The True Story of Christmas

A Jolly Reunion

DEATH the deadly devils sing

Congrats to the newest killer

War in heaven and evil spread

It took Nick four hours to fly south to the South Pole. FOUR HOURS! You do NOT understand how long that is in 7-year-old-murderer time. It took him four hours!

And that board on on the stable wall said those blasted reindeer could supposedly fly around the world stopping at every house with a nice kid in it and give them presents in just 15h. How hard could it be to get to the other side of the world a bit faster?

Nick ate some cupcakes, got drunk on beer, but sobered up once he almost spilt poison on himself after singing death songs and trying to juggle vials of poison unsuccessfully. But luckily, it spilt on a reindeer. The reindeer died, and fell into the forest with a loud crash, but Nick couldn't care less. It was just a dirty, dysfunctional animal. But perhaps the missing reindeer was why it took so long to cross poles.

Barely days had passed by since Nick killed that old man, and he was already turning into somebody his parents would definitely not approve of. He killed a man for heavens sake! And then he moved into a dead man's house for a nearly a week! A man that he had killed with no hesitation. No guilt. And no remorse. 

And the stables also said they almost perfected the firework system in the sleigh that spelt out cheery messages in the sky. And they almost found and hired enough elves to make all the toys in time, whatever that meant. 

It also had a part that said something about filling socks up with coal, and Nick like the sound of that. It sounded like an amazing idea, an awesome prank to unsuspecting children! Imagine some little-miss-perfect getting soot and black smudges on her once perfect self when she takes those socks out of her perfect little sock drawer!

When Nick stepped out of the sleigh, taking his first steps on Antarctica, he felt a burst of dominance flood through him. He felt as if, well, he ruled the world. It was just a feeling he felt he couldn't explain. But he loved it.

He saw a small cottage, which resembled a much less impressive version of the home the jolly old man had dwelled in before Nick stabbed him. But it was older and quite humble, with bits of paint chipping off the walls. The dead man's cottage was much more inviting and homely, as well as bigger, newer, and more stylish.

Nick decided to just kill whoever was in there and and stay there for a while, before finding and killing that mediocre killer who had the nerve to challenge him like that. Easy peasy lemon squeezy, right?

Nick walked up the snowy brick path that led to the cottage, not a trace of nervousness anywhere inside him. The pressure of the cold metal knife Noel's killer had dropped felt comforting, and he was ready to up his total number of murders. If he had to be honest, he was actually looking forward to killing another person, and prove himself as a good assassin. 

Without warning, the door of the cottage swiftly flew open, revealing the resident inside.