The Wilson residence was a radiant sight this evening. The smell of pie and other confections graced the air, providing a bright atmosphere for the family. It was Christmas Eve. The family had been ecstatic to finally take part in the festivities. The Crimson colored wrapper and the sparkled ribbons of the presents glimmered under the lights, only bringing a glimmer of joy to the eyes of the children—Bell, the curious daughter, Bill, the not so curious son, and finally, little Emily.

Emily was quite the troublemaker. However, after her routine medication she had finally calmed down enough to take part in the family tradition of baking cookies. While the mother—Daphne—finished helping create the final batch, the children gathered for the decorations.

“Mine has the green and white sprinkles!” exclaimed Bell.

“Mine has the red and blue!” added Bill.

“Well, I ate my cookie.” Concluded Emily.

The family had joined together in laughter, the house filled with their merry chuckles. It was quite a wonderful evening. As the family finished their festivities, the father finally entered through the front door. Snow had covered his top hat and coat, slowly starting to pillow its way onto the floor below.

“Honey, I’m home!” the father—Brian—finally bellowed.

“It’s a shame you had to work on Christmas eve,” Daphne returned, flashing her bright smile. Her lipstick was bright and red, and Brian approached for his needed after work kiss. “I thought you could get the day off.”

“We’re short staffed,” Brian replied, reaching over to plant a kiss on her lips. His body warmed as the substance lingered on his face. “Too bad I missed dinner, I guess we’ll have to get the kids to bed now. I’ll warm up a plate.”

“Daddy,” Little Emily chirped. “Can we please open presents now?”

“Now, now, not until morning.” Brian said to her with a warm grin.

The family laughed again. Soon after, Brian and Daphne started to get the children settled into bed. After a bedtime story, the two gathered together in the living room for some late night television. The TV lit up, showing another one of the late night talk shows. Its regular low brow comedy had brought joy to their faces, causing them to bark with laughter. The host was Johnny Davis, and he was in the middle of another joke about racism or something family friendly. The airwaves were strict.

“Let me tell you about,” John Davis continued his routine on the tv, pausing for the punchline. He then blasted, “Republicans!”

The crowd had gone nuts. Whoops and cheers from the audience blared through the tv receiver, finally getting a reaction from Daphne and Brian.

“He’s so funny!” Daphne exclaimed.

“His top-notch political humor really speaks to me, but I know something that might improve the jokes.” Brian said, flashing a devious grin to Daphne.

“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

“Yes mam,” he reached into the breast pocket of his button up t shirt, retrieving a small bag. “I got some marijuana at work.”

The scent from the buds caused them to light up in joy. Daphne’s constant cleaning caused so much stress and was desperate to be soothed with a good burn. She reached over towards the cushions, pulling out a small tin from between them. Inside the tin case, she retrieved a small ceramic pipe that had stunk with previous green. Brian quickly began to finger his way into the bag, breaking off a small piece of bud. He stuffed it into the ceramic pipe, pulled it towards his lips, and waited eagerly as Daphne held her lighter up to him.

BAM!!!

The window of the front door exploded into a storm of broken glass. A flashbang had sailed through the room and detonated in front of the two. Brian and Daphne belted out in terror. After the blast, the front door let out a thunderous crack as the ATF agents smashed through. Leading the charge was the hero of our story, Dick Rumbles—a hardcore and do good cop.

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He stood tall, over six feet with his massively muscular frame. The M249 in his hands had instilled fear in the family. He cleared the front room, allowing the troops behind him to begin their siege. Their black leather boots had tracked dirt and snow inside, destroying the lovely carpets and furnishings. Dick rushed over towards the two on the couch, slapping the ceramic pipe out of their hands as they screamed in horror.

“Get down,” Dick shouted to them, pulling the trigger on his M249, causing it to release a volley of bullets that began to spray the walls behind them. “Get the fuck do-o-o-own!”

The bullets had punched through the paintings hanging on the wall, blasting the family’s cherished memories to pieces. Brian and Daphne dived towards the floor, watching in horror as their home began to ignite. The machine gun’s spray had finally torn through their silverware, the family heirlooms, and into the fish tank. Water splashed on the floor, leaving the dozens of fish to flop about.

“I got your back, Dick!” Lance “Lightning” Jackson shouted as he pushed him aside.

He was Dick’s best buddy, and a man who had overcome personal hardships from the racist system dominating the country. As Dick moved aside, Lance pointed his pistol towards the fish as they flopped about, taking aim, and firing rapidly. The fish exploded in bursts, causing Brian and Daphne to continue their screaming. Inside of the family bird cage, the parrot—Crackers—started to squawk about.

“Quack, fuckin’ pigs, quack!” Crackers shrilled.

“Fuck, get down!” Dick shouted after hearing the screeching coming from his six.

Lance dived to the floor, allowing Dick to spray bullets towards the bird. It exploded into a ball of blood and feathers, finally neutralizing the threat.

“Dude, that was a five-hundred-dollar bird!” Brian shouted.

“Shut the fuck up, doper,” Dick shouted to him, planting his boot into his chest. “Looks like we caught you guys in the middle of a big deal.”

“I’ll clear the house, Dick.” Lance said to him.

The ATF agents streamed in one by one. After clearing out their kids’ room and promptly smashing their toys, the family was gathered into the living room for Dick to celebrate with his cigar. The successful operation had ensured that it would be one less person doing drugs in his beautiful city. Everything was going according to plan.

“That was one hell of a score, Dick.” Lance congratulated him.

“Thanks, now to finally book these two,” Dick replied, staring down at Brian and Daphne. “Merry Christmas.”

But then, there was another commotion. The ATF agents snapped towards the doggy door out back, alarmed to see the family Golden Retriever—Goldie—rush into the room. She sat with her tail wagging; drool covered tongue hanging as she panted.

“Dog!” Lance screamed, filled with horror.

The words echoed in Dick’s head. He had felt as if he was left with his back to the wall—no choice but to react. As Lance’s warning continued to echo, the muzzle of the M249 exploded into a storm of bullets. Everything had gone dark.

That was six years ago…

The inside of Dick’s office at the ATF building was starting to wind down. Dick had never been the same since that day. He could remember being dressed down by his superiors. What would have been considered a successful raid resulted the death of the family dog. In the years of the ATF’s many successful operations, the constant memes posted by shit-lords on the internet of them shooting dogs haunted them. Dick never expected that in his many years that he would be considered part of the joke. As Christmas drew near, the memories of the failed raid started to haunt him.

I was so god damn careless, Dick thought, burying his face into his hands.

“You’re not thinking about the raid again, are you Dick?” Lance asked him.

“Naw, I was just clearing something from my eyes,” Dick replied. He lifted his head, lowering his hands to show his regular masculine smile. “I dunno how you keep this going you old goose-lipped bastard.”

“Maybe you should do some PR work for the team,” Lance gripped his newspaper as he laughed. He tossed it down on the desk, revealing the main headline. “The Mall is doing its annual Christmas celebration, and they need a Santa.”

Dick lit up, feeling the Christmas cheer starting to fill him. It was the one thing he had been thinking of, but he looked at himself in the mirror, wondering if he would be able to play the part. They would need somebody as magical as Santa to play him. Deep down, he knew that it was his destiny to play the role. The celebration this year at the mall was going to have the National Choir Assembly, thousands of people, and the Christmas lighting ceremony. Every year there was going to be a giant tree, and he always had fun taking the family.

“I don’t think I’m fat enough.” Dick said, looking at his impressive physique.

“Maybe Santa can be buff this year you crazy honky,” Lance replied. “Go ahead and take the night off. Go home and give that lovely wife of yours a kiss for me.”

The two reached out to each other, bumping fists together. The room ignited; the two’s epic bro-fist was beyond comprehension. Dick rose to his feet, finally grabbing his coat and getting his stuff ready for the celebration.