Bwah ha ha! The Christmas insanity continues!
*Enjoy!*
*****
Prologue:
It all began with some ordinary killer cardboard boxes. Some very evil ordinary killer cardboard boxes. Some very evil, devious, killer cardboard boxes. Killer cardboard boxes of pure malfeasance.
Delivered to the doorsteps of unsuspecting victims by UPS, (United Parcels for Satan) the killer cardboard boxes ruined the lives of their recipients, by delivering to them the one thing that is feared by all mankind…
…Fruitcake…
*****
Clarice was surprised to find the completely innocent-looking, but entirely devious, cardboard box on her doorstep.
"Hannibal! Look at this! UPS left us a package!" she cried gleefully.
Hannibal poked his head out from the kitchen to look warily at the devious box.
"Be careful, Clarice! That box looks devious!" he called, bringing a knife from the kitchen, just in case.
Clarice laughed.
"Hannibal, darling, how can a box look devious?"
"I don't know, my dear. You'll just have to trust me on this one," he answered.
Clarice took the knife from his hand. She used it to open the box. Once it was opened, a sickly sweet odor thickened the air.
Hannibal's eyes widened in horror. Clarice wrinkled her nose in disgust.
"What is that stagnant aroma?" she queried.
Hannibal looked into the box. Clarice did the same. Carefully, he removed from it a holiday tin. Taking the knife from Clarice, he pried open the lid.
Inside was a devious fruitcake.
"Gagh!" cried Hannibal, dropping the tin. "It's a devious fruitcake!"
The fruitcake quivered.
Clarice gasped.
"D…did it…move?" she whispered.
The fruitcake quivered again.
"RUN CLARICE!" screamed Hannibal!
The fruitcake leapt into the air, and did a triple axle. Clarice screamed in terror! The fruitcake flew at her, and knocked her on her back!
Hannibal went after it with the knife, but the fruitcake giggled and dodged.
"Damn you, you devious fruitcake!" he snapped, his eyes glowing red.
Clarice ran upstairs to get her gun. The sinister fruitcake chased after her! The gun sat on her nightstand, and she grabbed it quickly. The corrupted fruitcake leapt into the air, flying at her head! Clarice ducked with perfect timing. The putrescent fruitcake hit the wall behind her.
Hannibal burst through the doorway!
"Shoot it, Clarice!" he screamed.
Clarice shot it. Clarice shot it good.
The torpid fruitcake emitted a squeak of horror, quivered grotesquely, and died. It died really dead.
Hannibal approached the deceased fruitcake cautiously.
It didn't move.
He poked it.
It still didn't move.
He poked it again, harder.
"Hey Clarice! This is fun!" he said.
Poke, poke, and poke.
"That's disgusting!" cried Clarice, both horrified and mesmerized by the gelatinous nature of the inert fruitcake.
Suddenly, the holes in the immortal fruitcake began to regenerate before their very eyes.
Hannibal sprang back in panic.
"It appears to be recuperating!" he gasped in dismay.
"Quick!" screamed Clarice. "Get the lid from downstairs!" She aimed her gun at the indestructible fruitcake, preparing to shot it again if need be.
Hannibal ran downstairs, grabbed the lid, and scrambled back up again! Bursting into the room, he slammed the lid on the ominous fruitcake, which was just beginning to twitch.
He reached behind him and yanked from beneath the bed…a blowtorch, which he kept just in case of emergencies.
In no time, Hannibal had soldered the tin shut, while Clarice held it at gunpoint.
The enraged fruitcake thrashed inside its confinement, but to no avail.
Both Clarice and Hannibal sighed in relief.
"What do we do with it now?" asked Hannibal, looking at the tin distastefully.
Clarice thought for a moment, then smiled.
"I have an idea…"
*****
Paul Krendler sat at his desk, flipping through a copy of Playboy.
There was a knock at the door of his office, which he promptly answered; hoping it was Miss December.
It was a box. An evil box. An evil devious box, delivered by the one and only UPS…
Paul ripped the box open quickly!
Inside was a Christmas tin, the edges of which were well soldered.
Because Paul was stupid, the fact that the tin's edges were soldered made no impression on him. Walking back to his desk, he found a nail file, and pried open the lid.
"Oooooh!" cried Paul. "A fruitcake!"
*****
Wow, I have warped brain. Watch out for fruitcakes! They're evil, I tell ya! ~Coffee