V.

Santa Claus felt like crabmeat squeezed into a sweaty leather glove. There was something coming out of the darkness. There were..

Sugarplums.

Sugarplums covered in vulgar snail shells spinning on axe blades. Sugarplums rolling like dice across the pudding-covered floor. Sugarplums giving birth to Saturn’s rings spinning out of control, spinning into other sugarplums made of hairy flaps of pink meat. Sugarplums with legs running to other sugarplums with arms, colliding to form Siamese chunks of quivering fruit-flesh. Sugarplum snowflakes falling like unlucky jumpers from skyscrapers that burn like Yule logs.

What the hell is happening?

Santa closed his eyes, saw starbursts and tasted copper. He tried spitting out the mouthful of liquid pennies but couldn’t do it.

He opened his eyes. The sugarplums were still there. Some of them now wore wooden masks while others were covered in sheep skin and goat horns. Those fucking sugarplums were going to drive him insane.

How’d I get here?

Oh yeah, that woman. That beautiful woman. The angel. Oh my god, those tits, I remember those tits. Where the hell is she? Those sugarplums sorta look like tits. Angelic tits ready to burst...a milky supernova.. .all over my face....

Santa felt a hand on the back of his head and he was shoved straight into the sheep skin sugarplums, which were now twisting into tentacles of red meat.

A voice reverberated through the void. “Eat___ ”

And Santa started to eat.