2nd day of Christmas: Lets Kill Santa
By Sir Wintrust And Gerald Fitz - Published 2019-12-14
We have to kill Santa, for the sake of everything good and just.
Our strategy begins with the perfect trap. We bought 23 AT-8 landmines and put them on the roofs on all other buildings in our town. We built 8 PROM-1 landmines and placed them all across our office and under our communal x-mas tree. Our tree was flooded with acetone, and our rug was full of “enough” gasoline. We prepared ourselves with rifles, chainguns and rocket launchers. The under-chimney bear trap was armed and ready. We filled the chimney with spikes, acid and acidic spikes. We had our naval cannons armed and ready. The Huntington Post went to Def-con 2: we were all on full alert. We had fog machines to bait our prey into using Rudolf, and we had laser-seeking missiles to target rudolph's nose. We set up sets of cameras. It was 24/7, backed-up to the “cloud”(The servers we store in our blimp). If Bob asks where payroll went, say you don’t know. We were all watching the house and the surrounding area, and our radars were scanning. The radar was silent. We waited in silence, the warmth of the various flamethrowers heating our cold dead hearts
Twas the night before Christmas, and all through the office, all the creatures were stirring, it looked like a fortress. Each rocket was armed with a deadly warhead. In hopes that St Nickolas would soon be much dead. The writers were nestled all snug in emplacements; With hopes that Santa’s limbs would be stuffed in their basements. And us in our places with a gun in each arm, We settled down ready to cause harm. When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter, We sprang from the trap to see what was the matter. Away to the missiles we flew like a flash, Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash. But nothing was there, it was a false alarm. We sat again, ready and armed. But nothing came that cold winter night, and we had yet to give Santa a fright. There was only the smell of some thyme, and another completely insufferable rhyme. We waited and waited, and waited some more. We waited hours, we waited till four. There were no signs of any jolly mistro, or reindeer on sleigh. It would appear that we have lost our prey.
Once the inexplicable rhyming had ceased, we assessed the tactical outcome of the situation. The poisoned cookies were uneaten. The expired milk was untouched. Our stockings were devoid of coal and not a single trap had triggered. It would appear Santa had tactically decided to avoid our building. It was a sad Christmas morning, and we had to return most of our landmines.
The plan continued with a more direct and aerial approach. We “acquired” a Cessna 172. We modified it to suit our purposes, adding two browning machine guns we “found” at a military installation. It launched from a makeshift runway(IKEA's roof), and it flew 4.3 miles, before we got a detection. An unidentified object over Old Mexico. We got within 2 miles before visual contact was established. To our surprise, it was not our target! It was a [CENSORED BY ORDER OF THE PENTAGON]. We chased it down, following it closely in our Cessna. It was able to [CENSORED BY ORDER OF THE OCTAGON] , which made it much harder to follow. We managed to hit it with one of its own [CENSORED BY ORDER OF THE DEPARTMENT OF EDUCATION], knocking it out of the sky. It smoked and flew sporadically before crash landing in the desert. Inside [CENSORED BY ORDER OF THE DEPARTMENT OF AGRICULTURE]. Eventually, the [CENSORED BY DEPARTMENT OF VOLDEMORT] stepped in and took away the [CENSORED FOR NATIONAL SECURITY]. While we did not kill Saint Nicholas, we were hot on his candy-cane coated trail. We took the [CENSORED FOR STORY PURPOSES] and learned how to use it, it will come in use later.
We decided that we could not wait for the slightly obese bringer of Christmas to come to us, we had to come to him. We chartered a ship to bring us to the ring around the world: Antarctica. We went south, because going north is what he’d expect us to do. But we quickly realized an issue; Not enough soda. We didn’t know were he was, well, Tim claimed he knew where Santa was, but we didn’t listen, because no one likes Tim. So we had to find another way to locate Mr jolly, his workshop, his sleigh or his reindeer. If we can find one of these, we can set a trap, or better, find ol’ Kris Kringle himself. So the Huntpost team split up. Gerald Fitz would take the reindeer, Dr Yamok would take the sleigh, and everyone else would try to locate the workshop.
