It was the night before Christmas and all through the house Duke Nukem could be heard snoring loudly. The sound was so loud that had anyone else been around they would have thought that the whole place was about to collapse in on its self.

He was nestled comfortably on his couch covered in a plethera of empty beer cans, a whiskey bottle, and several cigars, they were the remains of a solo pre-Christmas celebration. All of a sudden his peaceful slumber was interrupted by the sound of a large crash outside on his front lawn. The noise jarred him awake destroying the wierd alcohol induced dream that he was having about dancing sugar plumbs.

Duke immediatly sat up and swept aside the pile of detritus that had adorned his sleeping form. Once clear of the obstructions he stood up, grabbed the shotgun that he had left leaning against the coffee table, and then made his way past the fireplace and Christmas tree to the window facing the front lawn.

He slowly opened the blinds and surved the situation outside. There, underneath a large tree and half covered in snow were what appeared to be the remnants of a large red sleigh with rocket engines attached to each side. On top of the wreckage sat a lone stunned pig, holding a machine gun and dressed up in a red furry coat and a hat with a little ball on top. Two other similarly dressed pigs were running toward the house on two legs and armed with shotguns.

"Stupid pigs." Duke mumbled to himself with a grimace. "Now they're trying to ruin Christmas." He cocked his shotgun. "Guess I'll have to teach them a lesson on holiday spirit."

No sooner had the words escaped his lips than a scratching sound appeared on the roof. The noise made its way toward the chimney. At the same time the pig oustide, unaware that it had been spotted, slinked toward the front door with its machine gun.

Duke moved away from the window and took cover behind the sofa. Meanwhile the scratching from the roof grew louder as it approached the chimney, then stopped momentarily.

Then, all of a sudden a pig, dressed similarly to the one outside dropped straight down the chimney landing akwardly on the pile of unburnt logs that was resting there. No sooner had he hit the bottom of the fireplace then he was dispatched with a direct hit from Duke's shotgun.

"Guess now you're the ghost of Christmas past." He quipped, adding a few fresh bullets into his weapon.

Just then a small round object fell down the chimney and landed next to the corpse of the freshly extermininated santa pig. As soon as it hit the ground it exploded knocking the couch, and Duke with it, backward several feet.

At the same time, amidst the confligration, two more pigs showed up. One dropped from the chimney and the other burst through the front door wielding its machine gun. Instantly the room was showered in a hail of bullets.

Duke pushed the sofa off of him. Still clutching his shotgun, he crawled over to one side. There was just enough cover between the end of the furniture and the wall to allow a perfect line of sight with the pig in the chimney. The beefy defender of Christmas took aim and squeezed the trigger.

CLICK

Nothing happened. He tried again.

CLICK

"Jammed" Duke observed between a flurry of curse words. He pounded the weapon on fhe floor in frustration then discarded it by hurling it out toward the invading pork. Now he needed a new weaopon. If only he had decided to sleep in the bedroom which was stocked full of muntions. As it was he was stuck without any weapon at all. Something he never expected to happen.

The bullets continued to fly overhead as Duke gropped around for something, anything, that could be used as a weapon. Finally his hand came to rest on the neck of a discarded whiskey bottle. Somehow it was intact and had survived the onslaught.

He grabbed the makeshift weapon and then waited for the pig at the door to stop and reload. It was the best oppertunity he had. He stood up and hurled the bottle at the invader. The pig in the chimney took the advantage to fire off a shotgun round but missed by a mile.

The bottle impacted the walking ham, at the door, directly between the eyes. It had nearly the same effect as if the victim had taken the time to drink the contents of the bottle rather than being assulted with it. The pig let out a loud squeal as its eyes rolled back into its head. Then it fell unconscious and bloody half on the welcome mat and half across the threshold inside the house.

The other pig, continued to fire its shotgun into the sofa. Duke laid low just under the incomming fire. He was still weaponless and there was only one place he could think of to get another one.

He crawled to other side of the couch and began to push it toward what had, only minutes ago, been his Christmas tree. It was now a flaming hunk of wood. The gifts, that had been carefully stacked underneath were now scattered far and wide.

Nonetheless, upon completing the distance to the tree, Duke reached out for anything that he could get his hands on. The first was a small package in blue wrapping paper and a red bow. It was mangled and singed. A small tag on the side read, "To Dukey from Mom." The nickname made him blush slightly. He hated it when she called him that. The embarassment only lasted a moment, however, as he regarded the condition of the present. It was a mass of half chared, half flaming, packaging. What ever had been inside was sure to be destroyed.

A stream of curses escaped the man's mouth. "I can't believe you blew up my mother's present." He yelled. "Now, I'm really gonna make you pay."

With that, he carefully discarded the chared gift and reached for another. This one was a little further out but was still within arms length. It was wrapped in orange paper and was much more intact than the previous package.

The santa pig took advantage of the exposed arm and fired, only missing by a few inches. It took a step closer but missed again. Duke was able to get his hands on the gift and pulled to safty behind the sofa.

He quickly glanced at the label. "To Duke, with love, from Lara."

A small smirk appeared on the man's lips as he tore into the packaging. Inside was a small wooden box with another note attached to the top.

"Father Christmas wanted you to have this." It read.

Duke reached inside and pulled out the wooden box. Discarding the note and the outer packaging he opened the container revealing a brand new desert eagle sitting on a red velvet pillow beside two clips of ammo.

"Merry Christmas to me." He chuckled as picked up the weapon and instered a clip. "And to you," he adressed the invading pig, "all a good night."

He stood up and fired at the santa pig. There was a loud squeal as the animal flew backward and landed on the harth of the fireplace. Duke abandoned his cover and triumphantly made his way across to the still unconsious pig at the door. He finished it off with a single round to the head.

He placed the weapon into the waist band of his pants and turned around to survey the damage. The room looked like it had been part of the opening of World War III. Bullet holes lined the walls, the sofa was practically non-existant, the tree was on fire and there was blood everywhere. Even so, he couldn't help but think that this was one the more memorable Christmases.

He walked back into the room and picked up a cigar off of the floor. It was one of a batch that had been strewn across the room during the battle. He lit it with still flaming remains of the Christmas tree in the corner. As he took a few satisfactory puffs he couldn't help but notice random pieces of a nativity set laying around amongst the rubble. He picked up the baby Jesus piece and set it in the center of the mantle over the fireplace then took a few more puffs from the cigar.

With one more look around the destroyed room he smiled. "Hail to the king, baby."