“Christmas bells, Christmas bells!” Dick’s son—Chad—started to sing merrily.

He did not know the rhythm to the song, or even the words for that matter. By now, he was already in a spastic fit of Christmas joy, running about the house. Dick made his way into the front door, seeing his wife Janice already at the table choking down her next cigarette.

“Where’s my chode at?” Dick called out with his gruff voice.

“Daddy!” Chad screamed in joy.

He rushed over to him, leaping through the air to give him a hug. The two embraced, catching Janice’s attention.

“Are you going to be able to take me to work later?” Janice asked.

“Not tonight, babe,” Dick replied, lowering Chad to the floor. “I’m gonna be playing the part of Santa tonight.”

“I know you’ve always dreamed of playing Santa.”

Damn right I have, Dick thought to himself. Ever since he was a boy, he imagined the power and authority Santa had. Every year going from house to house and decide who receives presents, and who doesn’t. He worked year after year to try and become the embodiment of Christmas Joy, but instead was stuck in the ATF. While he may not be as amazing as Santa, he would try his best to become the best agent.

“I want to be Santa, too!” Chad exclaimed.

“Just like your old man, huh?” Dick replied with a smile.

Deep down, he knew he was going to have to be Santa first. Chad would have to wait. After getting some food from the fridge and scarfing down whatever he could. He started to get ready for the mall, making sure he was strapped. Being Santa was just as dangerous a job as being in the ATF, and he made sure he kept a pistol stashed for the job ahead.

“Daddy, can I come to the mall?” Chad asked.

“Not tonight, little man,” Dick said as he kneeled down to him, planting a kiss on his forehead. “Being Santa is dangerous work, you know that.”

“Awww, I know.”

“I tell you what, when I get back we can sit and watch The Snitch Deals Christmas.”

“Yay!”

He was off. It was time to don the uniform and go to the next stage. He just hoped that he would be ready to fill the massive shoes the real Santa had left for him.

The Mall, one hour earlier…

Achmed remembered the day the US came to his village. It was Christmas. There was no Santa coming for him. As his family ran the farm, the Apache and Black Hawk helicopters had completely turned his village into a hellscape. In the place of his farm, the US troops had erected a massive Christmas tree on his holy land. He was desperate to get revenge ever since the day.

He started to drive his van towards the mall, calm and confident as they planned their next move. In the back of the van, his fellow solders of Hamas were ready for the job—Ali, Muhammad, Aryan, Muhammad, and Asad. They had been armed with AK47s, suicide vests, and other weapons for the mission.

It was to be a hostage mission. Achmed knew that the National Choir Assembly would be performing tonight, and dreamed of finally taking them hostage as they burned the tree. If all went well, they would be able to receive a massive payout while ruining Christmas. The van started to pull up towards the side of the mall, being greeted by the security.

Lance was on guard today. He had decided to spend time away from home in order to ensure the entire celebration went off without a hitch. Achmed was nervous seeing the towering black man standing at the gate. He turned back to his crew, waving his hand to them.

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“None of you speak,” Achmed barked with his middle eastern accent. “I will do the talking.”

Lance flagged the van down, bringing it to a stop by the side gate. The vehicle’s tires let out a squeak as he made his way over towards the driver’s side.

“Do you have any identification,” Lance asked after the window rolled down, revealing Achmed with her cheery smile. “The Drag Queen story hour guys weren’t expected for another hour.”

“Yes, we are the Drag Queen story hour,” Achmed replied. “Allah—I mean, all of us commands us to ensure we spread Christmas cheer.”

“Really,” Lance said, suspicion danced on his face. He looked down to Achmed, seeing him pull out his driver’s license. After gripping it, he slowly began to inspect the name and picture across it. “John Smith, huh?”

“Yes.”

“I know a guy from the academy named John Smith, any relation?”

“No, we are just passing through.”

“Hmmm,” Lance started to mumble under his breath. He knew there was something off with them. The middle eastern features of Achmed were a red flag. He had deployed to Iraq many times and wondered why he would be here. Against his suspicions, he handed the license back to him. “Well, try not to make a mess of the place. You have a good night.”

“Thank you,” Achmed said back, smiling before finally muttering, “Allahu Ackbar.”

The words caused Lance to become alarmed. He flinched, trying to remain calm as he motioned over towards the pistol in his belt. Achmed gave him a nod and started to slowly pull the van forward. After getting a few feet ahead, he heard Lance call out to him once more, demanding him to stop. Achmed stopped the van and investigated the rearview mirror to see Lance starting to pull a pair of sunglasses out of his left breast pocket.

“There’s just one more thing,” Lance called out to him, slowly putting the sunglasses over his eyes, and drawing his pistols. “Muslims don’t celebrate Christmas.”

Achmed grabbed a hold of the gearshift and guided it into reverse. All at once, the tires on the van started to screech as it began to drive back towards Lance. Before the crash, Lance dived out of the way, holding the pistols high as he fired towards the van. Bullets started to bounce of the side of the vehicle, leaving it unfazed by the barrage.

As Lance finally hit the ground, the van sped past him. It continued a few feet before coming to a halt. Lance rose to his feet, quickly trying to retrieve another magazine from his belt. The side doors of the van flew open, revealing Aryan, Ali, Muhammad, Muhammad, and Asad with their AK47s. The rifles erupted, sending metal flying back at him.

Lance took another dive for cover to escape the bullets. He landed behind a barrier and found himself trapped by the projectiles. While under cover, he started to reload his pistol to finally return fire. He could only hope that the other police inside would have heard something. Before Lance could stand, Muhammad had rushed over to him with his suicide vest at the ready—detonator in hand. He dived over the barrier, landing next to Lance with a sinister grin on his face.

“Allahu Ackbar!” Muhammad screamed.

“Oh shit.” Lance muttered.

Muhammad pressed the detonator, causing the vest to explode into a ball of fire. It consumed the two, killing them both instantly. Fire rose up through the side gate, before quickly being extinguished by the snow.

“Damn it,” Achmed hissed after seeing the destruction. “It is unfortunate that Muhammad had to blow his load so quickly.”

“It is ok,” the other Muhammad replied. “This will make it less confusing for the mission.”

“That is true. Hurry, clean up this mess.”

The men were quick to clean up the remains. Lance and Muhammad’s charred remains were swept to the side and buried into the snow. They had remained undetected so far and were quick to cover their tracks. Achmed and the others then got back into the van and started to make their back through the side gate. Before getting inside the mall, they had been greeted by another police officer, Michael Doorsup. He was overweight, with a porn star mustache, skin as brown as chocolate, and the biggest dad gut that Achmed had ever seen.

“Hold up now,” Michael said as his gut started to rumble. Achmed and the others ceased up, only raising the tension in the room. “What the hell was all that noise?”

“It was our firework display for the Drag Queen Story Hour,” Achmed declared, remaining confident. “Looks like we had a couple of fireworks go off.”

“Oh,” Michael returned, face filled with shock. “Well, that fucking sucks. Why don’t you fruit bats hurry on in and get set up?”

Achmed smiled, this time refraining from chanting his love for his god. The van sped past Michael, slowly making its way to the parking lot to get ready for the mission.