Father Christmas was in a jolly good mood because he was under the impression that he’d got away with stealing £5,000,000 from off of the Triads.
“This is the best day of my life,” he laffed, as he sat in a hot tub with his best friends Roy the Bear and John Kittens and a load of sexy birds with their big tits out. Everyone was drinking champagne and having a great time. “Those stupid Chinese bastards will never find us because they don’t know where the North Pole is in China, probably,” Father Christmas added, incorrectly.
“I reckon we should get one of them flat screen TVs,” said Roy the Bear. “One of the really big ones where you can see everything. I’ve got a load of porn videos in the van and they would look fucking cracking on one of them big flat screen TVs.”
Father Christmas agreed. “I agree with this,” he agreed. “We could also watch a video I made last year of me and Mrs. Christmas fu-”
Just then, a load of Chinese Triads burst into the hot tub room. The sexy birds with the big tits started kicking up a right stink, so the leader of the Triads, Ching Chong, shot them all in the face with his machine gun. This made John Kittens shit himself.
Shit himself in a hot tub, mind. Doesn’t bear thinking about, that.
“YOU THERE!” shouted Ching Chong. “FUCKING BEAR! WHERE MY MONEY?”
Roy the Bear jumped out of the hot tub and made a run for it, but the Triads caught him and cut his fucking fingers off.
“AAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRGGGGH!” bellowed Roy the Bear.
“WHERE MY FUCKING MONEY?”
Roy the Bear was in too much pain to say anything, so Ching Chong shot him in the face with his machine gun. Realising he was probably next, John Kittens went for his nunchucks, but you don’t fuck with the Chinese when it comes to nunchucks because they invented ‘em. After getting a good hiding from off of a load of Chineses in a nunchucks fight, Ching Chong held John Kittens down and cut his fucking fingers off.
“F-F-F-F-FAAAAAAAAAAAAAACKIN’ ‘ELL ME FACKIN’ FINGERS!” screamed John Kittens.
“WHERE MY FUCKING MONEY?” That was Ching Chong again. He wasn’t letting this go.
“I DON’T KNOW WHERE YOUR FACKIN’ MONEY IS, YOU CU-”
Ching Chong shot John Kittens in the face with his machine gun and then turned his attention to Father Christmas.
“You can’t cut my fingers off!” protested Father Christmas. “I need them to deliver presents to all the children of the world!”
“YAAAAAAAAARGH! AAAAAAARRRGGGH!” wailed Father Christmas, as the Triads cut all his fucking fingers off. So that didn’t work.
“YOU TELL WHERE YOU HIDE MY FUCKING MONEY CHRISTMAS DEMON!” shouted Ching Chong. He didn’t care about all the children of the world because he was a violent criminal.
“GAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGGGGH!” replied Father Christmas. So Ching Chong shot him in the face. With his machine gun.
Five minutes later, the Triads found the bag with their money in it and fucked off back to China. The following day – which was Christmas Day – was a load of shit for all the children of the world because there were no presents because Father Christmas had been shot in the face in a hot tub.
Merry Christmas, children!
THE END
Napoleon's Landfill 