Two Santas? Which One Do I Shoot?


There are two Santas in my house, and I’m not sure which one to shoot. What would you do if you were in my shoes?

Twas Christmas M’Lord

So it’s late Christmas Eve and we’re waiting for Santa like we do. We like to make sure he enjoys the milk and cookies, the carrots, the coal, and everything else. We’re very generous to the jolly man in our house.

To my surprise there are two Santas in my house, one is dressed as Santa and the other is naked except for a Santa hat and slippers, the naked one is peeing into my fireplace. He claims he’s the fire marshal and Santa, but I’m beginning to have my doubts.

Silver and Gold

I panic, I got them both in my sights. I don’t know which one to shoot! What should I do? The naked one? Who has better aim? Wait a minute! What am I doing!?

If I shoot him, and he’s the real Santa Claus, then I am effectively killing Christmas. I might also be cursed with having to deliver all the world’s presents and to be honest I had other plans this Christmas.

Santa killing. It doesn’t look good on a resume. I need a plan B.

Plan B meet Plan A

Okay, let’s say I shoot the naked one first and this means he’s dead. Then what? He just falls into the fireplace, burns to a crisp and I have to open presents tomorrow? No way Jose.

The real Santa might also be bullet proof and there’s no songs about what happens if you put two bullets in Santa’s chest. I mean does he turn into a boss demon?

What if I wrong the real Santa and he grows twenty feet tall with sharp candy cane claws and he ho-ho-hos my head into pieces?!

Okay, that sounds cool, now I’m even more confused. That would also get me fired, my boss strictly requires I attend work wearing my head. It’s company policy!

Spring into action like Joe Rogan’s manly guests always say

“Santa which one of you is the real Santa?” I shouted in a panic.

The fireplace crackling with fresh yule log. There’s smoke coming out of the chimney.

The naked guy finally finishes taking a piss.

“I told you, I’m the doctor” he slurs as he takes a swing at me.

“Is this the real Santa?” I think to myself. “He must be because he is speaking perfect English.”

“Shut up dummy, who asked you?” The real Santa says in an angry voice. He stands up.

I quickly aim at his head and pull the trigger.

“NO ONE READS MY THOUGHTS BITCH!” I yelled as I squeezed the trigger.

The gun exploded from my hands. His Christmas magic stopped my revolver dead in its tracks.

Needless to say I didn’t get any cool presents this year. I’m thinking about converting to a more materialist religion so I can get a new XBox or maybe a watch encrusted in the finest jewels.

Anyone know a religion like that? Hit me up in the comments, I am very gullible.

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Writer/Editor. Drinker of Soy. Eater of Soy. Lover of Soy. Don't judge.