Filled with fear and panic, you look for something to turn into. You turn into a picture hanging on the fireplace—maybe you’ll get a good view of Santa sticking his dirty little hands in the stockings filled with glass! With a thought, you’re there.
You wait for a few moments, anticipation building. That fat guy won’t know what hit hi—
CRASH!
The fireplace explodes into pieces, sending you flying! You hit the wall near the kitchen. You’re dazed, but you landed in a position where you can see the room. It looks like Santa has arrived, and the fireplace simply could not hold his power. The fireplace is gone, and in the debris stands the Holly Jolly man himself.
He’s frightening—a tall, strong silhouette with the flaming debris lit behind him. One might think he was fat, but you know better. That big round belly? All abs, all muscle. Maybe from all that ho ho ho-ing.
You see him glance over at a table, where the milk is empty and the cookies were eaten. Maybe that wasn’t such a good idea, you think regretfully.
“WHERE ARE MY MILK AND COOKIES, YOU LITTLE SHIT? That was VERY, VERY... NAUGHTY!!!!” Santa bellows, flashing forward with inhuman speed, directly toward you!
In your fear, you pee a little and lose hold of your transformation, turning back into your true form. Santa is there and grabs you by the throat, picking you off the ground.
“Spunk,” Santa says softly, with a mix of sadness and kindness in his eyes, “how many years have we gone through this? Hundreds? Thousands? More? How many more will we need to do this before you can break the chains of your father and stop being so evil? I KNOW you have goodness in you, yet every year, you’re on the naughty list.”
You have no answer. Your eyes drift down to see Santa’s Special Spank Stick, and you know pain is coming. You’re too scared to focus.
“It’s the most wonderful time of the year,” Santa says. “But maybe… not for you.”
You hear a swish and crack, pain fills you, and you know Christmas has come.