IT'S THE NIGHT BEFORE CHRISTMAS. YOU'RE ALONE, STANDING IN YOUR KITCHEN, EATING A PLATE OF COOKIES IN YOUR UNDERWEAR. THIS HAS BEEN YOUR TRADITION YOUR ENTIRE ADULT LIFE, EVER SINCE YOU CAUGHT YOUR DAD DOING THE SAME THING ONE CHRISTMAS AND STOPPED BELIEVING IN MAGIC. YOUR EXTREMELY SAD DINNER IS INTERRUPTED WHEN YOU HEAR LOUD CLOMPING NOISES COMING FROM THE ROOF. YOU'RE A GROWN MAN, YOU DON'T BELIEVE IN SANTA. YOU FIGURE IT'S PROBABLY JUST SOME RACCOONS BUTTFUCKING IN THE ATTIC. THE CLOMPING NOISES STOP. A FEW SECONDS LATER, THE SILENCE IS BROKEN BY A LOUD CRASH IN THE LIVING ROOM. YOU RUN TO GO CHECK. YOU EXPECT TO SEE TWO RACCOONS WHO GOT A LITTLE OUT OF HAND, BUT INSTEAD, YOU SEE SOMETHING FAR MORE MAGICAL. IT'S MRS.CLAUS. NOT THE GROSS, OLD ONE EITHER. IT'S A SEXY, COUGAR AGED MRS.CLAUS; WITH TITTIES FULL OF EGGNOG. SHE SAYS IT'S BEEN A LONG SLEIGH RIDE AND SHE'S THIRSTY FOR BALLMILK. HOW COULD YOU REFUSE? YOU DON'T WANT TO BE A BAD HOST AND YOU ALREADY ATE HALF THE COOKIES YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO LEAVE OUT. BUT NO, YOU CAN'T. NOW THAT YOU KNOW HE'S REAL, YOU COULD NEVER CUCK SANTA. IF HE GIVES COAL TO KIDS JUST FOR GETTING SHITTY REPORT CARDS, YOU CAN'T IMAGINE WHAT HE'D DO TO A GROWN MAN FOR FUCKING HIS WIFE. SHE STOPS YOUR RAMBLING AND EXPLAINS TO YOU THAT THEY HAVE AN AGREEMENT. EVERY CHRISTMAS, THEY BOTH GET TO FUCK AS MANY PEOPLE AS THEY WANT. HE'S BUSY UNLOADING HIS SACK ONTO EVERY HOT MOM IN THE WORLD (INCLUDING YOURS) THIS VERY MOMENT. SHE TELLS YOU THAT YOU'VE BEEN A REAL PIECE OF SHIT. SHE'S BEEN WATCHING YOU ALL YEAR, FLICKING IT TO ALL OF YOUR MISDEEDS. NOW IT'S TIME TO PAY THE PIPER. JUST LIKE THE GRINCH'S HEART, YOUR LITTLE DICK GROWS THREE TIMES LARGER. YOU'RE READY TO DELIVER A SLOPPY YULE LOG DIRECTLY INTO HER SOUTH HOLE. IT'S TIME FOR YOU TO GIVE HER THAT WHITE CHRISTMAS SHE'S BEEN DREAMING OF. SHE JERKS YOU OFF WITH YOUR OWN STOCKING WHILE MAKING YOU NAME ALL OF SANTA'S REINDEER. BY THE TIME YOU GET TO PRANCER, YOU UNLEASH A BLIZZARD OF JIZZ. YOU FILL THE STOCKING UNTIL IT'S PRACTICALLY BURSTING AT THE SEAMS. SHE TIES IT OFF AND TOSSES IT OVER HER SHOULDER, THEN MAKES HER WAY TO THE FIREPLACE. THE CHRISTMAS MAGIC LEAVES AND YOUR DICK SHRINKS BACK DOWN SUPER SMALL AGAIN, LIKE IT NORMALLY IS. SHE'S GONE, SHOOTING BACK UP THE FUCKING CHIMNEY LIKE MARY POPPINS. IT'S JUST YOU NOW. BUT YOU STILL FEEL SOMEONE WATCHING YOU. YOU LOOK AROUND THE ROOM AND SPOT HIM. THE ELF ON THE SHELF, HE'S BEEN THERE THE WHOLE TIME. WATCHING FROM THE SHADOWS AND POUNDING THE STUFFING OUT OF HIS OWN DICK. ONCE YOU MAKE EYE CONTACT, HE SCURRIES AWAY INTO THE DARKNESS. WHATEVER, FUCK IT. YOU JUST WANT TO FINISH YOUR COOKIES. WHEN YOU CHECK THE KITCHEN, THEY'RE GONE. BUT SITTING RIGHT NEXT TO THE EMPTY PLATE IS A TALL, FROSTY GLASS OF EGGNOG.
