Sausagey Santa Read Online Free PDF

ask.
    “We cannot save them right now,” he says. “We have to regroup, bring your wife back from the ice, and then go after Frosty when we’re good and ready. I have to get me bag back from the bastard. All of Christmas depends on it.”
    I touch my hand to Decapitron’s glassy cheek.
    “What do ye say, lad?” asks Sausagey Santa. “Will ye help me save Christmas from the bastards?”
    Still staring at my icy wife, I nod my head.
    “As long as you help me get my daughter back,” I say, forgetting for a second that I have more than one daughter.
    “It’s a promise,” he says.
     

 
    CHAPTER FOUR
    SKY GRAVES
     

 
     
    Heading towards the North Pole:
    My ice sculpture of a wife is propped against the backseat of the sleigh where Santa’s bag of presents should be. I try my hardest to keep my hairdo together as we fly through the air at light speed, hoping Decapitron doesn’t slip out of her seat and shatter on the ground below.
    “Who was that snowman, anyway?” I ask Santa.
    “Arrr, that be Frosty The Neo-Nazi Snowman of Satan,” he says. “Or Nazi Frosty for short. He be me arch nemesis for ages, always trying to ruin Christmas for all the kiddies. Always praising Satan instead of Baby Jesus.”
     
     
    Santa tells me the story of how Frosty came into being. Frosty actually came from Santa himself. After Kris Kringle attempted suicide for the last time and became the sausagey mutant he is today, he decided he wanted to change. He wanted to figure out a way to change his opinion of Christmas so that his eternity wouldn’t be such a living hell. The elves agreed to help him and together they created a machine that could expel all of the hate out of his mind. The hate was sucked out of Kringle’s brain tissue through vacuum tubes. When sucked out of the brain, hate looks like steaming hot black coffee. They extracted enough hate coffee to fill five bathtubs. When it was all over, Kringle was free of his hatred and soon became the happy piratey character sitting next to me.
    Unfortunately, Kringle is 100% immortal. And by 100% I mean that not any tiny piece of him can ever die. Not even his hate. Though it was separated from him, the hatred did not die. It just lingered, stewed, until it eventually took on a life of its own. It grew its own consciousness. It became a new immortal life form. It became Frosty.
    Frosty’s true form is five bathtubs of steaming black hate coffee, but over time he learned how to separate his mass into coffee birds. He learned how to possess the bodies of snowmen. He learned how to control ice and bend nature to his will.
    Besides being a big Hitler fan, Frosty thinks Satan is number one. His major goals include: promoting the anti-Christ, creating an anti-Christmas movement, and becoming the world’s first anti-Santa. He currently resides at the South Pole where he is building an enormous concentration camp for children.
     
     
    We’re starting to pass through grave space. It is a popular new thing to be buried in mid-air rather than underground. Tombstones and coffins have anti-gravitation devices planted on them so they can hover in the sky. Santa navigates slowly through the floating graveyard, careful not to crash into anyone’s coffin. The night is calm and gentle as we swim through. The dead drift back and forth like hundreds of baby cradles floating in the middle of the sea.
    One of the sky graves comes so close to the sleigh that it nearly bonks me in the head. I get a good look at the words on the tombstone. They read: “She loved the stars too fondly to be fearful of the night.” Just like the song by that old surrealistic rock band The Slow Poisoners.
    She also loved the stars so fondly that her family buried her in them. It probably cost them a pretty penny as well. Sky burials are not cheap.
     
     
    It doesn’t take us too long to get to the North Pole, but it sure didn’t seem like we were going at the speed of light. Perhaps the sleigh has the