The explosion from the kitchen of the Burger Monarch rocked the mall and even alarmed the cops outside. Within moments, the press had been fixated on the explosion, David Davidson and his fellow cops were entranced, and John Davis was getting blown the fuck out as far as ratings goes. Everybody had gotten tired of his anti-American rants and were tuning out by the minute. The spirit of Christmas was on its death bed. Only five minutes were left until the first hostage would be shot.
“Damn it, things are getting explosive,” David said as he felt the ground around him shake. “Is there any more word from the terrorists on the inside?”
“Negative, they won’t let us in the mall.” The cop to his side asked.
“Shit, I hope whoever is on the inside can help us.”
Inside the mall…
This is the moment where a man has to prove himself, Dick thought to himself, starting his monologue as he walked away from the fire. The performer’s lounge was just ahead, and it was up to him now. It was unclear if Michael had made it to the security hut to raise the gates, but the clock was ticking. It was time for him to hurry up and get this over with. It was getting down to the wire now.
While he approached the lounge, Achmed and Asad were still posted up inside. They were both aware that the others were most likely dead by now, and it was up to them to carry out the first killing. Achmed started to look through the crowd, trying to find which one looked the saddest. They would have to be the first to go. He was nearing the steps, up to the top floor of the mall overlooking the massive Christmas tree and it’s star on top.
“The clock is ticking,” Achmed said as he walked over to the first choir member. It was a young woman, blonde hair, and teary blue eyes. He grabbed her by her dress, pulling her to her feet before walking over towards the window. Next, he turned to Asad and said, “call the police chief. Last chance for them to bring me our money.”
Asad was hesitant. He looked towards the crying woman, feeling some empathy as the tears rolled down her face. Before he could move over to the phone, he let out a sigh.
“Can’t we just give them a few more minutes?” Asad asked.
“I grow weary of your insolence.”
Achmed gave the woman a shove, pushing her to the ground before he lifted the AK47. Asad let out a gasp, only before pulling his hands up to his face to try and shield himself as Achmed opened fire. However, his arms were made of flesh and bone and the bullets just turned him into swiss cheese. The choir lit up in terror, screaming in perfect harmony as Asad’s body dropped to the ground. Achmed then lowered the gun, taking a moment to stop and reload.
“Shit, why did I do that?” Achmed asked as soon as he realized he was alone.
Just then, the door to the performers lounge exploded into a cloud chip as Dick smashed his foot through it. Achmed curled up at the sight.
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“It’s Santa!” one of the choir members shouted.
Dick charged towards Achmed, quickly battling him for the gun. The two tried to gain control of the weapon, leaving the muzzle pointed at the air. Achmed pulled the trigger, sending a stream of bullets towards the ceiling. As they scuffled, the choir started to make a dash for the door, leaving Dick alone to fight the terrorist. Achmed gained control and swung the but of the rifle into Dick’s stomach, causing him to gasp. He then swung it once more across his face, knocking Dick onto the ground.
“Game over, Santa.” Achmed said, pointing the weapon at his face.
But suddenly, there was a beautiful sound. The choir gathered outside, using their powers of music. They sang merrily and brought the warm Christmas Spirit to the mall, reminding everybody the true meaning of Christmas. As the first few notes of All I Want For Christmas is You started to greet them, Achmed felt his head starting to swell.
“Keep going, don’t stop!” Dick called it.
The music continued, the soprano vocals had flown, striking Achmed like a dagger. The tenor jumped in, this time with the high notes that caused Achmed to drop the weapon and grip his ears. Dick knew this was it. He jumped to his feet, filled with the spirit of Christmas, now understanding the true meaning. Achmed clenched his teeth, just before Dick went in for his final attack.
“Time for a little Yuletide Justice.” Dick said, happy that he said the line.
He gave Achmed one bad ass roundhouse straight to the chest, one that even Chuck Norris would have been proud of, and kicked Achmed’s terrorist ass through the window. Achmed sailed towards the ground on a stream of broken and into the Christmas tree below, becoming impaled by the gigantic Christmas star. The choir’s final notes resonated in triumph, the day was saved, and Christmas was to be celebrated.
Dick walked down towards the choir, happy that he saved the day, but still quite disappointed he had forgotten most of the presents. He knew that he would not be as good as Santa Clause himself, but he knew that Santa was smiling down upon him. Shortly after, the security doors were released, and Dick was greeted by the police and the press. He was truly the hero of Christmas. Michael joined him, and the two were considered heroes.
“That was one hell of show, Dick. Or should I say,” Michael said before laughing. “Santa?”
“Thanks man, you didn’t do so bad yourself. I hope you stick with that cut and get jacked, my brother.” Dick replied, quickly clenching Michael’s hand and give the most awesome handshake the world had ever seen.
David Davidson approached them, happy that the situation was over. He started puffing his cigar, trying to look composed. In reality, he could have sworn that it was Santa himself standing before him.
“That was a great thing you did, I’m going to talk to the mayor, and hopefully he talks to the president, and then you’ll be head of the ATF, I tell ya!” David replied.
“No thanks, I think this year I’ll just be Santa.” Dick replied.
And with that, they all lived happily ever after. Michael started hitting the gym and became a world-famous body builder. David Davidson went on to write a successful book, which became a National best seller and adapted into a movie, one starring Robert De Niro. Lance had a memorial erected in his honor, although he really didn’t do anything. John Davis’ bitch ass was cancelled because it turns out he wasn’t a comedian and douchebag the whole time. Ali was accidentally left in the women’s dressing room and starved to death, but he was a terrorist douchebag, so was it really an accident—and does anybody care?
And as for our hero, well, he’s still in the ATF. His wife called out that night and they had the most X-Rated sex scene the world had ever seen and too graphic for me to describe any of it. He may never wear the suit again, but he will never forget that night. From that day forward, everybody remembered Dick as the true savior of Christmas, and terrorism never happened again.
The End... and Merry Christmas