Dear Ms. Hollowfox,

Your gifts -- which were as expensive as journal subscriptions and as expansive as Charles Aimee Cutter's classification scheme -- were burned when the outhouse caught fire and it spread to Warehouse Number 3, where your gifts were stored.

Everything was a complete loss, but we will start over as soon as we catch those elves that left the fire suppression system be used as a giant distillery.

Do not fret, dearie. Thecla will come through for you.

Sincerely yours,
/s/
Thecla (Mrs. Santa) Claus