| Each year, in the darkest of night... there arises a clatter on the roof.. A heavy boot steps from the sleigh of darkness. The fat silhouette of a figure creeps towards the chimney, his putrid breath heavy. A moment later he's in the house, his eyes glinting in the moonlight. He helps himself to the cookies and milk, sustenance for the coming kill.. He pulls out a list, checking it for the second time.. oh yes, he's been watching.. |
