Gaaargh, it was the night before Christmas and was all peaceful, quieter than a mouse… Too quiet, so we turned our cannons to the sky and blasted away to celebrate the season. The balls split the Christmassy mist with a satisfying boom.
There was a crash way up in the air. Moments later, we had a portly chap dressed in red and white, sitting on a grimly mangled stack of funny looking horses, surrounded by charred gifts. He wasn’t best pleased.
We’d been bad. Father Christmas now had no reindeer to bring cheer to the little ones. Gaargh. Grumpily, he gathered presents from all over the ship and stuffed them back into his sack.
Meanwhile, we glued the reindeers’ horns (because that’s where the magic comes from!) onto some turkeys we’d been roasting for next day. They looked cracking with horns on. To get em started, we chained his new turkeydeers to a pair of cannon balls, and lit the fuses.
They flew like a charm, launching turkeys, sleigh and Santa into the night sky. But I had failed to notice that, along with the presents, Santa had taken a box of gunpowder, which the lads bought me for Christmas…
With a jolly cry of “Ho, ho, oh god, we’re going to–“ the sleigh exploded. It was very pretty.
Presents rained down on chimney pots across the land, bringing joy to children everywhere – some got toys, or bits of wood, and others a pretty drumstick, or Santa’s leg. It all worked out in the end.
Have yourself a Merry Christmas!
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