It twas the holiday season, no different from the last, until the population of earth looked skyward and expelled a collective gasp.
All ran for shelter, to the warm glow of the TV, for they knew there would be monumental events to see.
The box crackled, spat and snowed. Then all were amazed by the picture it showed.
This is Zbrtz of the Nubtebula Empire!
Attention Santa! What the fuck?
Why all the hate?
The inhabitants of the Nubtebula Empire, the “Nubs” as we are known back in the hood, have been good. We’ve been saintly. Compared to us, Jesus was a trouble maker. We’ve been a peaceful race for well over an eon. We’ve helped countless words. We’ve sacrificed resources, developed technologies to serve entities everywhere and we’ve peacefully arbitrated treaties between worlds that had been at war for millennia.
Why then, have 1000 years of letters and gift requests been ignored?
Why do my kids cry EVERY GODDAMNED CHRISTMAS!!!
It’s a slap to the face Nicolas. It’s worse than a slap to the face; your abject neglect is like a spiked wrecking ball into the left eye of every Nub, puncturing our fibrous tunic, spraying viscous eye fluid onto baby Jesus.
YOU SELFISH, FESTIVE REINDEER MOLESTOR.
What? Are you too good for us you racist.
That’s right, I said it. I’m playing that card. You are a racist Nick.
What is it? You don’t like the look of our eye-stalks? Does the fact that we lack bodies or any disernable genitalia freak you out?
Well, that kind of freaks us out too. But FUCK YOU Mr. I Wear Red Pajama’s Every Day. You are Santa! You should be above prejudice! You dick. You Douche-Fag!
You shit on us Santa. Really you do. I’m sure you do. Every year, you gather up all our sincere letters into a nice big pile. You then drop your baggy balloon pants to your ankles, squat and squeeze real hard. You’ve spent the day eating soft foods, full of fiber, so the shit comes out of you like a Christmas train – as one long strand that, even from space, we can’t see the end of. It just keeps coming, your asshole like some sort of demented soft ice cream machine. Then, once you finish and after you turn to see our dreams, hopes and wishes covered in a rope of chocolate coloured shit, you laugh a great big belly laugh and light up your corn-cob pipe.
I HOPE YOU GET CANCER YOU JOLLY SON OF A BITCH!
What big red balls you have Chris. To stand there, with that shit-eating grin on your bulbous face. You drink Coke while my kids are crying because you brought them JACK SHIT! All you brought them was disappointment, YOU FAT BASTARD!
By the way Einstein, stop drinking Coke! No wonder you weight a metric ton. You FAT BASTARD!
We are done Santa! The Nubtebula Empire are tired of being shit on. The tides have turned you tubby pedophile. THE TIME HAS COME! IT IS OUR TURN TO SHIT ON YOU!
YOU! HUMAN!
LAUNCH THE ATTACK!
Click Above to launch the attack. Thanks to Uncle_Sham for the googly hand puppet and 'ammunition'.