Owen was sitting in his house, eating a particularly delicious batch of organic grapes, when he saw a red-suited man through his window.
“Monsanto!”, he cried. “They’ve finally found me!”.
He put the grapes in his pocket, paced around for a bit, and walked outside, shotgun in hand.
Slowly creeping, clutching the metal of the barrel in tightly, he sees the red man again, and proceeds to empty as much lead into his as he could.
“Try poisoning me now, you genetic bastards!”, he screamed, as he ran towards the body.
Alas, Owen had not killed Monsanto, or even a Monsanto representative. No, that’d make this a fairly short story, and would have little to do with Christmas.
Owen had killed Santa Claus, and the moment he realized this, a cold feeling dropped in his stomach. He knew that he had ruined the holiday for everyone, and that dark times would follow.
The latter part of that was confirmed when a dark demon dropped down from the sky.
“Thank you so much for awakening me, my boy. I was worried that that St. Nick asswipe was going to keep me trapped up there forever.” the black figure said, grinning with a sinister smile.
“What the hell is going on?”
“Santa was keeping me contained in a jail in heaven. For every present he delivered, it increased the strength of the walls keeping me held back from, you know, ruling over the world
“But thanks to your shotgunning him, Santa can’t hold me back anymore. Thank you, my pet.”
Owen felt terrible. Not only had he caused overarching chaos and possibly doomed the entire planet, but he had also realized he was out of bullets.
The demon descended away, presumably cause general destruction and un-merriment during the holiday season.
Owen realized he couldn’t stand for this, and suddenly noticed that Santa had left his sled, reindeer, and the bag of toys.
Owen, without wasting a second, hopped into the sled.
“Damnit, I don’t know the names of you reindeer. Whatever you guys are named, off with ya!”
This apparently was enough, and the reindeer started flying.
Owen wasn’t sure where the demon was heading, but he guessed it was where all the scum-and-filth-filled-demons live on earth: Wall Street.
They arrive in New York, and unsurprisingly, the demon is there, doing a bunch of evil, horrible demonly things. He slaughtered Christmas Carolers, he punched Salvation-Army-Santas, he tripped old ladies, and that was just the beginning if Owen didn’t do something.
Owen reached into the bag to find some ammunition, and found a small rocket launcher. I guess terrorists need Christmas too, he thought.
He fired several rounds into the demon, and like throwing popcorn at a toddler, it just bounced off.
“Ha! Do you think you can stop me with mere human weapons?! Really?! I’m a fucking demon!”
“Well then how the hell did Santa do it before?!” Owen screamed. It was a valid question.
“Oh, wouldn’t you like to know!”
Owen flew over the demon, where the demon swatted at him, which violently rocked the sleigh, causing Owen to fall over, and one of the grapes to fall out of his pocket, landing on the demon.
The demon screamed in agony. “Shit! Are these organic?!”
Seizing the opportunity, Owen subsequently started throwing all the remaining grapes at him, eventually causing the demon to descend back to heaven, presumably back to his jail from whence he came.
The day was saved, except Owen had no real idea how to go about delivering presents.
All of a sudden, someone appeared behind Owen. “I can take it from here, m’boy”.
It was Santa.
“Wait…I thought I killed you!”
“Owen, I’ve been alive for thousands of years fighting off a demon. Did you really think that a shotgun could have killed me”.
Owen shrugged. He made a good point.
“I merely was testing to see if you were worthy of a present this Christmas. You certainly lost points for the whole shotgun thing, but you broke even with the whole demon-killing thing. Let’s just call this a draw”
“Wait…So you’re not giving me a present”
“No, but I’m also not going to line your house with explosives like my initial plan.”
This seemed like a fair trade.
So remember this children: When you don’t get any presents for Christmas, don’t feel bad…Feel good that you weren’t violently murdered by Santa Claus.