Pippa and Peter Ander were surprised when, upon hearing noises in their living room in the middle of the night on Christmas Eve, they found a man with a large sack standing before their fireplace.
It was not a man's presence that surprised them; this man was just not what they expected. They'd hoped to find a fat man with a jolly face, and a beard. Instead they found a thin, frail looking man with pale skin, no hair, and a mean look on his face. The suit was sort of right though, except that it was black with crimson trim instead of the red with white they had expected.
“Who the hell are you?” Peter called out, stepping into the room.
The man looked surprised for a second, and then smiles darkly at the boy, “Well hello there, Peter Ander, isn't it a little late for you to be up? That's very naughty. I suppose little Pippa is with you as well, yes?” the man's voice was a little gravelly, and accented.
“You're not Santa, are you?” Pippa asked, cautiously moving into view.
“What was your first hint?” the man replied, “You may call me The Anti-Claus.”
“Auntie Claus?” Pippa asked, “But you're a man.”
The man bared his teeth in a snarl, and reached into his sack, “Don't screw with me, kid, I've got crap to do,” his hand emerged holding a chainsaw. He dropped the sack, and gripped the saw in both hands as it hummed to life.
“What are you doing?” Peter yelled over the noise as Anti-Claus crossed to the brightly decorated tree.
“This!” the pale man yelled, and then swung the saw at the tree. Green needles, and glass balls flew as the saw sliced through branches. The lights flickered, spark, and then went dark as the whirling chain tore through the power cord . After mere moments, the top half of the tree crashed to the floor on top of the neatly wrapped presents at its base, “Ho, ho, ho!”
“Stop that!” Pippa yelled, tears streaming down her face.
“Why? There are hours until sunrise still!” Anti-Claus crowed, impaling a large colorful package with the length of the saw.
“Leave those alone!” Peter yelled, running at the intruder.
Anti-Claus dropped the saw to the floor, and swung the back of his hand at the approaching child. Peter caught the blow full in the face, and was knocked backwards, tripping over the coffee table and landing between it and the couch.
“Peter!” Pippa yelled, running to help her brother.
Anti-Claus walked back to his sack, and pulls a long, thin, wooden switch from it, “I don't get to use this very often,” he said, cruelty dripping from every word as he approached the children.
“Stop right there, Anti-Claus!” a deep voice booms. The three people in the room turned to see that a fourth had joined them. In front of the fireplace stood a large man with a snowy white beard, and rosy red cheeks. He wore a long hooded red robe trimmed with white fur, and carried a thick staff.
“Santa!” Pippa cried.
“They're mine, you fat oaf!” Anti-Claus hissed, and charged the jolly old soul.
Santa swung his staff, the end of it connecting with Anti-Claus' face, knocking him across the room onto the ruins of the tree and presents. The thin man struggles to his feet, disentangling himself from bits of shiny tinsel and lengths of holiday lights, his chainsaw once again in his hands.
“You kids probably shouldn't watch this,” Santa said.
Anti-Claus charged again, saw raised. Peter and Pippa watched as Santa blocked the saw with his staff in one hand, and grabbed the front of the bald man's coat with the other, lifting him into the air before slamming him down into the coffee table. The cheap Swedish table splintered under the impact, and the chainsaw ripped into the couch before Anti-Claus lost his grip on it and it fell silent.
“I've told you before, little man, don't mess with my night!” Santa says, lifting Anti-Claus off of the floor one-handed, and throwing him across the room and through the picture window onto the snowy lawn outside.
“What the hell is going on out here?” said the scared voice of the Penny Anders as she ran into the room. In her hand was her ex-husband's Beretta, “Who are you, and what have you done to my house?” she demanded, pointing the gun at Santa.
“Why I'm Santa Claus, of course, I was just taking care of a... problem. He won't be bothering you anymore tonight,” Santa said.
“What about my house?” Penny asked as snow swirled in through the broken window.
“Uh, well,” Santa said, looking around at the mess, “I have to be going now; taking care of him is going to put me behind schedule,” he continued quickly before climbing out the window and into the yard.
“Wait, aren't you going to use Christmas magic or something to fix this?” Pippa asked.
“Yeah, aren't you going to save our Christmas?” Peter asked.
“Santa's gotta go, folks,” the jolly man called over his shoulder, as he loaded the frail from of the unconscious Anti-Claus into the sleigh parked at the curb.
With a crack of his whip, the reindeer took off down the street, slowly gaining altitude as they went, “Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night! Ho, ho, ho!” Santa called out as he flew away.
“Wow,” Penny Anders said as she watched through her broken living room window as the sleigh disappeared into the stormy sky, “Santa's kind of a dick!”