I’ve heard the phrase “tis the season” thrown around a lot as of late. In my case, ‘tis the season to consider which three seasonal characters should die and how. Certainly, there’s room for a few new faces in the seasonal programming line-up and why not off beloved Christmas icons to make room for newer ones?
Immediately, I’ve exempted Santa Clause from the chopping block because after seeing the “documentary” Rare Exports I’m really digging the old guy. Just keep overfeeding him and shipping him off to malls, Finnish people. There’s no cheaper labor to be found than free! Also, while seeing Frosty the snowman blasted by a flamethrower might prove mildly amusing it’s anticlimactic at best when he melts/dies every GD year anyway. Apparently, I’m so overcome by the spirit of Xmas that I’ve decided who to save first. *vomits* Next up: MURDER!
Rudolph : Mega money TV crossover time! Death by the Duck Dynasty clan. It’s a duck. No, it’s a deer. Aw hell, just shoot the damn thing Jack and give me my paycheck for the concept cause I can’t even afford one of your camo duck calls this year.
Snow Miser of the Miser brothers: Death by fratricide. I mean heat is Snow’s natural enemy anyway and if we’re only losing one, Heat Miser is THE only Miser for my money! I’m also betting that much like myself, some people just want to watch the world burn. FLAME ON!
The Grinch: Heat attack. As it turns out there’s actually a reason that his heart was that small. No need to create a new special on this one. Just use the existing footage until that big a$$ heart cracks through his sternum and let the fun begin.
Apparently, I was too late to kill any of Tim Burton’s modern(ish) seasonal characters. He did an awesome job of killing or torturing them before I could get to them. Well played, Burton.
(Editor’s Note: Best Bio EVER)
Gerri aka “Sister Throat Punch” is NOT a “serious” writer or serious anything else for that matter. She can get lost pretty easily literally, literararily and metaphorically. She suffers from an anti sense of direction and is spatially so inept that before the GPS she would just circle her home for hours. Her hobbies include hitting stuff, reading and watching anything with a lot of blood and gratuitous gore.
She has recently been exiled to Chicagoland Suburbia where she shares a townhouse with her long-suffering, comic hoarder bf and her vicious attack puppy.
Her writing credits include improvised training manuals at the now deceased Kmart in Crestwood, IL and catalog copy re-writes for the cosmodemonic uniform company that previously leased her soul.
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