Battle on holiday hill

The war on Christmas has only just begun

By Chandler Walter, Humour Editor

November 13, 2015.

War. The great divider. Destroyer of hope. Creator of borders. It’s been a long November, and we aren’t even half-way through this hellish bloodbath of a month yet. Then comes December… the true fight.

These are but skirmishes. The enemy testing our defenses. We’ve lost many a good elf, but the factories are turning out guns and ammo as fast as they do toys nowadays, and we’ve got the Red Guy on our side.

There was once a time where the North Pole knew no such thing as war. All lived under the mistletoe and the snowflakes, innocent.

How it all started has been much disputed. They say it was on us, pushing our beautiful holiday down the throats of others, but I say that’s bullshit. We were attacked, damn it.

Besides, our Red Guy is the true hero of the holidays. He is the chosen one—the right one. To think otherwise is lunacy. He is out there, leading the charge, brandishing a sharpened candy cane and taking no prisoners.

He’s the one who brought the snowmen to our cause. When Mrs. C was captured, tortured, and eventually murdered, he slaughtered hundreds in a rage that could be heard all across these snowy hills. He painted the Christmas Tree Forest red that day, and has been on a rampage ever since.

We took a hard hit after that, it’s true. When they sabotaged the Starbucks Christmas cups, the one thing that fueled the factories of our industry, we were nearly brought to ruin. Many an elf thought he would be seeing his last December, that day.

But we rallied. We harnessed the true spirit of Christmas deep in our hearts. We looked forward, ever forward, to the gluttony and greed of turkey dinners and presents, and we forced a charge the likes that they had never seen.

On Holiday Hill we surrounded the would-be usurpers, cut off their supply lines, and waited. We feasted on roasted chestnuts and gingerbread cookies as the enemy starved. They continue to rain dreidels down on us from above, the nasty explosive type that can take an elf out in both knees and leave him screaming and bleeding out. But it’s only a matter of time. It’s only a matter of time until we will have destroyed the very memory of Hanukkah…

Drums. Drums in the distance.

Baby Jesus help us all.

The Atheists have arrived.