Yeah, he looks all bad-ass, but he's really a child molester.
Christmas is a time for exchanging your favorite Marky-Mark movies and snuggling up next to your best lady friend. Unfortunately, there exists assholes in this world who would seek to ruin that shit for ya'll, and one of the biggest is the Krampus. The Krampus is a demon who follows Santa Claus around like a loser bro, stealing children and generally making an asshole of himself. He ain't supposed to be around kids, if you know what I'm saying, although the many attempts to prosecute him have basically gone nowhere, since Hell has a crack legal team, both living and dead. Now, a lot of folks don't believe in the Krampus, which I can't blame them. He doesn't appear that much, and only seeks to capture the worst kids. He picks and chooses his targets, is what I'm saying. So if little Billy has been really bad this year, working on a rap sheet to rival 50 Cent, well, if you want to keep his ass, you better perform some preparations so that he don't end up in the basket of an eight-foot tall goat demon.
First things first: seal all the entrances to your home before Christmas Eve. That means nailing windows shut, barring doors, covering chimneys. Put little Billy in a dog cage if you have to, but just make sure that thing's got a good lock on it, though I hear the Krampus usually carries a pair of bolt cutters 'cause he's that kind of bro. Make the place a fortress, at least for one night. Then little Billy can go back to being a fucker.
Second, get yourself a loaded weapon, preferably something heavy-caliber. The Krampus may be an eternal goat-demon, but he still feels pain, and a .50 caliber slug in his ass will certainly make him less-liable to go kidnapping little Billy. Shoot the dude in the groin to really get him moving--that shit takes forever to grow back, and it'll put in end to his Christmas festivities, the fucking perv. For extra effect, have a priest bless your firearm. If you're Jewish, have a rabbi, since they still count, Trent claims.
Thirdly, have several big-ass cats, all mean as shit. Cats hate demons, since demons smell like giant rats, and many a Christmas kidnapping has been foiled by a crazy old cat lady's brood. Get like five or six tom cats, and I guarantee little Billy will see another year.
Fourthly, you can always call your local paranormal society. If they're anywhere as competent as me and my boys, you'll be in good hands. We charge competitive rates, but we guarantee results. Keep that in mind, jabronis.
Fifthly, have a Merry Christmas, motherfuckers! Drink that egg nog and groove to the beats of the funky bunch like God intended. Peace, yo.
No comments:
Post a Comment