Chapter 8 - Santa Claus

The next morning, Stewie, Brian and Barbara continued their journey to the North Pole on foot. This day was much rougher than the day before. They were cold. They were tired. They were hungry. Stewie refused to give up his quest to kill Santa.

"Are you sure we aren't lost?" Barbara shivered.

"I don't know where we are", Brian said. "It's hopeless. We're going to die out here."

Stewie ignored them as they pressed on further north.

"I'm so cold", Barbara said. "I don't know how much further I can go."

"Brian, Barbara, look!"

In front of them was a giant wall with a red and white stripped gate.

"My god", Stewie said. "We made it! The North Pole! See? Boom! Right there! I told you! This is where Santa Claus lives! In your face!"

"I don't believe it", Brian said. "It's here."

"Damn right it's here!"

"It's real", Barbara said. "Well if Santa is really here I have a few things to say to that fat man about leaving me in hell!"

Stewie ran ahead to open the gate. As he pushed the giant doors open, he Brian and Barbara were met with an ugly site. The North Pole was nothing but a gloomy factory with smoke pouring out of the smokestacks.

"This can't be it", Stewie said. "This can't be Santa's workshop. This looks like Bridgeport, Connecticut."

"Oh boy", Brian said rolling his eyes. "Get ready for the letters."

A fat man sat at his desk writing his rants.

"Dear Family Guy Bastards, Who the hell do you think you are?! I'll have you know that Bridgeport is among the world leaders in abandoned buildings, shattered glass, boarded-up windows, wild dogs and gas stations without pumps. So eat my (bleep), Jew writers!"

"I don't care about the letters", Barbara said. "What happened here? I thought this place was supposed to be cheerful."

"Whatever sort of trick this is, I will not be deterred!" Stewie said marching up to the workshop. "I'm not leaving until Santa Claus is dead by my hand!"

He knocked on the door and held out his gun for whoever answered. The door slowly opened to reveal Santa Claus himself. He looked horrible. His skin looked a pale yellow. He was incredibly thin.

"Oh my god", Brian gasped. "You're Santa Claus."

"Yeah", he answered. "Who are you?"

"I'm Stewie Griffin. And I'm going to kill you!"

To everyone's surprise, Santa sighed in relief.

"Oh, thank god!"

"What?" Stewie asked confused.

"Do it!" Santa said getting to his knees. "Please! Put me out of my misery!"

"You want me to kill you?"

He grabbed the gun and put the barrel in his mouth.

"Come on! What are you waiting for? Pull the trigger!"

"Well, there isn't a great deal of sport in that", Stewie said pulling the gun away.

Santa started wheezing and coughing hard. Brian and Barbara gasped as he collapsed face down in the snow.