CaptainWacky
I want to smell dark matter
"Dad, how does Santa Claus get to all the houses in the world in one night?" asked Billy, wide-eyed.
"Well son that's simple," said his dad, smiling happily. "Santa Claus doesn't exist. He's fictional, like a good life. Made-up. Fake. Not real. You little shit."
"Waaah!" cried Billy. His mother ran out of the house.
"What the hell are you doing Chris, I told you not to go near him! Go inside, Billy!" she said, fantically as his father Chris leered at her.
"Yeah, go back in so your stepdad can molest the fuck out of you!" said Chris, who was obviously quite drunk.
"How dare you! Darren is a good man!" said Billy's mother, disgusted that she'd ever been with Chris.
"He's a ######, Claire," said Christ, matter of factly. "They can't be good. He's touching our white kid every night and you should do something about it. Me? I don't care. I hope he rapes him extra hard from now on. Why the fuck didn't you get an abortion you cow?"
"I'm calling the police..." Chris grabbed Claire by the throat.
"Oh yeah?"
"Get your hands off her!" bellowed a voice. It was Darren, running out of the house.
"Oh, here comes the ######!" said Chris, letting go of Claire. "Take your best shot, nig nog!"
"I've called the police," said Darren. "I suggest you leave."
"You suggest? Well look at you using big words like your a whiteman or something!" laughed Chris. He started to walk away. "Have fun fucking my son!"
Billy ran out of the house and hugged his mother. Shaking, she handed him over to Darren. "Come on, let's go inside."
"Is everything going to be okay, uncle Darren? Daddy said Santa isn't real!"
"Well we both know that isn't true! In fact, he might come to see you tonight...again."
"Oh boy!" said Billy. "I love it when Santa climbs into my bed!"
"Me too," said Darren, making sure Claire wasn't looking. He reached deep down into Billy's trousers. "Everything is going to be okay."
"Well son that's simple," said his dad, smiling happily. "Santa Claus doesn't exist. He's fictional, like a good life. Made-up. Fake. Not real. You little shit."
"Waaah!" cried Billy. His mother ran out of the house.
"What the hell are you doing Chris, I told you not to go near him! Go inside, Billy!" she said, fantically as his father Chris leered at her.
"Yeah, go back in so your stepdad can molest the fuck out of you!" said Chris, who was obviously quite drunk.
"How dare you! Darren is a good man!" said Billy's mother, disgusted that she'd ever been with Chris.
"He's a ######, Claire," said Christ, matter of factly. "They can't be good. He's touching our white kid every night and you should do something about it. Me? I don't care. I hope he rapes him extra hard from now on. Why the fuck didn't you get an abortion you cow?"
"I'm calling the police..." Chris grabbed Claire by the throat.
"Oh yeah?"
"Get your hands off her!" bellowed a voice. It was Darren, running out of the house.
"Oh, here comes the ######!" said Chris, letting go of Claire. "Take your best shot, nig nog!"
"I've called the police," said Darren. "I suggest you leave."
"You suggest? Well look at you using big words like your a whiteman or something!" laughed Chris. He started to walk away. "Have fun fucking my son!"
Billy ran out of the house and hugged his mother. Shaking, she handed him over to Darren. "Come on, let's go inside."
"Is everything going to be okay, uncle Darren? Daddy said Santa isn't real!"
"Well we both know that isn't true! In fact, he might come to see you tonight...again."
"Oh boy!" said Billy. "I love it when Santa climbs into my bed!"
"Me too," said Darren, making sure Claire wasn't looking. He reached deep down into Billy's trousers. "Everything is going to be okay."
