Andy and Chelsea were enjoying mugs of cocoa as a gentle snow fell outside.
“I’m excited for Christmas tomorrow,” Chelsea said between sips of cocoa.
Andy shot up. “It’s Christmas Eve?”
“Uh, yeah?”
“This is bad. You’ve got to leave now.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m a‒” it was too late. Andy bent over in a convulsion of pain. A puffy white beard grew on his face. His stomach grew several times the size it was. “AAAAAUUUUGGGHHH-HO-HO-HO!” He screamed.
Chelsea was dumbfounded.
“I’m a weresanta,” Andy said with labored breaths, sweat pouring down his face.
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You are sure doing a remarkable job in avoiding any hint of Christmas cheer in these last few stories. Christmas humbugs, Santa Executions, and now Weresantas; whats next? =)
Haha! Yeah. It’s probably only going to continue that way through the rest of this week.