Twisted Metal: Santa
A Mosh FanFic

-In Calypso's garage headquarters in LA, California.-

Calypso sits on his throne deep in thought.

Calypso - Black, get me some tea.

(a shadowy figure tends to his request)

Calypso - Whores, I need some privacy. Daddy needs to think about this year's contest.

(Naked servant girls leave his side, exiting the garage)

(the shadowy figure of Black vanishes)

Calypso - Every Christmas Eve the same old Twisted Metal. (sigh) (sips tea) Time to make a list of those who have been naughty to invite to the contest.

(the lights go off in the garage)

a voice is heard from all corners of the room...

"HO HO HO!"

Calypso - Who dares?

Santa - Your brother dares.

Calypso - Santa???

Santa - That's Santa Claus to you, brother. I didn't abandon the family name like you did, Calypso Claus.

Calypso - Get out of here. My business is none of yours. Go fuck a Christmas tree.

Santa - Oh, it's not?

Calypso - Of course not.

Santa - Then why do you host Twisted Metal on Christmas Eve? Why not Halloween? Thanksgiving Day? or some random holiday created by the World Health Organization?

Calypso - ...maybe to piss you off. Must suck knowing some of those gifts are going to waste on the innocents my chosen drivers kill on your sacred holiday. How'd you feel when my Preacher accidentally ran over and killed a group of young Christmas carolers last year?

Santa - See, I make a list of those who are nice enough to receive the gifts they wish. You make a list of those naughty enough to sell their souls for a wish, that often time, backfire on the mentally ill participants you select. What you're doing is wrong, brother.

Calypso - Oh, so you're the judge of me? Am I on your naughty list?

Santa - Only if you wish to be.

Calypso - Meaning what?

Santa - I want you to cancel the tournament this year. There is no need for violence and destruction every Christmas Eve and day.

Calypso - And if I move the contest to June or July, that would be okay, because it doesn't make you look bad, right?

Santa - So you're saying I only care about myself?

Calypso - Well, we are of the same blood. We are similar.

Santa - Well, when you put it that way, brother...

BAM!! BAM!!

Santa shoots Calypso twice in the head with a Christmas-themed gun.

Santa - I guess I'm entitled to take your place as the new host of Twisted Metal, brother. Since we are so similar.

(Santa laughs as he claims Calypso's throne)

(mockingly) Welcome to Christmas Metal! I thank you for praying...

THE END

"backfire on the mentally ill participants you select"