Dear, Dearest Santa

Dear, Dearest Santa

by Spöken Wolv

***
Tags: Fat dragon milf Santa, a lot of stuttering, slapstick, twenty cakes, cakes being used as construction material, Krampus being a ranty bitch, ONE girl, ONE dad, ONE herd of five ponies, ONE happy ending (?)
***

'Twas the night of Christmas and at the house at the end of Willow avenue, a little girl laid hidden in a blanket under the Christmas tree. This year, her dad had bought a really big tree and all she had to do was to bring a blanket from her room and hide it under the thick foliage. It was nearly midnight and with all the lights out, no one would be able to see her hiding in wait.

This night, Amelie's father had personally tucked her in the bed and told the girl to behave so Santa could "bring her a really neat gift". Now, she was old enough to know that it was her dad that gave her Christmas presents and all, but ever since a very young age, she had noticed something strange whenever she it was the time to open her presents. Every year, there was this one present under the tree that stood out – usually because it was pretty crude in its making – a wooden ballerina made of sticks in a rock stand, a doll with somewhat disjointed limbs sewed-up from mismatching fabrics, a small mirror framed by seashells and semi-precious stones. Despite of their crudeness, Amelie was fond of those presents and how cute they were (in a disturbingly creepy way), but there was something... remarkably odd about them. Whenever she questioned her dad about them, he would become all weird. The adult would stare at whatever she had on her hands with hazy eyes for some long seconds like in a trance. After a while, he would snap and shake his head like a boy that just woke up from daydreaming and then, in a stiff voice, he would proceed to tell her he had "just remembered" the present was bought at a discount store or that one Amelie's friends had gifted it to her – always a different story. There was something spooky about how robotic his voice would sound like and she learned to not pry at it, since her father would just repeat everything again like a broken record.

One time, she got a stuffed taxidermy fox with a wooden rifle. The thing was an absurdly strange gift for a girl of her age, but all her father did was to repeat "yOur fRiend maDe IT" over and over and over again, until his voice reached a screeching pitch and she became scared enough to stop with all the questioning. That night, she had a nightmare and wet her pants.

Then, last year... something bizarre had happened.

In July, her father had decided to take down the old derelict chimney from their home and exchange it with an industrial one made of metal with a thin, sleek tube. Nothing worth of note happened through the rest of the year and the thing seemed to work properly. But at the night of Christmas, both parent and daughter were woken by the sound of something exploding.

The fireplace was in shambles, bricks had flied with such force that some were stuck in the plywood walls of the cheap American house and others had went all the way over to to the kitchen, some bricks laying inside of the sink. Everything had been covered in sooth and the Christmas tree was literally on fire. Thankfully, due to some Christmas miracle her dad was quick enough and able to extinguish it with the eggnog that had been left from dinner. Upon checking outside, what was barely left of the chimney had became thin, curled stripes of burnt metal. Her dad sued the manufacturers and got some pretty sweet bucks. Unfortunately, he had become paranoid and distrustful of industrialized chimneys and so, he hired a mason to build a new one made of bricks. In the next family dinner, he became drunk and ranted about how it was better to stick with the old traditions, saying something about "the merchants of capitalism" ripping off money from honest people.

There was one thing, though. Amelie never told her dad, but in the day after the explosion, she had checked under the charred remains of the Christmas tree and found one package soaking wet with water. Opening it, she found what seemed to be a half melted crown made of ice and a piece of paper hastily scribbled with charcoal – blurred, crude, childish letters that spelled "iaM So soRi plS fORGibe meH  :(  :("

Now, Amelie was a very smart girl – and that's mostly because her father forced her to play Wizardry 2 when she was just 9 years old – so she instantly understood what had happened. Obviously, there was a REAL Santa Claus, the one that gave her weird gifts every year and because her father had installed a very narrow chimney, Santa's fat, round gut got stuck on it. The poor, old man had become trapped for who knows how long inside of a claustrophobic narrow tomb and so, he was left with no choice but to force his way out, scared of his imminent demise. Her dad careless bad choice of a chimney had nearly killed Santa Claus and put an end at Christmas. Forever.

Well, they had a new chimney now – but – at second glance it wasn't as wide as the old one, so what if because of it, Santa got stuck again? That simply wouldn't do! And so, for the next entire year the little girl could barely wait, ecstatic with her plan to see Santa for herself and help him to get unstuck his fat centuries-old butt from a cramped chimney.

***

Amelie woke up groggy to a weird sound. At first, she dissed it as the wind howling, but then remembered what this night was. For a couple minutes she listened with ears wide open, until she heard it again – something spectral that sounded like "ooooAaAaaWaaAAawaaaAAaaAh ooooaaaahhh aah AaahH eeeEEEeeehh... ehHHH-EHK" along with strange, rubbery noises like an overfilled balloon being compressed. Amelie's mind was torn between excitement and fear – was Santa stuck inside of the chimney? Should her go and help him? But why did his voice sounded so scary?

Before she was able to make up her mind, she saw something coming out of the fireplace that made her entire body go cold.

Even with the lights out she was able to see – dark, sinewy wisps floating and coiling in the air like they had a life of their own. They were slowly gathering in a sphere at the center of the living room above a small glass table, like a dark spirit from hell being summoned at an altar coming after its offerings (which mostly consisted of a bowl with dried fruits and pine cones from three weeks ago). The "ooOaah's", "aAh's" and "eeH's" became louder, like a diabolical choir of monks reaching the climax, the last verses of an eldritch, forbidden ritual, "WOooooOOAAoooHH OOoohh WoooOOOhh EeeeKH-OO". The wisps finished gathering and the sphere remained still for a couple seconds like a ball of dark yarn, then, with a sudden "WHOMP" expanded tripling in size.

Something huge with a tall, dark frame fell from its center, utterly obliterating the glass table into tiny  shards and the sad dried fruits above it from existence. Rasp, labored breathing that seemed straight out from a nightmare (or more likely, a cathedral pipe organ) reverberated through the room "rrraaAAhhh, aaaHHH, rRrAAAHHHH, rRRRaaaAAwwWWGggg, rrOOOOOoo". Its owner then stood up from crouching, revealing an impossibly huge canopy of dark horns that tore up the ceiling like it was made of wet paper. The creature exhaled a last "nnnUUUOOOooorrhggHH" and then stood still, an apocalyptic, out of this world presence that absorbed and devoured all light in the world.

Amelie's spirit had been completely crushed, warm and sour lemonade staining her bear panties when she finally realized how wrong she was about who had gifted her those crude presents for all those years. It wasn't Santa the one who cherished her innocent soul and brought her joy and laughter every Christmas... no, it was HIM – Satan. And now, the Prince of Darkness, Father of All Lies had came to claim what he was owned by right. The little girl felt like a complete idiot, regretting from ever accepting those cheap presents. She had traded her soul for a bunch of trinkets hastily made in crafting classrooms for kindergartners. Satan had played her – he had played her like a damn fiddle!

Heart about to burst from her small frame, the girl burst in movement in an attempt to escape from the demon. Her attempt was thwarted when the blanket she was hiding under got stuck in a branch, making the Christmas tree collapse atop of her, becoming a prison of bark and garish plastic decorations.

"DADDY! DADDY! HELP! SATAN IS REAL AND HE'S COMING TO EAT MY BUTT!"

In a blur of movement, Satan quickly stomped through the room in the direction of the trapped girl. Over sized paws with fingers like black, metallic claws quickly lifted the tre., Satan then threw it over his shoulder like it weighted nothing. The pine tree broke through the living room's window, tearing the curtains and landing on the front yard, killing a styrofoam snow man on its path. Moonlighted flooded the room and Amelie screamed in terror when she saw two crimson-red pits staring at her.

With all of what was left of her strength, Amelie quickly stood up and ran under Satan's scaly legs, avoiding a huge spiked tail that seemed fit for a dinosaur from Jurassic Park. She had reached the corridor door when a panicked female voice made her stumble and stop on her track.

"P-P-PLEASE! LITTLE ONE! I-I-I'm sorry! S-SORRY! I DDD-DDD-DIDN'T MEANT TO S-SCARE YOU!"

Wait a second, was that right? Was Satan supposed to sound all stuttery and like a middle aged woman? Amelie shook her head, decided to not fall for his tricks. Before she could put her feet into motion, the voice desperately called for her again.

"S-s-SORRY! It's AM! I-I-I mean, i-i-it's I AM! It's me, S-s-s-SANTA!"

Amelie rested her body against the door frame, head leaning on it, heart still beating at erratic pace. Part of her had realized that if the demon was indeed Satan, then, there was nowhere she could hide. The other part wondered if her belly full of overcooked turkey was playing tricks with her mind and she was actually sleeping comfortably on her bed, because, the way the demon spoke made the girl think Satan was more scared of her than Amelie was scared of Satan.

Slowly, very slowly, she turned to look and a burst of primal fear made the little girl almost her jump out of her skin when she noticed how close she was to the creature.

In the middle of the living room stood a being that an expert archaeologist would swear to be a fertility deity from the paleolithic era. Two enormous breasts like overripe melons covered by a thin layer of sweat were undeniable proofs that Satan was actually female. Her pudgy belly showed a clear excess of fat, waist defined by two thick love handles on both sides and yet, somehow, Satan sported a set of abdominal like bricks fit to a pro weightlifter. Her hips were so wide that two adult men would have problems to encircle it with their arms. At a first glance, one would believe her tights belonged, in fact, to an African elephant, so thick that whoever sculpted those had used one – no – TWO scoops full of thickness. Both of her legs ended in absurdly dainty small feet, delicate enough to belong to a Disney princess and not to a (fat) creature that seemed straight out from hell.

"L-little one? I-I'm sorry, I-I promise I will do you no ha-harm! S-sorry! So v-ve-very sorry!!" The creature nervously shook the dinosaur tail from side to side, Amelie was captivated by its movement and how powerful it was, covered by plating as thick as tank armor and lined by blunted spikes as large as Amelie's hands. It was destroying what was left of the living room, pushing the sofa and couch, breaking vases and crushing chairs creating a trail of destruction.

The girl looked up and for her surprise, met two teary red eyes with long dark lashes. Satan's beautiful face was twisted in a desperate look fit to a young preteen child and not a demon, a bit of snot coming out from her button nose, dangling strands of dark hair entering the mouth whenever she opened her lips. Without Amelie noticing, the demon gently put one of her paws on the girl's shoulder. "Sorry..." - Satan whispered, sounding sad and remorseful.

There was something about the creature's eyes... Amelie stood still for a long minute, captivated at how beautiful they were, two red gems that (somehow, despite of tears and snot) exuded a type of kindness that made Satan's disheveled face look (almost) motherly. Finally, the little girl forced herself to shake her head and snap out of the trance.

"Who or what are you?" she snapped, feeling something close to anger.

The creature held both of her paws close to her chest, taken aback by Amelie's tone. Fidgeting she said in a meek voice, "I-I told you... I'm Santa C-Claus. Please... you d-don't need to be scared..."

"Liar! Santa is not a demon – he's an old fat man that got stuck in our chimney last winter and made it explode! I was going to help him out this year but you ruined everything!"

"E-E-E-EX-EXPLODE?! OH! Mmmmn. Oh. Yes, yes. M-mmn. W-well, I see. Well," the demon said, her eyes avoiding Amelie's gaze, bashful like a child caught hand-stuck in the cookie jar "t-those modern chi-chimneys nowadays aren't m-mmmmn, they are not as s-sturdy or durable like the ones from the g-good old days. Mmmmn, yes. B-but you see" - she spruced up, sudden, excited movement making her horns tear new holes on the ceiling "the new one y-your daddy b-built is so really strong, so really sturdy and so really warm and with a hole oh so really w-w-w-wonderfully gaping and oh-oh-OOOooohhhh OH! So WONDERFULLY WIDE! Chimney. So. M-mmmn, yes, a-as you see, this year I ha-had no problem to fit inside of it! Yes!"

"Stop trying to trick me! I KNOW you are Satan, I've read all about you in daddy's mangas! Y-you, you have horns and claws and a tail a-a-and I KNOW you are coming to take my s-soul in exchange for those lame trinkets!"

"Uh-Mmmnnn?! Wha, what? W-who? Where?! I-I'm certainly not a demon and I've n-never h-heard about such p-p-person! L-little one! Can't you see? I-I-I'm dressed like Santa, look! I've got the hat the red cape and, a-and, and, mmmmmnn, ri-ri-ribbons! Lots of them, yes!" Satan (or Santa?) had started to gesticulate wildly with her arms, accidentally breaking a porcelain doll in a table. Amelie took a step back to look at Santa's clothes and instantly regretted doing so, her head becoming red like a tomato in a matter seconds.

In a way (if that could be considered clothing, in the first place), Santa could be compared to a Christmas tree decorated by someone who was definitely drugged with a mind flying so high that it had flied all the way over to Bangladesh and crashed the plane in a disastrous landing with no survivors. Or, most likely, this person was Irish and virgin. There were, simply, satin ribbons everywhere and the worst thing about them is that they covered literally next to nothing. Those were (artistically?) tied to her bust, waist and netters, forming something that resembled a Christmas-y swimsuit that lost miserably in the battle to contain all the over spilled meat from her body. Even the slightest movement or breeze made those thin laces creak like a condemned build on the verge of collapsing. And Lord, Dearest Lord, it didn't stopped there.

Oh, no. Santa/Satan didn't lied about the hat, she indeed had one, but unfortunately, it looked comically out of place on her head, like it belonged to a person seven sizes smaller or a dwarf. Delicate small bells and branches of mistletoe dangled in a confused mess from a canopy of horns fit for a dragon, a canopy so wide that one had to wonder how in the heavens the demon/dragon made them pass through a chimney's opening. They were so absurdly large and garishly overdecorated that Amelie had felt dizzy just from looking.

"Oh! Wait! See, here!" she produced a giant red sack somewhere from her back, forms of all shapes and sizes pressed against its lining. "I-it's the magic sack I use to carry presents for all the g-good children…!" With a burst of inspiration, she added "Y-you could... mmmmnn, yes! You could give a look inside... only if you want to!!"

That was it. Amelie burst running toward the stairs without looking back. Santa/Satan/Demon/Dragon yelped loudly and followed, her huge body tearing apart the corridor's door, the frame left hanging atop of her over sized horns. "W-w-W-Wey-Wai-WAIT!!! LITTLE! ONE! What are you DO-DO-DO-ING?!?!"

Keeping a safe distance between her and the extraneous being, Amelie climbed half of the stairway then turned around to exclaim “LIAR! You just w-w-want to trick me! You are just waiting for a chance  while I look at it so you can kick me inside the sack! Then you are gonna drag me all the way down to hell and then you… y-you are going to eat my butt!

“E-E-E-EAT YOUR BUH-buH-buh-buuuuuuhhh- MMMMnnM! Li-little one! Mmmmnn. Ri-right, I mean, no, no! Y-you got it all wrong, I swear! Please…! Please don’t wake up your daddy be-because if you do-do-do so… if YOu do SO…! IF yOU Do-DO-dOooO soOOoO…!” She lost control of her voice, which became loud and scary all of sudden, like it was coming from a gigantic creature from depths of the earth. The dragon/demon/thing gasped, eyes wide open, quickly using her paws to cover her mouth.

“iF yOU do SO...” She firmly closed her eyes and took deep, laborious breaths to calm herself before finishing in a pitiful, dramatic voice, “If… if… you do so… you will… kill the Christmas spirit...!” Amelie was stricken aback at how serious the creature sounded like. For a pregnant minute, both were silent, girl anf monster staring at each other with wide eyes. Amelie could see how disheveled and desperate it looked and the creature was also… sweating?

“What happens if I… kill it…?” The little girl asked, in a barely audible whisper.

“Oh… oooh… oh my, mmmmnnn… Oh no, no, no, nooooo… so-something te-terrible...! Awful…! The hole, uhmmn, whole planet… no… the whole everything will be in da-danger…!!!”

“What is it?!”

“W-well, mmmnnn, I-I surely don’t want to know! I-I mean, It had never happened before! I’m scared of what might happen even when I’m n-not thinking about it! I know that the death of the Christmas spirit will be the start of something terrible because li-little Krampus was the one that told me so and she is very, very smart! Mmmmnnn, yes!”

The monster was just stalling for time and Amelie knew it. She shot a hard glance towards it before climbing the stairs “Enough! I’m not listening anymore, I’m calling daddy and he’ll shoo you away!”

“L-little one! Your pre-present! If you shoo Santa from your ho-house, I won’t be able to give it to y-you!”

“Oh, right!” Said Amelie, looking down from the second floor banister “How could I forget!? I wonder what will it be, a doll house made of ice cream sticks? A finger painting? A tea set made of play doh? By the way, the ice crown you gave me melted before I could even play with it!”

“M-mmnn… y-you see… I usually d-don’t ask children what they want be-because… I’m so very, very shy and afraid of talking to hu-humans… so I have to make do with m-my own head… i-it’s not like I d-don’t want to give you something fancy, either! I-I can take anything I want from the m-magic sack! I just… just don’t have huhmmmn, much of a imagination...”

“Wait, what about the letters, don’t you get a bunch of them every year?!”

“Oh! Oh. Right. Mmmn, w-well, the mail people are uh, t-they d-don’t usually come all the way over to the North Pole. The young mail l-lad that came to visit last time decades ago ran away screaming when I opened up the d-door… Sometimes people in funny orange clothes with, uhmmn, weird instruments? Come to uhmmmn, appreciate the scenario and me-measure things? Little Krampus usually scares them away with her p-pranks! But! Little one!” said Santa, remembering where she was, “Now that you have m-met Santa in person, you can ask me whatever you want! I’ll give you TWO presents of your cho-choice if you p-promise to be a nice young girl and not wake up your daddy.”

Now, that seemed interesting. Amelie didn’t really believed the monster, but maybe it was worth of a shot. “Two presents? And you can take anything from inside of your magic sack? Anything-anything?”

“W-well,” she used one of her claws to scratch her chin “p-probably?! Mmmnnn. Y-yes?”

“Ok. Yeah. Alright uh, Satan, I mean, S-santa, can you… step back from the door and sit on the couch so I can, uh, I mean, u-uhm, while I go to my room very quickly to change into fresh… clothes…?” Amelie hid her face under the banister and hoped to god Santa wasn’t able to see how red her face was.

“Whu, w-wha? A-are you trying to ru… ruse me, little one? But why – w-wait a second, something DOES smells like lemonade and – Oh! Oh. Mmmnnn. A-alright. Okay. I’ll be a nice Santa and go m-make myself comfortable on your c-comfy couch.”

********

Wearing a fresh pair of panties and bearing renewed courage, Amelie entered the living room. Under better light, she now noticed Santa’s skin color was of a faint blue with a slight tint of green. She immediately felt some degree of relief, mind and body slightly relaxing, since this was solid proof that Santa wasn’t a devil – after all, it was of common knowledge that demons had red skin. Years of reading fantasy books and watching films had made the little girl realize that Santa was mostly definitely a dragon (woman), horns, blue skin, dinosaur tail and all. Most of the stories nowadays told that dragons were actually pretty cool and friendly when you got to know them.

The room had now been drenched in an overpowering smell of freshly dug earth, pine trees and wild flowers that seemed to originate from the dragon sat at the couch. The piece of furniture had been crushed like a defenseless mammal under the apex predator that was Santa’s gigantic butt, the fabric now drenched wet with… body fluids. In the short amount of time spent on the couch, the dragon had ruined it with literal buckets of sweat, there was more than enough water on that couch to save a small African village. “Eww! Santa, why are you sweating so much?”

The dragon sat in a stiff pose, drops of sweat falling from her nervous face “S-sorry! I-I have an in… en-ende… indoctrination… en-endocri...cri…CRI... a-a-a-a SWEATING PROBLEM! It happens whe-whenever I’m feeling nervous… which happens all the time w-when… I need to talk to someone… or when I’m feeling… h-hot. MMNN-NN, hot l-like when I'm inside of a chimney. Mmmnn. Yes...”

Amelie quickly apologized “It’s not like you smell… bad or anything! It’s actually kinda... nice? Like that fancy boutique on the neighborhood selling new age perfume.”

“Oh! Thank you! Little K-Krampus always mention how I probably spared a fortune with no need for deodorants!”

“Right...”

“Mmmn-nn-n.”

Both child and dragon shared an awkward silence. Santa kept fidgeting and throwing nervous sideways glances at the destroyed room, the couch squelching and creaking whenever she moved. Her claws made soft “clangs” whenever they touched each other. Each of her paws had huge and ragged X shaped white marks on both the palm and back. One more Christmas-themed decoration, perhaps?

“A-anyway! Little one, it’s the night of Christmas and I have yet to visit many others…! Time is ticking the byes… So, h-have you decided y-your two presents?”

“Oh, yeah! Daddy always says it’s too expensive, but I guess there’s no problem if I ask Santa since your magic sack can create stuff for free.” Amelie enthusiastically approached Santa, her fears now completely forgotten. “So… my first wish for Christmas is a herd of five ponies!”

“W-wait. Little one, five ponies count as five presents! Like two ponies plus… p-plus four? I can’t g-give you all that! The Christmas spirit! The Christmas spirit, little one! You are putting it in danger!”

Amelie shot back “Don’t be silly, Santa! I’m not asking for FIVE ponies! I’m asking for ONE herd of five ponies! That’s a whole completely different thing! They are… well, daddy told me a herd is like a unity, like a tightly knit circle of pony sisters, so they will just count as ONE present!”

“Is t-that so? Mm-mnnn. A one circle of pony sisters that are p-p-p-pretty... tight. But… but! Wait! You need a stable for your ponies, do you not? Is that your second wish?”

“Hah! No way, I’m sure a stable is way cheaper than five ponies, so daddy probably won’t have a problem with that! He says he doesn’t have money for pets, but he never told me anything about having no money to build a home for them! So I’m sure it will be ok!”

Santa flapped her mouth for a couple seconds, like she was having problem to figure out what was wrong with the child’s wish. Amelie smiled defiantly and the dragon slumped on the couch sweating profusely, defeated by child’s pure undeniable logic.

“Ok… Santa will give you ONE herd of five ponies and not even one pony more. Y-your… your second wish...?”

“I’ve decided to make the best of it so I’m going to wish for something really useful that will help daddy financially, help me to feed those ponies AND also treat myself, all at the same time and without spending a single dime! So, I would like to make one order of twenty cakes as my second present.”

“T-T-TU-TWFFEENNY KEKIS?! OWIE!” Santa stood up from the couch, instantly regretting screaming, for she had bit her own tongue. “Y-y-yur arth jusf trifing to twick me a-agen! And befides,” she opened her mouth and grasped her thick, meaty lizard tongue between her thumb and index claws “Befides,” a small wisp of smoke appeared on her tongue, which then went back to normal. “Besides, Santa is a responsible adult and I c-cannot agree to give twenty cakes to a single little one of young age and twenty cakes also count as twenty presents! W-what if I end making you fat and then y-you will become an angsty adult and badmouth m-me!”

“Geez, Santa! It’s not like I’m going to eat all those cakes at once! They are supposed to last for an entire year and I’m going to share them with the ponies to feed them! Your sack is magical, so you can also make the cakes with… no fat or calories, right?”

“MMMM-mnnn-nn… ca-calories? Uhm. I suppose… I suppose… mm-mmnnn, w-well, they still count as twenty presents!” Arms crossed, Santa made an adorable pouty face.

“Duh! It’s the same thing as the herd, except the cakes are coming from a bakery, not a stable and I’m making ONE order of twenty cakes! Instead of paying for twenty cakes, I’m paying for just one order! Imagine all the money I’ll save!”

“O-oh… a-a-a bakery… a single p-person making ONE order of twenty… cakes… hmmmnnn-mnn… then maybe… yes, maybe… the Christmas spirit would be ha-happy for all the money saved?”

“Yes!”

Santa walked in a circle around the living room in deep thought “Now, wait a second little one… I-I have to think about how happy the Christmas spirit will be… yes, yes.” She suddenly twisted, eyes wide open, like a person struck by thunder. “Little one! I… just had the most striking of thoughts!”

 “Do tell!” Said the child, smiling enthusiastically.

With a serious face illuminated by moonlight, the dragon opened her maw to share her mind “L-let’s just say that, uh, instead of single person there’s uh, mmmn, lots of persons and they, m-mnn, and they all go to a bakery – no, no, wait! They all go to a supermarket and ah, uh and t-this is a special one? Uh, a special s-supermarket that is just like, well, a bakery, s-so! Instead of paying for twenty… ah… t-twenty… T-TWENTY…!”

“Cabbages?!”

“MMM-mmnnn! Yes, yes! Twenty cabbages! But wait, wait! Instead of paying for NORMAL twenty cabbages, they are like, paying for ONE ORDER of twenty cabbages..! S-so, imagine…! IMAGINE…!”

“...Imagine if all supermarkets were to be like that! Food would be super cheap! You could pay for one or more orders of twenty somethings and save a lot of money!”

“Y-YES! And if all supermarkets in the world were to be like that…!”

“...There would be no more poor or starving people! And even if some were still in need, everyone now has a lot of food to spare so we could ship it all to impoverished countries and save all the starving children!”

“Such a wonderful idea! By c-changing something so simple we could give joy and laughter to the entire world!” Under the moonlight, hands held like praying and a wide smile on her face, Santa struck Amelie like the very image of a beatific goddess straight from one of her fantasy books. The child felt deep shame for how much trouble and distress she had caused to such gentle and kind woman (dragon) with a heart so pure and devoid of any form of ill will. At that very moment all of her doubts had been washed away and she was now the luckiest child in the world, one of the few ones to have ever met the real Santa Claus, a mythical figure with an actual real body and over a hundred pounds of flesh.

Oh, no! The time! Santa had already spent too much of the night at Amelie’s house, what about all the other children? Christmas was going to be ruined and all because of her initial lack of trust!

“S-Santa! You need to go right now! Christmas will end in just a couple hours!”

“My! But little one, your presents!” She quickly grabbed the magical sack and stuck one of her paws inside of it “Alright, Santa will be done really quick so no worries! So first, let’s start with your twenty cakes… twenty… cakes… y-yes… twenty… uh, mmmnn… t-t-t-t-t-t…”

“What happened! Santa, are you having problems to bake all those cakes? Just give me one and go!”

“N-N-N-NO! No! No worries, little one! I can get the t-twENTY cakes in a jiffy! I-I-It’s just that… mmmnn, the flavors… W-well, I-I’m just a silly old lady and we don’t have many different FLAvors for cakes in the North P-Pole… mnnn, all I ever made was pineapple cake, carrot cake a-and vanilla cake. But r-rest assured! Little KrAmPUS always tells me I’m good at baKInG cakes and also great at BeiNG oNE. So, uh, I-I-I-I-I-I suppose I could make new flaVORs for cakes l-like, MMMnnnn-n, carrot and pineapple cake, carrot and vAnillA CAKE and, and… aND a CakE with NO vaNiLla, nO C-c-CarrOT A-AND nO P-P-P-P-p-PINES, I MeaN, no-nO-NO APPles…!” Her voice had become something straight from a nightmare again and Santa’s seemed about to overheat from all the processing power she was using trying to come up with new flavors for cakes, Amelie could fell a dangerous, intense heat coming from the dragon’s body.

The child quickly grabbed one of Santa’s claws, ignoring how warm and sharp it felt. “Santa! Your sack is magical, don’t worry about it! Just let me tell the flavors to it!”

“oH! I SuPPosE sO...”

***

'Twas the night of Christmas and above all clouds under a starlit sky, two figures were riding a magical sled. Rude, cackling laughter coming from one of them ruined anything magical about the scene.

“AHAHAHAHAAA! AKAKAKAKAH! AHAHAHA! EHEHE! KEKEKE! HEE~ HEEEEeeeeee~~~ hooo~~~ hooooo~~~ Hoooh boy, you have really outdone yourself this time! I keep trying to convince myself every year that there’s no way the next Christmas will be better than the previous one, but I keep losing! I keep losing this one bet against myself every year and I fucking love it! No matter how shitty and boring this world is I always manage to find new ways to prank and kill those stupid motherfuckers on the naughty list and – there’s also you! You! A fat fucking blessed miracle of a cow that keeps giving! EHE! EHEKEKEKE!”

“L-L-L-LITTLE KRAMPUS! Y-your words! Words! The little hu-humans riding airplanes can hear you!”

“Hooo, whoops! Don’t worry they are probably deep in sleep inside of those planes after eating twenty – pfff, eheheee – twenty sandwiches or something!”

Krampus had finished doing all of her work for the year killing disgusting, unredeemable adults that sinned during the twelve days of Christmas and was now catching a ride back home on Santa’s sled. The diminutive furred imp was like a piece of nightmare devoid of all color, a real life version of a disturbing black and white drawing of a monstrous serial killer. Splatters of red blood and unidentifiable yellowish fragments from her victims streaked her furry monochromatic body in a violent contrast of color versus the lack of. She scooted closer to Santa and in a disturbingly creepy manner, rubbed her head against the dragon’s fat udders and gave smooch to one them, “Hooo! So warm and full of sweaty milk! Mamma had a problem dealing with that bad, bad, bad and naughty little girl? How many buckets of sweat you’d shed from those fat teats of yours? Maybe it would had been easier if I was there to hold your hand, hmmm? How about that, you dumb fat cow?”

“Stop it! I ha-hate when you act nasty and improper like that! I had no other choice! N-no other choice! The spirit of Christmas was in danger!”

Krampus smiled mockingly and slapped her own face with her furry mittens, “Hoohoo! Right! The spirit of Christmas! My Lord, how could I EVER forget about that! I stand corrected! You did great, mammacita, just great! Her dad will wake up on the next morning with his living room having been turned into something like a stable with horseshit and cake spread everywhere, but no worries – the spirit of Christmas: protected! Holy fuck, how come you have never surprised me gifting something like that? You know how I love the smell of blood and shit in the morning!”

“M-mean! Y-you are the one tha-that told me the spirit must be protected at all cost! A-a-and… can you… plEAse sToP caLLIng mE moMMA aND s-sTUFF iT maKEs me N-NerVoUS...”

“Well shit, my bad. It’s not my intent to unnerve that fragile psyche of yours, dear. But don’t worry, you have my word that you did a good job. If there’s no way for the child keep those ponies they can still be useful, like, being roasted for barbecue!”

Krampus turned to her sack of dead nasties sat on her side of the seat and gave it some pounding to knead it properly. In cat-like manner, she stretched her lean body luxuriously before laying down her head, feeling something soft and warm inside of the sack slowly giving to the pressure. Hands behind her nape, she laid her legs atop of Santa’s lap and smiled smugly, staring at the starry sky.

Was the so called "Spirit of Christmas" something real? Was it something more than a mere state of being? Did it had a concrete or ethereal form? Could it be killed or destroyed? Could something terrible happen? Well, Krampus for sure had no clue about it and she never bothered about searching for the fucking clue, anyway. Not like the whole deal about it was bad, really. Having a lingering threat as such, imaginary or not, was something good too keep Santa in check and stop that hopeless cow from becoming a worse fuck up than she already was and force her to do the job right - someone had to take care of the poor woman, after all! Besides, fuck. Krampus wasn’t acting by ill intent, there could be some real consequences if more humans found out the dragon was real - “BREAKING NEWS: Middle aged whore cosplaying as dragon was seen breaking into multiple houses during the night of Christmas” - actually, scratch that. Nowadays, there was more worrying shit like global warming to be watched on TV and cooler programs like those edgy ones about exotic insects on Discovery.

“Ho, by the way, did you made the chimney and fireplace explode again? Maybe you should had left a wad of cash for that poor father of hers.”

“E-Everyting went f-fine! Just fine! That chimney had a perfectly tight little hole … I-it felt so snugly and comfortable wi-with enough of pressure to massage those old bones of mine, l-l-l-like the hands of uh, ah, a Latino lover, you know, except that his rugged manly hands were made of bricks! And, uh, I have lots of experience about lovers? Mmmnnn, yes! Do-dozens, no! Hundreds of lovers so I couldn’t cont them even if used my hands and feet! T-that hole… ooohh oh ooOOH! It was like it had been made for me!”

One had to wonder how many dreams would be destroyed if children ever found out that the mythical figure of Santa was actually a hopeless chimney fetishist. Krampus herself was into some twisted shit for sure but not anything as bad as a chimney fetish. In all those centuries, she just had this one bad day when she binge-watched the train crash that was the entire series of Saw films and used it as masturbation material. And only because she had a momentary lapse of judgment and thought that the grizzly old dude was hot. In the latest years, she had watched humanity’s desire for the unusual and depraved develop with the speed of an out of control freight train.

The internet was like a bottomless hole of depravity, an infinitive source of positive feedback that reinforced her belief that this world was beyond any form of salvation. Last year, for shits and giggles she had became the mistress of an actual tile fetishist on 4chan. Krampus had a blast making him beg and debase himself only for a couple more exotic pictures of “brown middle eastern handmade sluts”. And would you look at that, ladies and gentlemen, let’s please sound the trumpets, ring all bells, play those cymbals like there’s no tomorrow and you are a retard with a complete lack of self-restraint and that’s because! Because...! Believe it or not, that dude was NOT on the naughty list, oh, oh no! He was a caring father! Had a lovingly wife and two little shits that he took to Disneyland every year and somehow, somehow... that was enough for whatever was the power that created the naughty list never write that disgusting fuck’s name on it!

Krampus hatred for humanity was only outweighed by her morbid fascination for how evil and naughtiness were alike unwashable stains sure to smear, sooner or later, every human soul after they reached adulthood. They could bear more sauce and smears than a napkin in an Italian restaurant and yet be considered good upstanding citizens, good men and women fully deserving presents every Christmas. How exactly some were chosen and come weren’t to be on the naughty list was something she had no idea at all.

Well. It was her last day of work in the year and she was sure boredom lied in wait for her just like the crocodile waits for the antelope on the watering hole. No matter how tired she was after days of killing adult sinners during Christmas, there was never enough time of fun. She tried to make the best of it, running herself ragged, skipping breakfast and other meals, but Krampus felt like it was never enough. There was always more than a handful of poisonous, toxic cockroaches that lived to see another year and one year was more than enough for those motherfuckers to BREED – in a more metaphorical and spiritual than physical sense, of course! Their poisonous ill intents and misdeeds would seep through cracks, infecting and twisting both heart and spirit of those close or far away of them. In the case of evil parents, they would start to corrupt their children at a very young age, planting the seed of an ugly flower that would bloom when they reached the cusp of teenager hood. Even with a heart full of hatred, Krampus felt moved by a deep, longing sadness whenever she tough about it.

Maybe *this* was the very thing she loved? This unending, unstoppable cycle of evil breeding more evil? She liked feeling in her heart the sadness, the hatred, more than the fun she had when bashing sinners brains into pieces like fireworks in the fourth of July? Holy shit, maybe she really loved humans and that was so, so fucked up, probably a worse fetish than chimneys. Fuck, that was some real deep shit and food for thought, that’s sure! Maybe she would reflect about it in her diary later!

For now, she just enjoyed the sight of the starry sky. It was funny how those lights, some older than this world, some younger than her, managed to make her mind feel so empty and at peace. Only that today, there was this one little thing still nagging her. Something that Santa had said and that she nearly brushed over.

“Mommy?” Krampus asked in a sleepy voice.

“W-why! The nerve! I’ve just told you to stop, yes! I-I-I’m not you mother and I don’t remember giving b-birth to a child as unruly as you! I’m very proud of my chastity, mind you! Mmmnn!”

“… how many lovers did you just said you had?”

“T-T-THAT. OH! W-well, I-I’m not lying or anything, I had many, no, bunches of them! Hmmmnn-nn, I-it’s just, huh, they were more like professional masseurs and always behaved in chaste and very gentlemanly way? Yes...?”

“Okay… Santa? You told me you gave this girl a herd of ponies…?”

“Yes? ONE herd of them and not even one pony more.”

“A herd of five.”

“ONE herd of five, that’s very important!”

“Ho. Just to refresh my mind, can you tell me exactly what the girl told you she wanted when she asked for the ONE herd of ponies?

“Uhmmmm-mnn, a knitted circle? Mmm-mnn, m-maybe a tight circle? A circle that is ti-tightly... knitted b-by… the tight-y pony sister… hood?”

Santa was sweating again.

Krampus sighed deeply. Oh well, oh shit, looks like there was yet one more work for her to do.

***
“Daddy, daddy, daddy! DADDY, DADDY, DADDY! WAKE UP, WAKE UP!”

What time was it? Amelie was jumping over and over atop of his bed trying to wake up Mark. Jesus Christ, he looked at the clock and it wasn’t even seven yet. He was sure that the girl had a belly full of turkey before going to bed, why did she woke up so early? God damn, the sun wasn’t even up!

“Pumpkin, please… just, just give me one more hour of sleep, okay? Go play with your presents, I’m sure Santa gave you lots of them.” He grumbled.

“But, daddy! I’ve met Santa! I thought she was super scary at first, but she is a woman that is like the dragon of Christmas cakes and Christmas trees and she smells like air freshener and she’s so SUPER nice! She had a really big magical sack and even after I was mean to her, she spared her time to give me cakes and ponies!”

“That so. Cool.” His daughter had probably opened up the package already, the one with plastic toys from that shitty series that dudes in their late twenties loved so much. “C’mon daddy! Rise up so I can introduce you to the ponies!” Oof. She wasn’t going to give up, was she? It was either rise up or allow this little monster to keep using his bed like a trampoline. “I’ve played all night with them and it was so much FUN! It was the Christmas present for the next ten Christmas!”

Ok, now that he was slightly more aware, what in the hell were those sounds coming from down bellow? Irritated, the adult threw away the blankets he was sleeping under and grabbed his daughter’s hand. Time to go fix some breakfast and check the living room.

Breakfast was completely forgotten when his nose was overcome by an overpowering smell, the byproduct of mixing poop, urine, horses and sweets. The door leading to the living room had been completely destroyed and it’s framing laid inside of a hole tore on one of the plywood walls, Mark’s brain had just been shut down completely, becoming incapable of forming something close to a rational thought. All rationality in the world had just been killed – it had been killed by the bunch of creatures prancing around, playing on what was left of his living room, now a forest of wedding cakes high as towers, its floor's a thick foliage made by a muddy mix of horseshit, urine, pine branches, cake and slices of pineapple.

They were like the end result of a madman’s experiment that gathered a bunch of small horses, just to cut their heads off and saw children torsos to them. They were dressed in cute, tightly-knit red sweaters that strikingly contrasted against their pitch-black fur and purplish skin. Their smiling faces had eyes as red as strawberries, two spiraled black horns coming up from both sides of their foreheads. Those little creatures were building a castle - a castle whose walls were being made by using the forest of cakes as a source of raw material, the rate of its deforestation quicker than the damage caused by bush fires in Australia.

Amelie yelled excitedly, rushing past him to join on the effort to develop a completely new form of architecture the world had yet to know. Something flied through the shattered pieces of his mind, two sweet, single words that whispered to him the path towards salvation - A way out. There was only one way out of this situation, so he bravely turned his back to the chaos he faced and marched towards the kitchen’s cabinet.

He found the half full bottle of Chivas Regal and grasped its neck like a sailor would grasp the mast of an imminent shipwreck.

***

Mark ended telling family and friends that both he and his daughter were in a need for fresh air, they were tired of the polluted cityscape and the neighborhood they had lived was going all the way over to hell, too many cases of robbery and thieves breaking into families homes. In less than a week, he had packed up everything he could and moved to a recluse cabin in the middle of the woods. Amelie’s grandparents had screamed for hours at him. What about his daughter? How dare him to take her to live in a place where the closest school was ten miles away, where phone signal was terrible, a region not covered by cable and no Starbucks or McD’s in sight?

Everything would be ok, he assured. It was Amelie’s idea after all and actually, the kid had a real thing going on for the nature, birds, animals, recycling PET bottles, new age shit and (supposedly) a Mystical Connection With The Mother Earth. She had begged him the entire year to live in a cool place full of nature and birds, and why, he just wanted to be a supportive parent so he had no choice, no choice at all but to be a cool dad and give what his daughter so much desired.

Of course, he’d never told a soul about the unexpected visit he got after barely a sip of whiskey had entered his lips on that disastrous morning. The thing that knocked at his door looked like a teenager serial killer straight from a slasher movie, a butcher’s meat mallet covered in blood grasped on one of her hands. She was naked, with only some belts, straps, blood and fur covering her body. But it was not like he had noticed it at all, because he couldn’t stop staring at her disturbing sick and wide smile full of jagged teeth. She spoke, and in a sing-song voice she had told him with those exact words to “Ok, get your fucking ass out of town as quick as possible unless you want a visit from a bunch of sick cunts dressed in black suits. Oh, they are going to love to give a look at your daughter’s new ponies and if some motherfucking thing motherfucking happens to those bicorns you’re gonna wish to be oh, so fucking dead before I get my claws on you. Capisce?”

But in the end, everything turned out fine. Even the serial killer monster turned out to be a really nice and understanding girl, since before leaving and slapping his ass on the way out, she had left him a full crate of Chivas. Everything was good and right with the world and his daughter was very happy playing with the herd of bicorns, even if their new home at the woods had terrible Wi-Fi and no way to watch Netflix.

The End

(I was going to write a sequel, but eh)