Dear Timmy,
Thank you very much for the nice letter you sent this year. I hope you're getting as excited for Christmas as I am. I do, however, regret to inform you of some issues that came up with regards to your requests.

I won't be able to bring you the iPhone you asked for. It's not that we've run out of stock or anything, we've actually got plenty of them, it's just that you live in a very tough neighbourhood. I hope I'm not sounding like I'm being prejudiced or anything like that, it's just- the odds of you keeping the iPhone for more than a week are quite slim. I've seen kids in the past cry their little eyes out after someone steals their new Xbox or Wiimote.

Then there's also my own safety to consider. I'm an old white man and you live in a rather ˜colourful' area. It would be foolish for me to be gallivanting around your neighbourhood in my nice fully-equipped sleigh packed to the brim with expensive toys for all the good little boys and girls. I've seen "Menace II Society," I know what goes on.

Sadly, the iPhone isn't the only thing I can't deliver. I wish I were able to give you everything you asked for, but it just won't be feasible. The fact is that there is just no cure for cancer. I promise I'm not holding out on you, Tim. I really don't have any way to go about raising your white cell count. I had some of the elves participate in clinical trials but their exhausted withered bodies are a sign that progress still needs to be made.

Finally, and this is the hardest thing to say of them all: I can't bring your mother back. You just need to understand, Timmy, that sometimes when someone you love is taken from you so tragically, the only way to get her back is to pay the ransom and follow the instructions you are given. You can't just ask me to let her go. That's not how I operate.

I don't want to be the bad guy here, Timmy; it's just business. Production costs have skyrocketed and we need to recover some of our losses. We've been asking around for some type of bailout package, something that seems to be on everyone's list this year, but to no avail.

So, if you would like to have a Merry Christmas this year, meet me in the park on Friday with the money and maybe some cookies, and we'll make some magic happen. You just need to believe. Just like I believe I don't need to tell you that I want small, unmarked and non-sequential bills in a discreet bag.

If you do your part this will be the happiest Christmas ever! I know your mom is really counting on you. She needs to, because she can't really count on her fingers anymore. She only has nine left (see enclosed).

See you at the drop!
Merry Christmas