMAS MERRY CHRISTMAS MERRY CHRISTMAS MERRY CHRISTMAS MERRY CHRISTMAS MERRY CHRISTMAS MERRY CHRISTMAS!

Woohoo! I love Christmas!

Mmmk, so I said I would, and so I did. Think of it as my Christmas present to you! :D

I'm not going to update Check it off, because my brain hasn't functioned enough to think of something to write. However, I did write this last night at like, midnight waiting for Santa to come. Which he didn't.

Which really depressed me.

Because I miss Santa. A buttload.

Anyways, this is what me and my half-asleep brain has come up with, and right now, I'm waiting for the Ham to cook while my family is like, half-asleep from the Christmas Eve Party we had last night. Mmk.

So, enjoy, and it'd be nice to review! Think of it as your Christmas present to me! Yay!

And for those other awesome people who don't celebrate Christmas, Happy Chrismahannakwanzikah!



Dear Santa,

Hey. Uhm. It's me, Gabriella Montez. I'm not sure if you remember me. I was the one who asked for Suzy-Q dolls ten years in a row. Yeah. I love Suzy-Q more than anything.

Who am I kidding, you probably don't. I know your job is busy and all, and I guess it must be hard to keep up with everything that everyone wants, but Santa Clause, I only want one thing this year.

I know it's cheesy, and I'm sure this letter sounds like a recent pop-hit song that some diva sang her heart out on, but I really want it. Really, really, badly. Like, no other.

So, I understand if your slightly pissed that I "didn't believe" in you the past few years. I did, though, honestly! I just pretended not to, so my 'non-believer' friends wouldn't rag me about it. I still set out cookies for you every Christmas Eve, and I made sure the fireplace was turned off (most years, I'm still sorry about 2002, I hope your ass-I mean butt is ok). My mom and I still put cute little Rudolph ornaments around.

Speaking of that, I think you and I need to have a talk. I know you're Santa Clause and everything, but do you honestly think it's a good idea to single out Rudolph, to put all the pressure on him? I mean, I'm sure you're pee-your-pants happy that the deer can, not only sprout antlers and fly, but also has a bright red glowing nose, but don't you think he might feel a little tied down about all the pressure? Think about it, Santa. If you can't see anything, you're depending on Rudolph to "guide your sleigh" right? Also, don't you think that all the other reindeer would feel just a tiny bit neglected? I know I would, and I'm a single child. Honestly, there's an entire song just about Rudolph. Don't you think Prancer, or Dasher deserve a song? I think they do. Rudolph may have a bright-ass nose, but Blitzen is the fastest and strongest sucker out there. He at least deserves some kind of recognition. All he gets is a place in line before grand ol' Rudolph is announced in his song. Honestly, Santa. It should be all about equality and fucking Blitzen isn't getting any.

I'm sorry, Santa. I didn't mean to totally abuse your rights on treating your reindeer however you would like, but you've got to believe me when I say I just want the reindeer to have equal rights.

Anyway, back to the topic. I know exactly what I want this year. No, it's not a hand grenade to chuck at my dead-beat ex-father who now has a bald head and spends his life drinking away in some illegal island off the coast of nowhere. Although, that's still on my list.

But no longer at the top. See, it all started when I was helping my neighbor sell lemonade in the summer for her yearly charitable donation thing. I didn't realize that we had a new neighbor, and when he stole like, twenty cups of lemonade from our stand, I fell for him. Well, no. Not quite like that, but after a six month period of hanging out and being best friends, I had. His name's Troy Bolton. He's just. Well, he's like perfection wrapped in a box. We started out by hooking my worst enemy's bra onto-well, you know the story, Santa. I forgot you "know everything". Let's forget about that incident when making the naughty list, mmk? Thanks.

So, in conclusion (my English teacher would absolutely murder me for writing that phrase of horrendous non-english happiness), I want him. I know it might sound very blunt and straightforwarded, but I've never wanted anything more than I want him. I want him to be mine to hold, to kiss, to love. I want him to hold my hand when we're strolling in the park, and I want him to be the one who cuddles with me during a scary movie. I just- I want him, Santa. You don't understand. I would trade all my Suzy-Q dolls just to be able to have him in my arms right now, and …hold on, Santa, someone's knocking on my balcony door, and---

Holy Shit you work fast.

Love,

Gabriella Montez.


Santa,

Hey, my man. It's Troy. You know, Troy Bolton? What's up? Listen. I know that you're pissed about the whole burn my little brother's underwear on a stick thing from last week, but let's put that aside for now.

I really really really want something this year. It's not like how I "really wanted" that monster truck when I was eight, and not like how I "really wanted" that new Audi last year. Though, let me mention, I never got it, and it slightly decreased the amount of faith I have in you.

Only slightly though.

A few months ago, I met a girl. Please, Santa. Don't roll your eyes. She's not like any other girl I've met. She's smart and witty and funny, and she makes me laugh all the time when I'm with her. She makes me cry when she cries, and whenever she holds onto me during a scary movie, I can't help but get the strange butterflies in my stomach. You know, the ones that all the sappy romance chick flicks go on and on about? Yeah, I get them.

I feel like such a girl.

But I can't help it! She just makes me feel that way. I mean, honestly, if I hadn't stolen the lemonade from her this summer and then apologized for it by attaching Bridget Smith's (the neighborhood tramp's) bra strap onto a---well. You know what happened. It wasn't pretty.

Speaking of that incident, let's put that aside too, please?

Anyways. I just have fallen head over heels in this feeling that has a death grip on me. I always act like such an idiot around her, and yet she still hangs out with me. Even after I discovered my feelings for her ,and I would randomly gurgle out odd sentences, she would still smile at me with her gorgeous smile and God, I would fall deeper into this feeling.

What is this feeling? I'm not sure. I know I'm too young to be saying it's love. Especially since I've known her for less than a year, but I'm sure it's way more than just a 'crush' or a 'like'. It's more of an intense 'like-a lot'. Yeah, that's perfect. I'm insanely in like-a-lot with her. She makes me just want to be me. Not basketball God or 'player' of the school. (Speaking of that, let's keep that one night with Janet and Jessica aside and off the naughty list too. Thank goodness you're so forgiving, errr right Santa?)

I just've never wanted her as much as I've ever wanted anything. So why don't I just get her myself? Well, I'm a wimp. I'm the biggest wimp in the universe. Bigger than that guy on TV who doesn't use Hefty. Yeah. That big. I just don't want anything to change between us, you know? I'm so comfortable being with her that I wouldn't want it to ruin anything. I just. You know what?

Screw that.

I don't care. I'm so deep in like-a-lot that I'm going to risk it. Yes. I am. That's it. I'm going to see her right now, Santa. I don't care whether or not she says yes or no. I'm going over and I'm telling her how I feel. That I'm heads over heels in like-a-lot with her.

Wish me luck, Santa.

Thanks again!

Yeah, man,

Troy Bolton


Oh Santa,

You are the biggest miracle worker ever. Honestly. I never knew that you could work so fast. I have to say that if it weren't for you, Troy Bolton would not be sitting on my bed, reading my original letter to you. I-you rock. Honestly. He came and he just kissed me.

LIKE THAT!

Just kissed me. No mistletoe or anything. And then he started stuttering like crazy. Saying crazy things like "Santa" "like-a-lot" and "wimp". I didn't really understand, but I'm pretty sure I knew what he was trying to say. So… I just kissed him back. And apparently, that allowed himself to open his mouth and talk properly. He told me he liked me. Wait, no. Not just liked me, but "like-a-lot" ed me. Weird, I know. But that's why I like-a-lot him too.

I do.

And now, he's finished reading my letter, and he wants to write to you too, so he's trying to take me pen and-

Santa, my man. You. Rock. A lot.

I love you , man.

You and my parents.

And hopefully Ella, here.

Man, you rock so much, and-

Ok, Gabriella here again. He was getting kind of too into the whole "man" lingo. So, once again, Santa.

Thanks a lot. A lot a lot a lot.

I heart you.

Thanks for Troy Bolton.

Sincerely,

Gabriella Montez.

P.S. Think about Blitzen!


Ick, horrible ending, I understand :D

But honestly, that was so much fun to write! It really was.

So, once again! Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays!

C: strawberriesandsunshine