'Tis the season to be jolly...at least if you're not incarcerated. Bob wasn't looking forward to anything that the prison had planned for this year. He'd been totally passed over for a role in the prison production of A Christmas Carol, despite having far more talent than any of the other thugs in this hellhole, and he predicted that he wouldn't get any visitors...not that Bob cared. He'd never liked Christmas all that much. As a child, Bob had watched the same sappy specials on TV year after year, his father always had to work on Christmas, due to all sorts of patients being admitted to his hospital with holiday-related injuries and illnesses, Bob and Cecil had been forced to endure awkward Christmas dinners with elderly relatives and annoying cousins they barely knew, etc. Nothing would make this Christmas anything special, unless Bob got his wish to kill Bart Simpson. So far, that didn't appear likely.
Out of the corner of Bob's eye, he saw Snake take a look at a homemade card with a poorly drawn Christmas tree on it. This was obviously from Snake's son Jeremy, and Bob willed himself to fall asleep before Snake could start gushing about the boy again, lest he turn green as a Christmas tree with the envy he felt.
Sighing, Bob shoved his copy of A Christmas Carol off his pillow and lay down. He could now relate more to Ebenezer Scrooge, as they'd both lost loved ones due to fatal flaws: greed for Scrooge, and vengeance for Bob.
"Hey, Bob, look what I got from Gloria!"
Opening his eyes halfway, Bob saw that it was a large fruitcake. His only response was an "Ugh."
"Not the fruitcake, stupid!" Snake stuck his hand into the cake and pulled out a saw.
That made Bob's face light up. "Of course! Fruitcake is the one Christmas food that those gluttonous guards would never touch; a perfect hiding place for escape tools!"
"Yeah, yeah," Snake said impatiently; he'd already begun work on cutting the bars. "Are you busting out with me or not?"
Sideshow Bob smirked. "If that's your Christmas present, then I gladly accept."