12th day of Christmas: Finale
By Sir Wintrust - Published 2019-12-24
I am Cold. I am Alone. I am Empty. I am Nothing. I am lucid. I am flying. I am armed. I am going to kill Santa. It takes effort to think. To fabricate our needs is hard, and our brains are tired. We see each other, and Dr Yamok pulls out our communal rocket launcher, before thinking better of it. Yamok remembered the [CENSORED FOR STORY PURPOSES], A dreamcatcher. With it, We can pull ourselves into reality. We are in a waking dream. We see the tent camp around us, but the stars above are implanted in the snow. We see our bodies, limp in dream. We leave our tents just to perceive the Aurora borealis, dancing in the green light. We look to the horizon and notice the horizon is gone. Where the world should continue on, pillars of fire shot up from the ground. Half of the pillars are tilted green and their tips join up with the northern lights. The other half burn with red fire that seems to tint the snow red. Our yellow lantern-light gives us sanctuary against the encroaching red fire-light. We are all outside, and then we spot it. From outside the ring of fire we hear a holly-jolly chuckle that fills us with fear.It fuels the entirety of the sounds in the imaginary demiplane. It had a low rumble that we felt deep in our hearts. We shook with terror instilled by his load and ethereal voice. His sleigh flew overhead, with his voice going “Ho ho ho” maniacally with murderous intent. The sleigh was as big as a skyscraper, and each reindeer had the eyes of the devil himself. They had a fiery soul and were breathing fire at the ice. He dropped the first present. Our came a small green infantryman, who quickly charged our position. We grappled him, but once he was tied up he disappeared into red and green dust. Then the orninants started to fall. Red and green orbs fell and detonated. We had to duck and dodge, but we had gotten used to the dream world. We pointed our signature bazooka upwards and fired blindly. The shot went wide but it forced the sleigh to pull away. We had a quick respite from the onslaught. We prepared a volley of anti-aircraft fire. With a whip and a bang we gave ourselves more time. We held our line against Santa’s next run. He fired a Missile Toe weakly in our general direction. It was enough to knock us off our feet. Gerald Fitz activated his detonators, sending hundred foot pillars of ice-water and snow. It obscured vision and interrupted Santa’s path. He turned off his pursuit. We thought we may have beat the monster, once and for all. We were wrong. The giant hulking form of Santa sat on the edge of our universe. He reached his hands out and cut through the Aurora Borealis. With the snow clearing, we saw his monstrous face. As big as a mountain and as fearsome as a koala with rabies. His face was infested with holiday cheer. We approached, shacking in our boots. The monster spoke. He spoke of holly jolly times and holiday cheer. His sickening form twitched and contorted as he spoke, with the rest of the universe contorting with him. Space became neither constant nor coherent. The world twisted and shook as the words left his mouth. His infernal tongue convulsed and his beard bulged and retracted rhythmically. His breath was ice and his glare was fire. Santa raised his arm just to then smash it down with a mighty wham. It sent cracks in the ice screaming towards us. We dodged the cracks just in time for a giant candy cane to come from Santa. We were all able to avoid it. Sir Wintrust charged in with a longsword, running along the candy cane. He jumped on Santa, which distracted him momentarily. While he was distracted, Dr Yamok fired a harpoon gun, pinning Santa’s blood red suit to the ice. Sir Wintrust climbed up onto Santa’s hat, causing the great beast to tilt his head skywards. Gerald Fitz saw the opening near Santa’s mouth, and he fired a bazooka. The first shot missed, but Gerald Fitz has more than one bazooka. The 2nd shot bounced right into the mouth of the beast. With that perfect shot, he gave the signal to jump. Sir Wintrust leaped from the great beasts jingling hat to be caught by a combination of Gerald Fitz, Gerald Fitz’s least important organs, and the soft-white snow. Everyone paused for a moment as we saw the beast slowly sink into the ethereal water, and disappear forever. After a moment, we woke up
Santa’s factory was ransacked. Santa was arrested. Santa’s lab was sunk. The spirit of christmas is but a faint memory. We sit back and admire our absolute victory. Our complete and total domination of christmas was secure. Santa was locked away forever and not coming back. No more jingle bells. No more toys. No more coal. Our christmas wishes really came true. We returned to our offices, knowing santa would not be around. We all retired to our homes knowing that x-mas was as dead as can be. Then we realised. The presents under the tree were placed by humans. Even without the spirit of christmas, they still follow their traditions and christmas is still done. But we still won, and for now, that's all that mattered. We drank hot chocolate and sand carols into the night, before we retired to our beds with only one question left unanswered, how is it still christmas day?
