Tuesday, December 22, 2009

Santa on the prowl

Santa has had a bad hair day. He has quarreled with his wife, quarreled with his wife yet again. Actually, this is practically an ongoing thing, and the missus is quite pissed off at him. One of his reindeers has a bad toe and is on sick leave, and must stay at home. His sleight gets fewer reindeer powers. But the sleight is still no slouch. Santa stamps on the gas. The missus has left home without him tonight, and left him with the stinking reindeers, and Santa is in a very bad mood.

He has moved around aimlessly for a while when he realizes that the house the missus is visiting is right up the alley. The reindeer howls as he cut the next corner, to the big, bright lit house at the end of the road. He stops the sleight so abruptly that the animals grunt and shit hot shit. The sound of christmas carols reaches his ears, and a happy smile brightens his face. He twists a bit in his seat and grabs his flamethrower and the two semiautomatic guns. The final preparations don’t take long. He has already loaded the guns. The flamethrower is also ready for action. He throws his tools across the shoulders and sets off towards the house at the top of the hill. Slightly out of breath he can finally stop in front of the door and ring the bell. An older gentleman opens the door.

- Santa lends a hand, Santa Clause cries.

- You are early, the old gentleman says happily. – Come in, come in.

- Oh, yes, Santa says, also in a very good mood, - I was done with the last job a lot sooner than expected, so I…

But the older gentleman has already walked back inside and left the door open. Santa chuckles wickedly and jumps inside. He produces both weapons. A little girl comes running.

- Santa, she cries. – SANTA IS HERE

He pulls the trigger and hits her right in the middle of her happy grin. The thunderous crack makes the walls shake. An older girl turns to run and he shoots her in the back. The missus stands there, before him with a silly expression of extreme surprise on her face. Santa cackles and shoots her right in the open mouth. He fires his weapons in an even flow, hitting someone virtually every time. They go down like felled trees. Howling and whining those still able flee the premises. One of the weapons runs out of ammo. He grabs the flamethrower and begins spraying walls and roasting flesh. In less than a minute the flames are licking the walls everywhere, and one may safely assume that the christmas party is a bust. Santa slips in the blood and guts on the floor. He loses his balance, and as he falls his weapon is jammed between himself and the floor. The final load goes off and blows off his head. The eerie, silly grin on his face remains to the last possible moment. The bullet holes make the mask-like smile look very inspired, almost like a work of art.

Author’s word: This story is completely true, even though the author admittedly took some creative liberties upon bringing the tale to life.

Two more ballads concerning the non-existing king:

Christmas is finally over

Nothing happened - a ballad

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