**WARNING: This story contains strong language and violent content as well as controversial depictions of popular holiday figures.**
This short story/poem was inspired by a prompt from /r/WritingPrompts submitted by /u/FormlessFox.
Prompt: “Every year you convert the coal Santa brings you into diamonds to fund your criminal syndicate. This year you only get a note that says, ‘You made the wrong list–Santa Team Six.'”
‘Twas the night before Christmas
I was going through the mail
A winter storm brewed
I feared there would be hail
I laid eyes upon a letter
Addressed to me
It was from St. Nick
But this was not his typical delivery
This was not
A package of coal
He had not come down the chimney
To deliver this note
It simply said that I had made the “wrong list”
And then I saw the words “Santa Team Six”
I paced and pondered as I tried to figure out
Just what the hell this Santa Team Six shit was about
Then I looked outside and saw that the snow was red
I looked closer and noticed two of my henchmen lay dead!
I radioed my other men in the wake of this violence
But all I heard back was the sound of silence
I ran straight to my armory in a flash
It was time to go through my weapons stash
I grabbed two small uzis and I grabbed my knife
I refused to fall victim to the reaper’s scythe
My business and I won’t die tonight
I am not going down without a fight
I heard the crashing of glass
And treading about
And decided it was time
To snuff these motherfuckers out
I exited the armory and before my eyes appeared
A team of little men in red and green military gear
Armed with assault rifles
They sprung in a hurry
As I unleashed a spray
Of gunfire with fury
I killed them all except for three
That’s when they shot me in both knees
I couldn’t move and I thought I was dead
And then I heard a voice that said,
“Let this bastard suffer and bleed
On this blessed Christmas Eve
Please, go; leave this scene
And leave this stain on the Earth to me.”
The figure was dressed all in red
In military gear from toe to head
He took my guns and revealed his visage
And to my horror it was Santa Claus
I felt the steel on my forehead from his gun
He said, “Did you really think that you had won?
Did you really think you had me fooled?
I am always watching you
I’ve given you too many chances to change
To allow the coal alone to serve as a source of shame
But using it to fund crime as a way to live
That’s something that would even be tough for Jesus to forgive
But on this holy Christmas night
It would be wrong for me to take a defenseless life
Despite all of the blood you have shed
I will not shoot a defenseless man in the head
But to take you away from your business and massive wealth
You will live out your days as an Elf on the Shelf”
So now I sit frozen in time
And I sometimes miss my life of crime
But whenever I think back to that fateful night
I remember how Santa (sort of) spared my life.