| 2 people marked this as a favorite. |
Puffing and panting, the man in the big red coat looks once more over his shoulder. "I... must... have lost... them by... now," he wheezes to no-one in particular. The sand storm had been blowing for over an hour now, and the heat was making his rosy cheeks stand out red against his flowing white beard.
"Not even close," comes the cold reply that he wasn't looking for. The man in red's blood freezes. Standing before him is a captain of the Pure Legion, adorned plate mail and holding a vicious unholy sword in his hands.
"You... you cannot stop me!" he yells, "Christmas is more than... more than just me!"
"You picked the wrong country to practice your religion, Saint Nicholas," sneers the voice, "I don't care what time of year it is. You and your kind have no place in Rahadoum."
"But the children!" cries Saint Nicholas, "They still believe!"
"Then they shall be punished."
"No!" screams Saint Nicholas, "I decide who is naughty and nice!" With that, Saint Nicholas begins a spell, a spell that is heresy in this Godless realm. "Come Dasher! Come Dancer! Come Prancer and Vixen! Come Comet! Come Cupid! Come Donner and Blitzen!"
In a flash of light, eight flying caribou descend from the skies to strike out one by one at the armored enforcer. They bludgeon and gore him with their antlers, denting his armor and bruising his face. As Saint Nicholas clambers into the sleigh the creatures are towing, he turns with a victorious and mocking smile at the barely conscious captain.
"Ho, ho, ho!" he laughs in a voice devoid of humor, "Merry Christmas!"