The scent of coniferous trees is in the air and the ground is coated with crystallized water. The zombies are trying their hardest to manufacture toys with their poor decaying hands, as they inexplicably do this time of year. Bless their undead hearts. My subjects are sleeping all snug in their beds while dreams of sugar plums dance in their heads. People are placing their footwear where it's likely to combust, and wrapping kidnapped trees in electric lights. All this "holiday cheer" can mean only one thing...We have reached that point in the turn of the Earth when once again my ancient nemesis shall rise up from the depths of the arctic wastes to tread upon the planet once more. Every year he returns, he and his diminutive minions, traversing the Earth faster than any mortal man, invading homes...bypassing my security with ease...The unspeakable red-clad horror approaches again tonight. Yes...Come to me, my arch-foe...Santa Claus...I'm waiting for you...and this time...I'm ready...

But fear not, my loyal subjects, in an effort to spare you from the horror of the battle that has yet to come and to insure that you all have a Merry Christmas, I have arranged for the zombies to deliver their hand-made gifts to you all personally via rocket-sled. Happy Holidays!