>Christmas eve with cute Dullahan wife
>sitting by the fireplace with her head in my lap
>she's sipping from a cup of hot cocoa I'm holding in front of her
>dear god if she gets any cuter I am gonna fucking divorce her **so I can marry her again**
>watching the local news together because we already finished watching A Christmas Story, Home Alone, Charlie Brown Christmas and Die Hard
>there's a breaking news report
>someone has stolen Baby Jesus from the nativity scene in front of town hall
>vigorously smack the top of wife's head, causing her to spit out a mouthful of hot cocoa
>"Gah! What the hell was that for, Anon?!"
>ignore her and take a big swig from the mug
>do a huge spit-take on her head, making her yelp
>WHAT?! Baby Jesus has been kidnapped? Some godless Scrooge is trying to Grinch us out of our Christmas... by going to the very source!
>"Why did you spit on me? Oh forget it. Look, this happens a lot in certain towns every year, Anon. It's not really that big of a deal."
>Not a big deal? NOT A BIG DEAL?! You mean to tell me that our LORD and MOTHER FUCKING SAVIOR is not a big deal?
>"You're not even christian."
>That's right, I'm not christian. I'm AMERICAN. It is my civic duty to ensure that the great ritual of American Christmas is carried out every year, and in order for it to have any meaning, there must be a Baby Jesus. How are we supposed to celebrate the birth of Baby Jesus in a complete absence of said Baby Jesus?
>"Actually, Anon, Christmas isn't Christ's actual birthday. Originally, it was the germanic holiday of Yule, which celebrated the winter solstice. You see, when the Romans..."
>There you go again with your marxist heathenry. At this very moment, Christmas is on the verge of ruin, and you still have the audacity to sit here comfortably without a care in the world!
>"You're doing the exact same thing."
>That's about to change. It's time we took action!
>stand up and run for the closet
>pull out a santa costume and a "sexy" santa costume with gratuitous cleavage and candy cane thigh-highs
>wife's face suddenly turns sour
>"Anon, no."
>No what?
>"It's fucking Christmas eve. This should be the one day out of the entire year when I don't have to put up with your crazy bullshit."
>I don't make you put up with my bullshit on your birthday.
>"Yes you do! This year you peed on the sheriff!"
>Exactly. You are not the sheriff. You are Mrs. Claus, and tonight you will be spouse to the jolliest motherfucker on earth.
>she blushes and pouts angrily
>"F-fine! Let's just get it over with quick. It's snowing outside and the car is terrible on icy roads."
>strap on my big white beard as I finish my transformation into Santa Claus
>Who said anything about a car?
>kick open the front door, letting the cold air flow in
>wife shivers as I begin to dress her, starting with her stockings, which I take my time with
>she peeks out the door and notices a big red sleigh sitting in our driveway
>in front of the sleigh are a dozen reindeer centaurs dressed in fur coats
>"Anon, what the fuck?! When did you have the time to set this up? Who are those women?"
>They're whores, but that's not important. What's important is that I hired a bunch of whores to help us save Christmas.
>"It was you, wasn't it?"
>Come again?
>"You stole the Baby Jesus so you could have an excuse to do something stupid. You have the Baby Jesus in that sleigh and you're going to rape it in front of a bunch of carolers."
>Some of what you just said is half true, but this is something I tell you with utmost honesty: I am NOT the one who has Baby Jesus.
>"Who else could have possibly done it?!"
>We're gonna find out!
>strap a red cap onto her head and carry her outside, guiding her body along the way
>the whores sigh and put their harnesses on as wife and I hop into the sleigh
>"Wait, this thing doesn't have headlights. It isn't safe!"
>Oh shit, you're right!
>"See? This plan can't work. Let's go back inside and forget all about --"
>jam a ballgag into her mouth
>the ball lights up and glows with a bright red light
>wife attempts to shout at me, but can only mumble angrily
>pull out a pool net with an extra long handle and put her head inside of it
>stick it out in front of the sleigh, serving as a beacon to light our way
>Mush, whores! On Candy, on Crystal, on Jenny and Jeanie!
>some of them mutter swears under their breath as they pull the sled
>we make our way down the quiet, snowy roads
>along the way, wife's body slaps at me in protest as I can hear her head cry
>a big group of kids spot us and start following us, cheering for our success
>Ho ho ho! Merry Christmas, you filthy animals!
>dump out the huge sack of presents that was weighing the sleigh down
>presents fall out onto the road
>the children gleefully run towards the presents and unwrap them
>the presents are full of possums
>the children run screaming as the possums chase them, hissing angrily
>Ho ho ho! Farewell, my mangy children! Remember to shit in all their mailboxes, just like I trained you to do!
>wife's hands instinctively move to cover a face that isn't even attached to her body
>after a few minutes, we make it to town hall
>unlike the rest of town, the outside of town hall is fairly crowded with townsfolk singing carols around a huge Christmas tree
>they spot us coming and start to cheer, crowding around the sleigh as it comes to a stop
>pull wife's head out of the net and remove her gag
>hold her head in my arms as I wave at all the townsfolk
>"Everyone, please let me say up front that I am very, VERY sorry for whatever is about to happen."
>Ho ho ho! Meeeeerry Christmas!
>the crowd claps and cheers
>Ho ho ho! Mrs. Claus and I came here the moment we heard that poor Baby Jesus had been kidnapped. Don't worry, boys and girls. We'll get to the bottom of this! Now, where can Santa find some good, reliable possu-- Urk!
>grab my big, fake Santa belly and keel over, coughing and groaning
>the good cheer suddenly vanishes and wife looks at me worriedly
>Huh huh huh? W-what's this? Santa Claus has been... POISONED?!
>the crowd gasps
>pretend to strain as I point towards one of the whores accusingly
>Crystal, you ignorant slut! That wasn't a refreshing, ice-cold Coca Cola you gave me earlier. It was a Pepsi! That's weapons-grade Santhrax!
>the crowd boos at crystal as she flips me off and lights up another cigarette
>Oh no no no! Santa can feel the merriment and good-will towards man trying to escape his body! It is as if a thousand demons prod at his old bones with red-hot pokers as his innards boil in a cauldron of unyielding malice. It's... it's coming out! Aaaaarrrgh!
>tear open my Santa vest, allowing the bloody pig guts that had been stuffed inside it to spill out
>the crowd screams and the children begin to sob
>wife now has her head in her palms, where she wanted them to be
>Hoff cough cough! Mrs. Clause, I... I cannot go on. It is up to you to save Christmas now.
>"Anon, please stop. You're scaring people and humiliating me."
>Huff huff huff... You must do it... for the children! And the possums!
>the crowd encourages her and she turns red with embarrassment
>Heeze wheeze wheeze... To save Christmas, you must sing!
>"Anon, I swear to fucking god if you make me sing another Jud--"
>You must sing "All Guns Blazing" by Judas Priest!
>"NO! Absolutely not! Never again!"
>the crowd begs her to sing and she turns even more red
>"Now, go go go... Save Baby Jesus... Save... Christmas..."
>fall over dead
>the crowd wails in anguish and are shouting at wife to start singing
>she clenches her fists and closes her eyes, which are welling up with tears
>finally, she gives in, holding her head up high and taking a deep breath
>"TWISTIIIIING THE STRANGLE GRIP, WON'T GIVE NO MERCY! FEELIIIING THOSE TENDONS RIP, TORN UP AND MEAN!"
>the local greasemonkey steps forwards and starts mouthing out the guitar riffs with great enthusiasm
>"Twisting the strangle grip won't give no mercy! Feeling those tendons rip, torn up and mean! Blastmaster racks the ground, bent on survival! Full throttle hammers down, a deadly scream!"
>"ALL! GUNS! ALL GUNS BLAZING!"
>she starts to weep as the crowd sings along to the chorus, throwing up the horns in praise
>the sheriff walks out of the town hall building to see what's going on
>he sees a headless woman screaming a speed metal carol with an increasingly unruly mob singing along
>beside her is a pile of pig guts draped in a Santa costume and a bunch of whores smoking cigarettes
>his eyes bulge with disgust at this scene and he starts barking towards the crowd
>"What in the hell? Now what on God's green earth are y'all doing?! Cease and desist this faggot parade!"
>wife stops singing and turns to him with knees trembling and tears in her eyes
>"Sheriff, wait! This is all just an act! Please, let us expla--"
>her eyes go wide as she notices I am no longer lying in the pile of pig guts and have completely vanished
>she looks up at the top of the town hall and nearly faints from the embarrassment overcoming her
>suddenly, the sheriff feels something dribbling on his head
>he looks up to notice a familiar stream of urine falling on him from the top of the building
>the crowd gasps as they point towards the mysterious figure standing above town hall holding an Islamic State flag along with his penis
>it's me, wearing a gorilla costume with big devil horns
>someone in the crowd yells "Bah gawd, it's Krampus! Gun him down, sheriff!"
>the sheriff's face goes beet red and he shrieks like an impotent dinosaur man as he pulls his pistol from its holster and opens fire at me
>the IS flag I have has a lead lining inside of it, and I use it to deflect the oncoming gunfire
>Fools! Man-made weapons are powerless against the Krampus!
>several police officers rush out of the building and apprehend the maddened sheriff, dragging him back inside
>Behold, Christmas is no more! Which means...
>grab the American flag hanging above town hall and throw it to the ground below
>replace it with the IS flag (obviously removing the lead first)
>America is finished! Without Jesus and Santas Clause, America is nothing but a void to be filled with the glory of Shariah Law!
>the crowd boos and hisses at me
>wife simply looks up at me with humiliated anger
>"Anon. Get down here. Give them back their stupid doll."
>Oh? I'm afraid it's far too late to save poor Baby Jesus now.
>"Anon, I swear to fucking god, if you start raping that doll..."
>Rape the little Baby Jesus? Really now, Mrs. Claus. Did you think I would bring Baby Jesus up here and rape him to death in front of the townspeople?
>the crowd turns to wife and look at her with surprised disgust
>That's right... BECAUSE I ALREADY RAPED BABY JESUS TO DEATH FIFTEEN MINUTES AGO! HAHAHAHA!
>the crowd gasps and several women faint
>wife simply fall to her knees and begins crying
"Of all the things... Of all the things you could ruin. Why did it have to be our Christmas? You're a heartless monster!"
>the townspeople gather around and attempt to console her, much to her chagrin
>suddenly, she hears my voice coming from behind her
>she turns and looks back at the discarded Santa suit, which had a tape recorded hidden inside of it
>Oooo ooo ooo! Fret not, Mrs. Claus! As long as the spirit of Christmas lives in the hearts of the American people, it will never die. With your power, you can bring Baby Jesus back. I know you can do it, babe!
>the crowd looks at her with hope in their eyes as they beg her for a miracle
>she finally reaches her boiling point and explodes with anger, tearing off her red hat and throwing it onto the snow
>"I HAVE FUCKING HAD IT WITH YOU!"
>the crowd gasps as they all notice something hidden inside her hat
>wife's anger suddenly vanishes as she reaches down and picks it up
>it's the missing Baby Jesus
>What's this? A real Christmas miracle?! IMPOSSIBLE! IT CANNOT BEEEEE!
>her jaw drops as she holds her head in her elbows and Baby Jesus in her hands
>the crowd gazes at her with warm smiles and joyous tears
>in front of her is the nativity scene which she slowly approaches
>she puts Baby Jesus back in the manger where he belongs
>NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!
>the Krampus suit bursts into flames, along with the IS flag
>tumble forward and fall off the roof, falling two stories into the snow
>the crowd cheers and wife shrieks
>"Oh my god! ANON!"
>she rushes over to the motionless Krampus suit, which is now extinguished
>she starts shaking the Krampus suit while crying frantically
>"Anon, why? Why would you do something so dangerous?! You're okay, right? Please tell me you're okay! Oh god. Oh... oh my god."
>just before she can start crying again, she hears my voice coming from behind her again
>Hooooo ho ho! Meeeeeerry Christmas!
>the crowd cheers with joy as they see Santa standing before them again, alive and with all his gross pig guts stuffed back into him
>wife does several double takes, then tears open the Krampus costume, revealing it to be empty
>she stands up and runs towards me
>wife jumps into my embrace and holds me tightly
>gently pat her head as she sniffles
>"You're such a dick... but I love you for it."
>the crows applauds and their hearts melt at the tender scene
>the town's bell suddenly rings out, letting everyone know it has just struck midnight
>"Merry Christmas, Mr. Clau--"
>her smile fades as she notices the contacts I just put in my eyes, making them look glazed-over and lifeless
>stand perfectly still as everyone looks at me, confused
>open my mouth, causing fake blood to dribble out
>It begins...
>suddenly vomit an entire pint of fake blood onto wife
>she screams, as do the townsfolk
>lift my arms up and keep my mouth open as the tape recorder starts playing again
>Fooooools! I am Odin, the great and terrible god of this so-called Christmas, which is actually my dark holiday of Yule. My heathen legions have returned to reclaim what is rightfully ours! Run free, children of the night! Let the wild hunt begin once more!
>someone points and brings to attention something approaching down the street
>possums
>hundreds of possums
>all running towards the crowd, full of piss and vinegar
>the crowd screams as the possums chase them into the town hall
>wife looks at me with wide eyes
>she has absolutely no idea how she should be reacting to this
>pick her up and start running home, wading through the wave of savage possums
>the jog home is completely silent
>when we're almost to our house, wife speaks up
>"Anon, why do you do these things?"
>Because it's fun. Why else?
>"I know it's fun for you, but... I don't have fun. I always feel so humiliated by what you do."
>Okay, look, it's Christmas, so I'm gonna be perfectly honest with you. The reason I do this is because I love you.
>"You're just trying to flatter me."
>I'm not. You've known me for years, so you should realize how difficult it is for me to be sentimental. Even though I love you so much, it's still hard for me to show that love in a genuine way. It makes me feel... vulnerable, I guess? That's why I try to balance it all out with this kooky bullshit. It's like my love for you is too big, and I'm afraid that if it gets even bigger, it'll turn hollow. That's why, more than anything, I love it when you forgive me for the terrible things I do, because it makes me feel like we're falling in love all over again.
>"Anon..."
>she looks at me with big eyes and nuzzles into my chest
>"I'm still not ready to forgive you for this. You're gonna have to do something really great to make up for it."
>I already have.
>kick the door open
>there are over a dozen huge stacks of books sitting in the hallway that weren't there when we left the house
>wife gasps when she reads the title on the covers: How to Bully a Dullahan (and Make Her Love You for it)
>it's a collection of memoirs she had written over the years about our life together
>the same memoirs she has been trying to hide from me over the years
>"Whazza? Hubbawhasu? Howdiyuba? HUUUUHHH?!"
>I know how much you hate it when I read the stuff you write. That's why I showed it to a major publisher and got it turned into a book. Written by you. The editor says it was some of the most incredible stuff he has ever read and has been wanting to talk to the genius responsible for it for some time. Oh, and I told them to bring some copies here while we were away.
>her lip starts trembling, but her eyes have run out of tears, so she smiles
>Merry Christmas, you beautiful woman.
>she sighs and goes limp in my arms
>carry her up stairs and lay her on the bed
>Let's get some sleep. It's been a long night.
>suddenly feel a tender hand crawling down my pants
>turn to look at wife's head on the pillow, giving me THAT look
>"Don't I get to give you a present as well?"
>smile and slowly start laying down on top of her body, unbuttoning her sexy santa outfit
>"Merry Christmas, you filthy animal."