A Monstrous Christmas

 

The three children pressed their faces to the window. Behind them the room was so dark their pale faces were highlighted by the streetlamps as if they were three French mime artists.

They looked mournfully at the empty streets full of self-pity believing they would never be free again.

As they looked, swirls of Mist coalesced behind them forming into a hideous figure with brawny arms and a wolf like visage.  The children whimpered as they felt the harsh breath on their necks.  The chainsaw-like growl turned their bowels to ice.  Anticipating the end, the three sank to their knees.

The outside door exploded into splinters as a red robed figure burst into the room.  Before the malevolent figure had time to react, the Cigar chomping red robed interloper fired his Bazooka square at him.

The children shook as one, as the blood covered them like a Tsunami.

The red robed figure spotted a fridge in the corner of the room.  He fished out a beer, cracked it open and took a swig. He grimaced as he realised it was a bottle of 89p Leopard lager.

He turned to face the children. The eldest, an eleven-year-old girl called Griselda, wiped her eyes and looked at her rescuer.  She gasped in surprise.

'Father Christmas, is that you?'

'Guilty as charged.'

'I don't understand. How? Why?' she faltered.

'Kid, I've been delivering presents to you youngsters for centuries now.  I kinda’ like this planet.  However, if there's one thing I can't abide, it is all the goddamn pesky child eating Monsters.'