Either that or embark on a lifetime of solitude delivering presents for people who don’t think you’re real until one day someone forgets to put out the fire and you die an agonizing death so that another poor child can find your body and continue the tragic cycle.
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He didn’t burn to death because my parents didn’t put out the fire. He burned to death because his dumbass decided to come down a chimney despite the fact that smoke is coming out of it. I’d probably be like “moooooooooom he’s real but he’s messed up real bad!” and call 911.