Timmy, but not quite
Author’s note to all four of my Timmy fans. Timmy is not in this story, but trust me this is part of the Timmy series. Just bear with me everyone.
Christmas Eve Disaster
One Christmas, Santa had to fly without Rudolph. Poor Rudolph had come down with pneumonia, so he was unable to lead Santa and his team of reindeer.
On Christmas Eve Santa was flying over the Appalachians in Tennessee, when it suddenly became very foggy. “Wonderful,” Santa thought to himself, “Now I’m going to have to land and wait for this fog to clear. Luckily I’m done with my deliveries for the year.”
After finding a clearing, Santa guided his sleigh to the ground. Once he landed, Santa lit his pipe and sat back in the sleigh to relax. He just starting to doze off when he heard a gunshot. Santa sat up and saw Dasher lying on the ground. The rest of the reindeer were trying to take off when suddenly gunshots rang out from all around, and within seconds Santa’s entire team of reindeer had been killed. Santa leaped off of his sleigh to see if any of his reindeer survived the attack, but he was hit over the head with the butt of a shotgun.
Hours later, Santa regained consciousness. He was in a small dimly lit room, which contained a bed, a wooden stool and a large mirror on the ceiling and there was a single door in the room. He was tied down spread-eagle on his back, and he was naked. As Santa was looking up at the mirror, he noticed that he had been completely shaved bald. His hair, beard and mustache and all his body hair had been shaved clean. As Santa was lying there pondering his fate, the door opened and two men walked into the room. Both men were wearing bib overalls and leather work boots. Neither of them were wearing shirts underneath their bibs. But, that was where any similarities between the two men ended. The first man was at least 6ft 5in tall, and was skinny as an African refugee. He was completely bald, and when he smiled he had no teeth. The other man was 5ft 3in tall and weighed about 250 pounds. He had long greasy shoulder length hair and when he smiled, the scum on his teeth was so thick you could scrape it off with a knife and use as butter. Upon entering the room, both men removed their clothes and walked towards Santa.
“Who are you and what right do you have bringing me here?” asked Santa.
Both men just looked at each other and smiled. “I demand that you let me go!” Santa yelled. The rednecks started to laugh. “Did ya hear that Billy ray, Santy here wants us to let him go?”
“I shore did Billy bob.” Replied Billy ray. Billy ray was the tall one and Billy bob was the tubby one.
“Well,” said Billy bob “I reckon that when we’re done with you we’ll let ya go. But until then your ass belongs to us and lemme tell ya we aims to git a lot of use on it.” Ain’t that right Billy ray?”
“That’s right Billy bob.”
“What do mean my ass is yours and you intend to get a lot of use out of it?” Santa asked with some apprehension.
“I guess we’ll just have to show ya,” said Billy ray.
The two hillbillies converged on Santa. Billy ray reached under the bed and brought out a duffle bag. He pulled out a roll of duct tape, a can of bacon grease and a large buck knife. Billy bob reached under the other side of the bed and brought out a double barreled shotgun. Billy ray put a piece of tape over Santa’s mouth then cut the ropes holding Santa in place. “Now you listen up good Santy, you just roll over on yer belly and put yer ass in the air. If ya don’t then I’m gonna blow yer balls off.”
Santa reluctantly did what he was told. “Good thing we saved this here bacon grease right Billy bob?”
“That’s right Billy ray.” The two perverts cackled, let out a rebel yell, smeared the bacon grease all over Santa’s ass, and then went to work on him.
Two miles east of the hillbilly farm three Blackhawk helicopters full of elven rangers were flying at treetop level racing to the rescue. The pilot of the lead chopper keyed his mike. “We’re one minute out Major.”
“Copy,” replied Major Smelf the Elf. “Who ever slaughtered Santa’s reindeer and took Santa is about to get the balls kicked up through their teeth.” The rest of the elven rangers looked up at Smelf and smiled in agreement. The choppers reached the farm and hovered two feet off the ground. Within seconds the elven rangers were out and moving towards their targets. Elves converged on the farmhouse and the shack where Santa was being held captive. The elves were armed with Uzi 9mm and MP 5 submachine guns. Gun shots erupted from the farmhouse and one elf went down. The remaining elves on the assault team threw concussion grenades through the windows, entered the farmhouse and made short work of the occupants.
As Santa was lying on his stomach, quivering with fear, rage and humiliation, he was puzzled at the slight feeling of arousal he experienced during his ordeal. When things started to happen, Santa tried to fight, but then he gave up and noticed he had a little “north pole” of his own when it was all over. Suddenly the door blew inward and Santa could hear submachine gun fire erupt in the room. He could also hear gunfire coming from outside. When Santa rolled over he saw three short figures wearing black BDU’s and black masks all but their eyes. They were armed with
MP 5 submachine guns. As they approached Santa, he passed out.
Hours later when Santa woke up, he was in the back of a C-141 Satrlifter, bound for the North Pole. Major Smelf was standing over Santa. “It’s good to have you back sir. Lucky for you your tracking beacon activated as soon as your clothes were removed or it would have taken a hell of a long time before we could have found you.” “Don’t worry about a thing Santa, the doctor here on board said there was minimal tearing and you should heal up in no time.”
Santa just lay there and smiled. Smelf had no idea that Santa had not heard anything he just said. Smelf did not realize that Santa was forever changed, and there was no turning back for him now. “Maybe I need to back to Suzy Sweetbottom’s house, and maybe I won’t wait for Christmas this time.” Slowly, Santa drifted off to sleep.