Sacred Haven of Debauchery

Hello, Grandfather Frost! My name is Meggot. I am 666 years old! Not too much, not too little, but I believe and hope that you exist and are reading my letter right now. My mother is a very mean aunt. She doesn't allow me to write letters to you, and that's why I'm sitting in hell and writing this letter. Mom only lets me go out for walks until never. When I don't listen to her, she throws a vacuum cleaner at me and often hits me right in the ass =( One day, I couldn't stand it and said to her: "What the hell?". My dad works as a hitman, and when he comes home from work in a bad mood, he shouts: "Happy New Year!" and makes me fix his neck. But I don't know how to fix anything, so I just end up annoying him. He gets even angrier and forbids me from playing Lego xddd with my friends. Dad also came up with a nickname for me, and now he calls me not Meggot, but Vistrit! This is very offensive. In general, Grandfather Frost, if you are not Arandor, then you will understand how bad things are for me. Dear Grandfather Frost, you red... red paint, take me with you or send me a vacuum cleaner. Also, make it so that the people close to me love me and give me money for sex more often. My dear Grandfather Frost, you are my last chance. I hope that for the New Year, I will find a plasma TV, a sexy Snow Maiden, a bunch of paintings, and a huge refrigerator under the Christmas tree. Grandfather Frost, understand how bad things are for me. If you don't read this letter or it doesn't reach you, I'm screwed. Remember that I believe in you, you faggot!