Writing Prompt

He walked down the door He was red and it wasn’t blood Even good days were cold

He was warm, it wasn’t the cloak She wore red and it wasn’t blood Even bad days turned hot

He walked down the door It was silent and on floor She screamed but no one heard

Bad days ain’t about presents My presents came from events Say cheese, aim to the faces

Say cheese, ain’t for moments My presents came from bad taste Bad taste for the ones at haste

Drag you back to my sled. Don’t worry, it won’t make a face My deers won’t make a name

Come near, don’t fear If you don’t want to hear, don’t hear If you don’t want to see, it will still tear

Ho, ho, ho! It doesn’t need to be Krampus to be about you I don’t feed from cookies and milk, I feed from you

He’s wicked, He’s nasty He really is too cruel~ An old grumpy man As short as a stool~

He’s ancient He’s ugly He’ll ruin your day Take away everything you use to play~

His ‘elves’ Are is wicked friends Just as short and ugly They’ll leave your house looking funny

They suck the joy away So beware on Christmas day.. Cuz’ the bad, bad santa clause~ May be coming you way~~

Down through the snickets and moss covered walls, bad Santa hungover stubs his toe and he falls, He curses and damns the terraced old gate, Though he gives not a fig if his presents are late, For you see this old codger woke up in a mood No cookies were left with his milk or some food He does splits over ice and asks what’s the crack Why should he risk all the nuts in his sack For some snot covered yout passed out his bed With dreams of game stations a whirl in his head Not a thought for bad Santa all cold in the snow Not a thought for those bed less the less that they know The more that they want, the more that they need To fill their daft heads with baubles and greed Bad Santa resents rewarding the mindless For is this not the time to show others some kindness He sighs as he wades through the ginnels and walls Merry Christmas be damned and humbug to you all

It’s Christmas Eve And time to sleep So Santa can bring a toy

Children in bed Fat man in red But does he really bring joy

For presents are under the tree Before Bad Santa comes and sees And he takes these gifts carefully

And After Santa steals these presents piled He poisons each and every child He’ll be in prison for a while

They says he gives toys when he takes. Breaking into the houses of innocent people stealing what they love and what they need, leaving nothing but coal and lost hopes.

He turns Christmas joy into Christmas despair. As a sour feeling floods the air. Santa is coming, you can run and hide, but he always sees you.

He knows when you are sleeping, he knows when your awake, and with this he plots his vengeance just for ol’ time’s sake.

He comes out at night, after eight to be precise. He's paunchy, middle aged and balding. The suit that adorns his body is creased and raggedy and smells of tobacco smoke. It's December 24th, the snow has been falling all night and Old Saint Nick is hungover. "Nick, we gotta go or we won't make it in time" the high pitched voice of Rudolf, Nick's right hand reindeer pierces through Mr. Clause' alcohol induced headache. Santa lets out a tired groan, his throat crackling from the previous night of cigarettes. "Caaan you guys juust go without meee?"Santa grumbles incoherently. His blood alcohol level still rather high. "Nick, you try and get out of this every year! You know the world looks for you AND your reindeer" Rudolph lets out a long sigh and scratches at his bright red nose. "You really oughta get some help for the drinking, you're a public figure" Santa begrudgingly lifts his out of shape body out of his chair, leaving behind old Dorito crumbs and stacks of porn magazines. "Alright, let's get this over with, I don't know how this holiday is still in style in 2024" Rudolph called out to the other reindeers who were sleeping in the back room. "Prancer, Dancer, go get the sleigh" As the two lesser known Reindeer trotted outside to get all the gifts to attach to the sleigh, something jumped out of a nearby bush towards Prancer. With gun laws having been quite lax in the North Pole for some time, Prancer had been carrying a pistol in his saddle for many years. Quick to startle he grabbed his pistol and aimed towards the bush. Pop, pop, pop. Three consecutive shots. There was silence for a moment and then groaning. Laboured breaths intertwined with gurgling sounds. "What did you do?!" Shouted Dancer, as they both approached the bush. Rudolph, having heard the gunshots ring out came galloping towards his seasonal coworkers. From a distance he could see a trail of blood and two legs with red velvety pants and big brown boots sticking out from the bush. "Shit" he sighed. "Looks like Christmas is cancelled" The three reindeer gathered up Santa's corpse and threw him in the back of the sleigh. "Christmas is never cancelled" exclaimed Dixon, the reindeer nobody remembered existed. He threw more gifts atop the bloated body of the Christmas icon. The reindeer made their way out of the North Pole right in time to deliver all the children's gifts on Christmas Eve.

Once upon a time, there was a man named Bob who worked as a mall Santa during the holiday season. However, Bob was not your typical jolly, generous, and kind Santa. In fact, he was the complete opposite - a grumpy, selfish, and mischievous Santa.

Bob's bad attitude and lack of holiday spirit were evident in his interactions with the children. When a little girl asked for a pony, Bob replied, "Why don't you ask for a unicorn while you're at it? That's just as likely to happen." And when a boy asked for a toy train, Bob grumbled, "I'll get you a broken train, that's what I'll do."

His antics didn't stop there. Bob would purposely give the wrong presents to children, like giving a Barbie doll to a boy and a toy truck to a girl. The parents were outraged, but Bob just laughed and said, "Hey, it's not my fault Santa's workshop is understaffed this year."

One day, Bob's boss called him into his office. "Bob, we've received numerous complaints about your behavior as Santa. You need to shape up or you're fired," his boss warned.

But Bob didn't care. In fact, he decided to take it up a notch. He started sneaking alcohol into his thermos and drinking it while on the job. The children could smell the alcohol on his breath, but Bob just shrugged and said, "It's cold in the North Pole, I need something to warm me up."

Despite his bad behavior, Bob still managed to attract a large crowd of children every day. They were drawn to his unconventional and unpredictable ways. He became known as the "Bad Santa" and even gained a following on social media.

On Christmas Eve, Bob showed up to work dressed in a Hawaiian shirt, shorts, and flip-flops. The parents were shocked, but the children loved it. Bob took them on a wild adventure, making snow angels in the fake snow and sledding down the escalators.

As the day came to an end, Bob's boss called him into his office once again. This time, he was prepared to fire him. But when he saw the joy and laughter on the children's faces, he couldn't bring himself to do it.

In the end, Bob may have been a bad Santa, but he brought happiness and laughter to those who needed it most. And that, my friends, is the true spirit of Christmas.

The cookies are out on the table and the milk is in the Christmas cup. Our kids are all nicely tucked into bed. So my wife grabs her wine glass and I grab my beer and we head to the living room to finish the Hallmark movie we started. It was actually pretty good, I enjoy the storyline. Sometime during the movie we ended up falling asleep cause here I am waking up with a crink in my neck. I get up and stretch while my eyes adjust to the dark. As I go to reach for my wife to carry her up to bed I notice she's gone. Confused, I head upstairs to see if maybe she had gone to bed and just didn't want to wake me. When I reach the landing I step in something wet, the dog must've peed in the house again. I peek my head into the kids rooms as I pass by and they're all sprawled out on their beds, which makes me laugh at what goofballs they are. All of a sudden this weird smell hits me like a freight train and I stumble back a little bit. I can't quite make it out, so I just shrug and make my way to the bathroom. After I take care of business I finally reach our room. I open the door, climb into bed, and snuggle up to my wife. She's freezing cold so I wrap the extra blanket around her and hold her tight as I fall asleep.

I wake up to find my wife still in bed, the sun is blaring in, and the clock reads 11 am! I jump out of bed and take the covers with me. I spin around to wake up my wife when I realize why she hasn't woken up. I scream, yes like a little baby, and run over to her while grabbing her into my arms. My beautiful wife's face had slashes across it like someone was trying to play X marks the spot. I sit there and cry for a minute before I remember the kids. Jumping up and grabbing my phone, I call 911 and run to the kids room. I slam the door open and find my kids chests both marked the same way my wife's face was. This can't be happening to me. Why would someone do this. My mind is racing as the 911 operator begins the usual line of questioning. All I manage to get out was, "Please you have to help me find who did this to my family."

I was walking from work back home in a dark ally. I lived in a neighborhood that had high crime. I never felt safe. The neighborhood looked haunted at night and almost like a ghost town. There was never any light or window light on that showed people home. It creeped me out. In the day, the neighborhood was nice with white fences and beautiful architecture but looked like a hunted ghost town at night. I turn the corner and come up behind a man in a Santa Claus costume. It was very surprising to me. I wondered where Satas reindeer sled was. I figured Santa works fast and delivers to everyone but walks on foot in dark ally sometimes. He looked back at me, and I got a good look at him that terrified me. He looked possessed. He also had the body frame of a bouncer at a club or could be the leader of a biker gang. I always pictured Santa giving a gift, smiling, and not smelling like Tequila, as I could smell him as I followed. He looked like the Santa that robbed you and dipped the cookies in a glass of Jack Daniels. He was dragging a bag. I felt intimated as he looked at me, and I wanted to give him a candy cane to make his angry brows happy. He stopped and turned around. I had a heart attack, threw all my money toward him, and ran. He yelled, Don’t be afraid, I love Christmas. I am just homeless. He yelled, Merry Christmas! I stopped and turned around. I realized I should never judge a book by its cover because he was just a homeless man in the holiday spirit.

“Daaaad,” Charlie whined. “I don’t wanna do this!”

“Too bad,” his father said. “It’s the family tradition.”

Charlie sighed in exasperation as he tugged on the red suit with white fluffy trim.

“I look stupid.”

His dad smiled and chuckled his iconic laugh.

“C’mon,” Charlie’s dad said, jerking his head towards the waiting sleigh.

Charlie trudged towards the sleigh, hefting the sack of presents into the back. Once they both got settled, Charlie’s dad commanded the reindeer to go, go, go!

Charlie’s stomach churned, as it always did when the sleigh was tugged into the sky. His dad let out a merry “Ho, ho, ho!” as they flew.

Throughout the night, Charlie’s dad delivered presents with practiced ease and finesse as Charlie looked on. Finally, towards the end of the night, his dad gave Charlie a few presents.

“Now, it’s your turn to try son.”

Charlie took a deep breath, gathering his courage. Trying to imitate his dad, he dropped the presents down the chimney… or rather, tried to.

Instead, he went tumbling over the edge of the sleigh, landing square on his back. He laid still for a moment on this person’s roof, unable to breathe. He heard a window open and he saw a little child’s head pop out. Charlie winced as the child let out an ear-piercing squeal.

“Santa!” The child shrieked.

Charlie made haste, dumping the fallen presents down the chimney and jumping back into the sleigh where his dad sat watching in dismay.

“Well, maybe next year, son,” he said encouragingly.

Charlie just sighed.