This year, when Santa crept down the chimney, Caroline was waiting.
She hid behind the tree, delighted to see Santa go straight for the milk and cookies she'd left. As he munched away, Caroline tip-toed up behind him, quiet as a mouse...
...and smacked him across the head with a baseball bat.
He dropped like a bowl full of jelly, and Caroline laid into him, bludgeoning the not-so-jolly old elf about the head and torso.
“Next time,” said Caroline, as Santa lay broken and bleeding on the floor, “when I ask you for a pony, you give it to me.”
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alt="Heartwood by R.J. Cannon"
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>
sizes="(min-width: 1200px) 550px, (min-width: 750px) calc((100vw - 130px) / 2), calc((100vw - 50px) / 2)"
alt="Denied by J.B. Corso"
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sizes="(min-width: 1200px) 550px, (min-width: 750px) calc((100vw - 130px) / 2), calc((100vw - 50px) / 2)"
alt="Cold Recognition by Andreas Flögel"
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>
sizes="(min-width: 1200px) 550px, (min-width: 750px) calc((100vw - 130px) / 2), calc((100vw - 50px) / 2)"
alt="Winter Feast by Pauline Yates"
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>