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santa
This story is about Timmy, a nine year old, hopeful little boy. Just last Christmas, Timmy had asked for a pony. Much to his dismay, Christmas morning came and not a pony in sight.

The other gifts had softened the grief; but the pony remained in the back of his mind. The weeks following Christmas found Timmy in deep contemplation. He wondered what he had done to lose the right to a pony. Timmy decided that he must be very careful, and resolved that each day throughout the following year would be spent doing good in the eyes of Santa.

Summer found its way past Spring, and Fall was not far behind. Before he knew it, Christmas was here. The careful planning, the good cheer he gave, there was nothing stopping Timmy this year.

‘Twas the night before Christmas and all through the house, not a body was stirring, not even a mouse. Except Timmy, who was busy preparing for the return of Santa. The cookies and milk were set on a chair by the fireplace. The lights from the tree cast a soft colored glow.

Stepping back from his work Timmy reviewed, and decided his preparations would have to do.

With everything set, Timmy crept up the stairs, his blanky and pillow set out for his wait. Situating just so, that he could survey the room below. Timmy bided his time and waited for St. Nick.

Lost in the sounds of the crackling fire, Timmy soon drifted into a sleep. It was in this time that there truly was no stirring about, no, not even a mouse.

Timmy’s eyes fluttered open his body tense; what was that? Surely a noise.

Peering through the darkness Timmy saw the undeniable silhouette of dear old Santa Claus. Who himself was bent over in pain; he had stubbed his shin and was silently cursing his fumble.

In the middle of the room sat a large red bag; presents, bundles, and brightly colored toys, but nothing that whinnied, not a pony in sight.

Timmy’s blood boiled, he felt his face become flush. Timmy hoped it would not come to this, but he was prepared. He steadied himself and rose to his feet, pulling from his waistband a sharp cleaver knife.

Santa was busy moving presents about. Out of his view the danger crept closer, Timmy with his knife took each step slowly. He had not taken but a few steps when from the corner of his eye, he glimpsed a furry hide. Timmy heart leapt in his chest, was this his pony? Had he acted too quickly, hastily passing judgment?

Timmy peered intently at this unknown entity. It was something alive, this was certain as it shuffled keeping itself in the shadows. Just then a car passed outside. The light briefly cast across the room.

Timmy gasped; he could not believe what he was seeing. Crouched in the hallway was the Easter Bunny. The Easter Bunny was much larger than he had ever imagined. Easily as large as a bear.

“What an idiot!” Timmy thought. “How do you mistake the Easter Bunny for a pony?”

Just then the Easter Bunny leapt from its shadowed hiding place, shattering a clay garden gnome in the hallway.

Santa reacted quickly, moving with a fluid motion, surprising for his weight. From within his red suit Santa withdrew two .50 Cal Desert Eagle pistols. The guns shimmered in the light of the fire.

This all happened so quickly, Timmy did not have a chance to react. Without missing a beat Santa let loose two rounds from each of the massive pistols. Only one of these bullets hit the intended target, ripping through Easter Bunnies hind quarters, causing the Easter Bunny to spin off into the corner.

Timmy heard a blood curdling scream, and realized it was coming from his gaping mouth. One of the rounds fired off by Santa had hit him in the shoulder, effectively removing his arm. Luckily the cleaver was held by the opposite arm, which was still attached and fully functional.

Santa seemed genuinely horrified that he had unintentionally hit Timmy. However, Timmy’s natural response did not leave much room for error on Santa’s part. Timmy raised the cleaver above his head, and ran full tilt toward Santa, continuing with his blood curdling scream.

Santa didn’t want to, but he knew there was no other way. He carefully squeezed off a well placed shot that landed squarely in little Timmy’s left hip. The impact of the bullet caused the cleaver to fly wildly from Timmy’s hand, glancing off Santa, causing just a nick in the arm.

The Easter Bunny seeing an opportunity leapt once again toward Santa. This time sinking his teeth deep into Santa’s neck. Santa let out a howl of pain, but it was too late, the Easter Bunny’s happy potion had already overtaken Santa. Who plopped down on the floor with a giddy squeal and bubbly laughter.

Timmy’s father appeared at the top of the stairs. He had heard the shots, and carried with him his hunting rifle. The scene below struck terror in his heart. His son lay in a pool of his own blood, glimmering in the firelight. He felt a surge of rage, and brought his rifle to bare. He only fired twice, one striking the Easter Bunny just behind the ear; the other hit Santa square in the chest.

Unfortunately these events took place just this morning. As a result there will be no Christmas or Easter in the future years. We hope that Santa was able to make it to your home. If so, enjoy this Christmas day and savor the lingering moments, for they are the last you’ll ever have.

A funeral procession will be held on December 31st at the North Pole. Attendance is by invitation only.

Mrs. Claus is pressing charges against Timmy’s father, who is suing the parent company of both Christmas and Easter. Claiming their mascots should never have been let out into public. He is also starting a non-profit organization which will organize hunting parties into the North Pole in an effort to terminate all remaining assets of Santa and co. Mrs. Claus is obviously concerned and has already begun migrating the elves and what they can of the workshops into an underground lair.

Title image used with permission (non-commercial use) and courtesy of Gary V. Annett, check out the original here.

Read it in the bathroom! Print It! Read it in the bathroom! Print It!

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