Waiting For Santa

I sat on the edge of the roof, studying the horizon Waiting for the do-gooder, who makes me wretch He will not be ho-ho-ho-ing after I get finished here. I feel something protruding from my left incisor. Remnants of last year’s Santa. The night is still, the ambiance makes me giddy. There is an evilness afoot that delights my black heart. I imagine what I will be doing to this year’s cheerful idiot. My teeth gnash hard, practically breaking. I am ready for the fool who dares approach. “It is Krampus!” I hear someone yell. Three midnight friendly humans begin throwing hard things up on the roof. I will return fire later. Right now there is only one victim. I watch for him, hoping he will be nauseously joyful. Those are the kinds of Santas whom I enjoy slicing and devouring the best. A wolf howls, feeling my excitement. I lie in wait, sitting on the chimney now. I can practically taste salty blood. I salivate in readiness.