Today you’re going to go downstairs to find Santa Claus in your living room, holding his trusty sack.
“Santa?” you’ll say. “It’s not Christmas.”
“So?” Santa will ask. He’ll pull a bat out of his bag and wave it at you.
“So I don’t like you being here when it’s not Christmas,” you’ll say, picking up the fireplace poker.
Santa will swing the bat at your head and miss. You’ll land the fireplace poker right in his skull. He’ll drop to his knees and blood will pour from his mouth onto his beard. You’ll tug the poker out of his skull and just to be sure you’ll bring it down again, even harder this time. The life will go out of his eyes.
When your wife and kids wake up they’ll be angry that you killed Santa, but you’ll explain that it was kill or be killed.
“We never speak of this,” you’ll say to them. “When no one gets any presents this Christmas, you make like you’re just as surprised as everyone else.”
Your wife and kids agree. Then you drag Santa down into the basement to hack his body apart. You’ll bury him out in the mud fields near the bottling plant.
Happy Santa Claus Day!
