It had been a long night, but Santa’s work was almost done. He only needed to visit one more house. It was a house that had been marked NAUGHTY, underlined and in bold red lettering. He had purposely saved it for last.
Giving naughty boys and girls coal did not typically bring Santa any joy. In fact, it upset him. But this house was different. Because, unlike most naughty children, the naughty family in this house knew they were naughty, and they enjoyed it. He was excited to deliver this coal.
“I can picture it now, Jess” Santa had belted to Ms. Claus a few weeks ago over a large mug of mulled wine as he watched the news. “The people in that house. They all just sit around there, thinking ‘How can we be more naughty tomorrow? What naughty thing can we do to hurt the most nice people?’ They make me sick, Jess. Every single one of those naughty bastards.”
That was the night that Santa decided to exact his revenge–to teach this naughty house a real lesson. He would leave them cursed lumps of coal that would rob them of everything they had. “Extreme times call for extreme measures,” he reasoned.
“There it is,” he yelled to the reindeer as they approached, “just ahead–the White House!”
Santa certainly never made a grand entrance, but he wanted to be especially discrete here. The curse in the coal would not be activated until the coal was dropped into each Naughty stocking. An adorable run-in with a cookie wielding child or an adult who had stopped believing in Santa could totally throw off the mission.
Once the sleigh had landed, Santa made his way down a chimney–the one furthest from the President’s bedroom. If his intel was correct, the tree and stockings were just down the hall from this fire place, in the Blue Room. He made his way over, quietly. As he walked down the hall, he could hear the faint sound of Tchaikovsky’s “Swan Lake” from afar. Santa stopped in his tracks–this was a bad sign. Someone could still be up. “Maybe they fell asleep listening to it,” Santa rationalized. “It’s not like these monsters could really appreciate ballet.” But as he approached the Blue Room, the music got louder. “Stay strong, Nick,” Santa muttered to himself. “You’ve come this far–and they need to learn a lesson. They’re probably all in bed.”
He finally reached the Blue Room. He was prepared to find the stockings, make the drop, and return home to make waffles for Jess before she woke up. But he could not have been prepared for what he was about to witness.
There, in the Blue Room, a small group of people stood in a circle, their hands joined. They were whispering some kind of chant. In the center, there was a man was lying on an altar, his chest and stomach exposed and covered in strange symbols and designs. Santa had never seen anything quite like it. But after recovering from his initial shock, Santa began to recognize these people. There, at one end of the circle, was Melania. Naughty. Then, next to her, that was Jared and Ivanka. Also naughty. On the other side of the circle stood Donald Jr. and Sarah Huckabee Sanders. Super naughty! But there, in the center, on the altar, was the naughtiest of them all: Donnie.
Just behind this scene, Santa could see the stockings. They were clearly labelled and ready to receive some cursed coal. He hid behind a vase filled with bare, white branches, hoping to go unnoticed, until the meeting had concluded. He was determined to get to those stockings.
But the chanting and the music grew louder, until they were almost deafening. Then suddenly Donnie, still lying on the altar, began to twitch and convulse in a horrifying display. Green slime began to pour from his nose and ears, and large talons began to pierce through his finger tips. Santa had to muffle a scream.
And then came the grand finale. Shimmering purple tentacles burst forth from Donnie’s chest and stomach and shot out towards the ceiling. The people that had been surrounding Donnie suddenly fell to their knees. “Our savior is born,” they began to wail. The tentacles were multiplying, and began to curl themselves around Donnie’s devotees, wrapping around their limbs and slithering into their ears and nostrils.
Tears were streaming down Santa’s face. He wanted to escape but he was stuck in place, transfixed by the horror unfolding in front of him.
Suddenly, a voice that Santa could not place, a voice with no clear source, boomed throughout the room. “There is an intruder among us” it boomed. “Eliminate him!” Santa knew he had to flee, but as he turned to make his exit the door behind him slammed shut. Everyone in the room turned around. Soon, Santa could feel their eyes locked on him. “All right, coal,” he whispered as he readied his weapon, “let’s see what you can do.”
***
It was almost time for Christmas Cocktails and Nick still wasn’t home. “This isn’t like him,” Jess thought. “I hope everything is okay.” On a typical Christmas day, Nick would wake her early in the morning with a stack of waffles and mimosas. They would eat and drink until they passed out in bed to spend the rest of the afternoon snugglin. They called this the “annual unwinding ritual.”
Just as she began to seriously doubt Nick’s safety, Jess saw his sleigh coming in for its landing. Her heart began to beat through her chest with anticipation. He was back!
But something was wrong. The reindeer were not flying in a straight path. Presents and cookies were careening out of the sleigh. As they began to make their landing, she ran out to the runway to meet them.
“Nick,” she shouted, “Nick! Where have you been?!” But before she even made it to the sleigh she stopped dead in her tracks. It was empty. Nick was not there.
Rudolph freed himself from the sleigh, panic in his eyes, “Jess,” he cried, “Jess! There was an incident, something’s happened! Nick didn’t make it.”
Trumptasia 