Saturday, December 20, 2014

Meet Krampus

Dear Readers

As I hastily type these words the realization hits me that they may be my last. I can’t help but cast weary glances behind me, as a cold draught claws, persistently at my nape with its chilly clutch. Try as I may, search as I might, its origin remains a mystery in this well insulated house.

I hate to admit but I’ve been naughty this year, quite possibly the reason for this feeling of unholy fear, which deepens as Christmas day draws near.

Night rode in swiftly on that freezing day as my girlfriend and I snuggled into bed hoping for a pleasant and perennial sleep. Silence reigned all through the house; nothing made a sound, not even a mouse. Well nothing except my snoring spouse, and the incessant whirring of the radiator, which by now was nothing more than a lullaby to us. But suddenly I was jarred awake by a faint clamoring coming from downstairs. The noise became louder as I crept down step by step. Approaching the living room; it was now more distinct than ever. I knew the sound to be of chains rattling against each other.

I peered in to see, a figure hunched over our Christmas tree. He sneered and snickered gleefully and pranced towards our Christmas stocking. It was then that I knew this prick, simply couldn’t be jolly Saint Nick. To say I was revolted and wracked with repulsion, wouldn’t be enough of a justification. Here I was trying to reduce my carbon footprint and he was literally stuffing coals in my socks. The Bastard! I would have none of it.

“Oi Asshole” I shouted intrepidly at him, but when he turned around I almost screamed. For in front of me there stood, half man, half goat, a hideous beast in full.

Horns like pikes burgeoned upon his head; jagged yellow teeth in his gums were imbedded.He had no feet but hefty hooves instead, his glowing red eyes stared at me, dead. Stomping emphatically he trimmed the distance between us. He was so close I could smell on him the putrid stench of rotting corpses, leaning in he whispered with foul breath that he was none other than the infamous krampus.

“Who?” I asked for I didn’t know, I had not seen nor heard of this creature before.

He gasped in shock and disbelief, and proceeded to throw a hissy fit. He reminded me of a hip hop artist with a melodramatic flair, failing his chains, barring his teeth and giving me a pretentious glare. Finally exhausted he flopped down onto a chair, and said “Let me tell you who I am”.  “Please sit “he brazenly offered, a seat in my own home, the audacity of this unwelcome monster. I didn’t know then but soon it would dawn, that I had agreed to an interview with this devil spawn.

This beast was apparently a part of European folklore, one of the things he mentioned as he began to pour, not only details but drool on my hardwood floor. I knew what he was getting for Christmas, a big fat bill for this vile mess; I must remember to ask him his address.

There was a catch in his throat as he spoke of Hel, his mother dearest; it would seem that even demons have feelings.  Sorrow soon turned to bitterness, as he was reminded of Saint Nicholas. “You glorify that pudgy oaf lacking of class, when it should be me you celebrate and commercialize, I’m badass”. It was clear by the statement that he desperately sought, to amend his mummy’s disappointment and be adored.

“He pampers prissy children with materialistic gifts, while I teach naughty brats the hardships of life with my stick” He said as he gave his cracked lips a quick lick. Evidently he drags kids to his lair, and does things bordering on pedophilia. With his bells, chains and ruten cane, you could tell this sick freak was into some hardcore S &M, which would put the contents of fifty shades of grey to shame.

He was telling me about Krampusnacht and how Germans were the best, when we heard the sound of another pair of heavy footsteps. In strode my girlfriend clad in her nightly wear.Krampus’tongue lolled out at the sight of a lady with such debonair ,despite her lack of makeup and bedraggled hair.  “She must be on the nice list, it’s only apropos” ,nudging me the beast cackled “Santa does have a weakness for HO, HO, HOES” 

I knew in that instant this wouldn't end good,it was bad enough that he was wagging his tongue not to mention sporting wood, but he crossed a line when he implied my better half was a prostitute. By the horns, Krampus was thrown, out into the snow, in a manner which almost dislocated his hip bone. Not the first such experience he’s had with a woman scorned, I’m sure.
Thus was concluded my interview, with Krampus the indecent and raunchy ghoul.


The extra "S" wasn’t an accident

and neither is the weight you put on during the holidays


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