hillbilly death metal plays
I scurry beneath my bed and grab my twelve gauge 4 barrel pump shotgun and mutter to myself “Its him”
slowly descending down my chimney is Santa in a kilt tossing well v-clipping through every object in my house “merry new year I bring the fruit cake” he says
“Not this year new year Santa” i yell as i blast though a shelf into the next room in a attempt to slow him. For no mortal can kill him ” not the kids, not again” I mutter as I pull put my scorpion machine pistol loaded with a 85 round drum and start spraying in his genital direction shooting the fruit cake he was holding “the fruit cake… you know what happens now” *he says in a whisper, yet his voice is still booming” he expands “no” I cry