One Little Spark of Christmas

Krampus

        The altered Santa clenched his hand into a fist, signaling his monsters to begin to do their dirty work. The toy robots opened fire with their weapons directed at the toy machines, shattering their top halves into broken glass and pulled-off white balls of stuffing. The remaining scrap metal would be pounded down flat by the heavy feet of the savage teddy bear and doll creatures. The wreath bats took to the skies just below the ceiling the entire workshop, swooping down over every one of the elves and Santas they would get to and then snatching them one by one with their elongated holly leaf arms. The intent was to pull them in close enough to the wreaths' mouths and tie them up in-between like a rope.

          Screams have rung and echoed ever so loudly from everyone, rousing them all in a state of panic. But with the inner will to fight back Krampus' minions, the brave Algar had flown off from behind his creator to face off in combat against the half-bitten gingerbread men. The cookies threw their sharpened candy cane spears towards the gryphon's face, but Algar had caught them all in his beak and spit them back like missiles. Any moment Algar had flown close enough to the ground to where the gingerbreads would easily catch him, he snapped his bird-like jaws at his foes, biting off their bodies to the last crumb. What was left of the gingerbread battalion were the linings of leftover icing smeared across the face of Algar's smirking beak.

          On Figment's end, he flees from behind his two human companions back into the dining room with a squad of killer Jack-in-the-boxes chasing behind him. His big yellow eyes grew wider with a fright, so desperate to get away from these mean looking toys. Not a moment's peace was coming by without the evil cackling of these twisted clowns jumping towards the little dragon on their springing boxes. Their eyes fixated on Figment alone, who did his best to hide behind one of the turned-over tables like a fort. They surrounded him, nudged closer with their shadows towering over their victim, ready to take a bite out of them. Figment searched the interior of his fort for anything he could fight them off with, but all there was inside were piles of the ruined masterpieces of the feast they had just eaten prior to this battle. Glops of cranberry sauces spotted the floors, pieces of ham and turkey were scattered in bits, and small mountains of mashed potatoes were all spilled around him. It seemed hopeless, but just as he was about to call it quits, Figment had come up with a plan. The Jack-in-the-box monsters had readied themselves to pounce over the fort when suddenly, Figment had risen up from behind the tables with a silver spoon in his hands and a bag made with tied-up napkins filled with the pieces of food scrap inside.

"Who's hungry?" Figment bravely cried at the Jacks.

          He scooped a spoonful of the scraps and flung them straight at the Jack-in-the-boxes like a slingshot, splattering their faces with the potatoes to blind their vision. The toys would slip and fall from the cranberry sauce that had been flung to the floor. And finally, the meats were shot right into their jagged-tooth mouths, for Figment hoped that while it may satisfy their appetite it would also choke them. The bad toys don't have human lungs. By the time Figment had run out of scraps, four out of the six Jack-in-the-boxes had been taken out while the remaining two managed to avoid his tiny food catapult. But they were not as quick to avoid Figment's tail, bashing them against the wall with their longed springy wires twisted up, their faces totally discombobulated, and their bodies mushed into the mess of the once delicious Christmas dinner.

          This had left Dreamfinder and Rachel on their own to face the maniacal toy army by themselves. The Dreamfinder, who had let go of his lady fair with the excited determination to help whoever else he could, ran towards the tin toy robots attacking the toy machines, conjuring a dream-made club from his mind into his hands and struck every last robot in sight, bashing every bit of their clockwork into scrap metal. WHACK! SMACK! POW! The robots were sent flying into the air across the workshop, having some of them land onto the flying bat wreaths that were hovering over the elves and Santas they were about to catch. At Dreamfinder's feet, the robots had stopped destroying the toy machines and went after their foe. They raised their whirling buzzsaws and hammers and taser guns, pointing them directly at Dreamfinder. About thirty of them, at least, had surrounded them and even though Dreamfinder was a lot bigger than they were, there was no doubt that they would be able to overwhelm him in defeat.