Disclaimer: I don't own The Simpsons.
"Okay, Marge!" Homer said cheerily to his wife. "I'm going to fill up the kids' stockings with their gifts!"
"Sure, Homie," Marge answered as she gave her husband a baffled stare. "But why are you doing it dressed like that?"
The head of the Simpsons family was dressed in a red cloak which only just managed to fit around his large stomach. A matching red hat with a white ball of fluff on its pointed end sat on his bald head. His face was half-hidden away by the false beard he had put on - but even that was not enough to stop anyone from foil anyone from seeing that the person in the Santa outfit was clearly Homer.
"Because it's Christmas l, of course!" Homer said cheerily. "If the kids happen to wake up and see me leaving their gifts, they'll obviously think I'm Santa Claus!"
"They won't fall for it, Homer!" Marge warned.
"Ha! We'll just see about that!"
With overconfidence filling his big yet empty head, Homer picked up a sack full of toys that was sitting on the floor. He grunted from how heavy it was as he slung it over his shoulder. He began to creep up the staircase, leaving Marge alone in the decorated living room to grunt to herself at her husband's scatterbrained logic.
Once he reached the upper floor, Homer crossed over to Bart's bedroom door. He pushed it open with a creak. Light from the hallway crept through to allow him to see his ten-year old son laying asleep in bed.
Homer entered Bart's bedroom, finding the boy's stocking hanging from the door handle. He was about to preparing to start filling it with toys from the sack - which proved to be too heavy for him as it dragged him down to the floor where he fell with a crash.
"D'oh!"
The sound of his father's catchphrase made Bart open his eyes. At once, he saw the large figure dressed in red sitting on his bedroom floor - but was not convinced in the slightest he was looking at Santa Claus.
"Homer?"
Homer froze upon hearing Bart speak to him. He hadn't even started filling his stocking and already his son had woken up. He peered towards the boy sitting upright in bed. Eager to put on his festival charade for him, he quickly stood before him, putting on a smile behind his fake beard.
"D'oh? Did I say d'oh?!" he said loudly. "I meant to say ho! Ho Ho Ho! Merry Christmas, Bart! It's me, Santa Claus!"
Bart smirked, not fooled in the slightest. He knew perfectly well it was Homer in the Santa outfit. Even Maggie would have been able to tell it was their father.
"Why, gee! Of course it's you, Santa!" Bart said, deciding to play along. "I mean after all, you're so fat!"
"Fat?!" Homer repeated the word his son had called him with shock, but only just managed to keep control of himself. "Why yes, of course, Bart! Everyone knows Santa is fat!"
"Yeah, I didn't expect you to be as fat as my Dad!" Bart said slyly. "I mean, after all, Homer is really fat!"
"Now, boy, you shouldn't talk about your father that way!" Homer muttered through gritted teeth. "After all, he's been working very hard to make sure you have a nice Christmas!"
"The only thing my Dad's been working hard at is stuffing his face with donuts!" Bart snickered. "It makes up for having no brain in his empty head!"
"I'm serious, boy, you should be a lot more respectful to your father." Homer stepped towards Bart, slipping his hands behind his back where he clenched them into fists. "Christmas is the time of the year for being nice andkind, so you should follow your dad's example and be-ARRRGGGHHHH!"
Homer was cut off as he let out a loud scream. He had stepped onto Bart's skateboard, which had been laying on the floor in the dark. He was thrown upwards with sack flying out of his hand. A loud crash filled the room as he struck the floor, where the toys came down one-by-one in his head.
"Ooh! Ow! D'oh!"
"Gee, you really are like my dad, Santa!" Bart burst into hysterical laughter. "You're not just fat; you're also a dofus! Hah hah hah!"
"WHY YOU LITTLE!"
Unable to control himself any longer, Homer angrily grabbed Bart by his neck and started to strangle his son. The boy stopped laughing at once as he was being choked by his father, whose Christmas spirit had been replaced with rage.
Neither of them noticed a figure standing in the doorway. Lisa had woken up and gotten out of bed to find out what was causing all the noise in the house. What a shock the eight-year old had to see her older brother being strangled by a certain bearded figure in a red cloak.
"Moooooooom!" Lisa called. "Santa Claus is trying to kill Bart!"
Down in the lounge, Marge rolled her eyes upon hearing her daughter's yelling. It could only mean her husband and son were getting into scraps again. Bart must have seen right through Homer's ruse to pretend to be Santa - which she had perfectly predicted would happen.
As Lisa helplessly watched her brother getting attacked by 'Santa', not knowing what to do to save him, Snowball II came by. The cat peered into Bart's bedroom. Like the little girl, the feline also surprised to see the boy being throttled by a figure in a red cloak - not realising it was Homer doing it.
"Bart's in trouble!" Lisa shouted to her beloved pet as she pointed to the man attacking her brother. "Go get him, kitty!"
As if understanding Lisa's words, Snowball II hissed as she charged at Homer. The cat took a leap at him as she bared her teeth and claws, all of which she brutally sunk into him as she landed onto his back.
"ARRRRRGGGGGHHHHHH!" Homer shrieked in agony, letting go of Bart as he tried to shake Snowball II away from him while wailing and screaming. "GET OFF OF ME, CAT! GET OFF! BAD KITTY!"
Bart coughed and sat up on the bed and observed his father being attacked while Lisa observed from the doorway. The girl still believed it was Santa Claus while the boy knew it was their father. Neither of them did anything to help him as they watched him getting scratched and bitten by the cat.
As Homer continued to try unsuccessfully to get Snowball II off of him, he saw another animal enter the room, watching what he was going through with widening eyes.
"HELP ME, BOY! GET THIS STUPID CAT OFF OF ME! HELP MEEEEEEEEEE!"
The dog sat on the bedroom floor and did nothing. He silently watched Homer being clawed at and gnawed on by the cat. He didn't make a single move to help his owner dressed as Santa…
…which was ironic, since the Simpsons had happened to name their dog Santa's Little Helper.
The end.