5th day of Christmas: East Pole
By Sir Wintrust - Published 2019-12-17
We had decided that Santa could not have been in the south pole. We had walked through enough of that frozen land to be certain of it. We had combed every inch of the part of antarctica we went to. So we had to put ourselves in the Red pathogen’s jingling shoes, where would he be? He would not be in the north pole, too much public attention and too obvious. He clearly was not in the south pole so where was he? There are hundreds of countries he could find himself in. He could of aligned himself with any number of dictators. We made a profile on the bringer of presents, and we used this information to narrow our search. He likes colder climates, only leaving his base around the winter, when the temperature is colder. This eliminates Texas and Mexico. We can also deduce he is not in South America because if Texas is hot, and Mexico is hotter, South America has to be burning hot, all the time. We can eliminate the country of Africa, as that nation is as hot as the Sahara desert, because the Sahara desert is completely encompasses Africa. He is not in Australia or Austria, as they do not exist. This narrows it down to Asia, Europe, and North America. Our Ho Ho Hostile target only speaks English, probably, so being that close to all of the European languages probably detours him. By the same logic, he is not in most Asian countries. It does not help that his presents are a violation of Chineese censorship policy. This narrows it to North America. We can rule out Canada(For obvious reasons), leaving us to America as his possible home base. Where would he be in America? He needs close access to presents, and a large manufacturing base for his presents. There is only one real option: Our Holly Jolly prey was hiding at the East pole. And lying exactly on the east pole is a walmart. Checkmate. We found his battleship, now to sink it.
We approached the “Walmart”. It was a fortress in disguise. Behind its concrete and plaster was an impenetrable safehouse with impeccable security. There were guards, toys, shirts, and, if our plan holds true, our righteously dispatched victim. The walmart was built into a much larger compex nicknamed “The Mall“. We did recon on the entrance, guards, and probably agents in disguise. There were cameras and almost certainly hidden traps. The security was tight, but we were better. We put on disguises, and entered. We had to leave most of our tactical gear behind to not arouse suspicion. We took a gander at the glass-studded building we found ourselves inside. It was the perfect Abode for the bringer of toys, it was a monument to capitalism and consumerism. All throughout there were shops and stores, all advertising christmas. There were sales and giveaways and lots and lots of germy little children. There were cars and games and stalls galore. After taking a brief detour at a few cool-looking shops, we made it to the walmart, and just before the entrance we laid eyes on our objective; There was a giant christmas tree. We moved towards it. We saw a fabricated land of ice and now. The elves were in disguise as chronically underpaid teenagers disguised as elves. We say a ginger-bread house made of steel and plastic. A land of fake, inedible candy canes placed in a line. They lead the way on a path through the fake snow. It lead to the throne. We finally made it. Our goal was finally within our reach.
On the throne sat the towering figure. It was an eldritch abomination with unnatural height and inexplicable width. Its dark, empty eyes had a penetratingly dead gaze which shifted from child to child with no soul or conviction. There was a blood red coat with a strong pure white trim. His colossal mass was adorned with cookie crumbs and milk stains. His crackly fingers was skinny to the bone, and it twiched with unholy magic. His long-aged finger had a titanesque gip on a child, who sat perched, helplessly, in his lap. His size hid any number of grotesque features and unholy appendages. He was a meat effigy of consumerism. He had a holly-jolly white beard that stretched on down his bulky chest; his entire form pulsated with evil energy. Atop his head stood a mighty hat, a red, cone-shaped hat with a small white ball on the head. The top was bent and sat to the side. The more we stared at it, the more we felt like it was staring back. With each breath, a small puff of frost came from his mouth. When his mouth is open, you can see at least one layer of teeth, sharpened to kill and rip apart the flesh of the innocent. His frightening presence filled the room, and it was clear to all that he was not a force for good in this world. His negative energy radiated off of him, and it parilized many in the vicinity, but the majority of us we were not dettured. The sight of him was instinctively repulsive, as if our very biological forms new to fear the bearded menace. His very visage filled us with an eternal, unknowable dread. His unnatural smile knew of all the atrocities he committed, it simply did not care. He was such a formidable entity. He is the one who comes in December. He is who sees you when you are sleeping. And knows when you’re awake. He is the end of days. He is Santa Claus.
The sight of that monster nearly sent us mad. We regained our composure as we entered the long line of families who came to give tribute to the King of Christmas. They came bearing children, and cards aplenty. Cheap toys were arranged in a ritualistic manner, clearly feeding his insatiable hunger for power. The wait was agonising. Each minute sent in his vicinity clearly planned to torture us and to detur would be assasins. We walked under candy canes and through fields of fake snow, all under under the artificial light of the mall. We watched as no less than 12 children were ritualistically placed on his lap and communicated with. What sort of satanic deals was he making with these children? His throne was painted in alternating red and white, with a seemingly unending array of giant presents and offerings laid at his feet. It was an almighty throne, fit for god himself. It was finally our turn, after all the wait. This was as close as we have ever gotten to our destination, and our plan was nearing completion. With a deafening “Ho Ho Ho” he began to speak. “Aren’t you a little old for a message from Santa?”. This very fact was incredibly insulting. He was expecting us to be weak and feeble children. If he remain unaware of our motives, we may have the chance to strike. In the time it took for us to have an intense internal monologue, Santa continued by asking “What do you boys want for christmas this year?”. Santa stared at us with his bloodshot eyes, and his stare destroyed our very souls. We responded “All we want for Christmas is… you!”
