Santa Clause knew that something wasn't right. As he entered the old house, every hair on his neck stood up. It was as if something was watching him. Something... dark. Something... evil.
"It's just nerves." he said to himself. "I'm just a little paranoid on account of them goddamn commies shootin' a missile at me over Cuba. Those sons-of-bitches. I'm never goin' there again."
As Santa started placing the gifts carefully under the lit up tree, he was startled by a creaking floorboard behind him. When he turned around, there stood a little boy who couldn't be more then four or five years old.
"Holy shit!" Santa yelled. "You scared the hell outta me, kid."
"Gee, Santa, I'm awfully sorry." said the little boy, with no emotion in his voice.
Santa noticed the blank look on the kid's face. Blank. Pale. Emotionless. Almost evil.
"Jesus Christ, kid." Santa said. "What the hell's wrong with you? You on dope or somethin'?"
"Santa, I've got a secret to tell you, come closer," said the little boy.
As Santa bent down to listen to what the strange little boy had to tell him, he noticed the kid's face had twisted into something no longer human. But it was too late. Santa felt the fangs enter his neck. He didn't even have time to scream. In moments, it was over. The kid looked at the floor at Santa's lifeless body and grinned.
"Now I'll just wait until that damn Easter Bunny comes."