Ebeneezer Scooge laughed as he saw the jolly fat man go down hard.
“That’ll show you, Christmas hog!” he yelled hoarsely at the rolling rotund figure.
Santa splayed wildly as his significant bulk slid down the hill. An errant jingle bell flew merrily across the sky and knocked over a picture-book wailing cat on a fence who had been expecting perhaps a shoe, but not a ballistic jingler.
Scooge sneered as he heard the feral feline howl.
“You’ll be feelin’ that in the mernin’ Mr. Tom!” he cackled.
But he couldn’t enjoy his little laugh for long. He still had the Claus to contend with.
As he crested the top of the hill, he could see the red-clad one staggering to his feet.
“Forget my train again, will you?” he said as he grabbed a stout branch from the ground. “I’ll give you a memory lesson you’ll never forget!”
But the portly elf was having none of it.
“You’re a bastard, Scooge, and I didn’t forget your damned choo-choo.” He scowled as he spit out blood and a few broken teeth. “You’ve been a very naughty boy.”
Scooge laughed. “You ain’t seen nothin’ yet, Kringle.” He raised the branch above his head. “Time to Kringe!”
But Ol’ Saint Nick had another idea, he crouched and reached behind his back, pulling a gleaming steel katana from its’ hidden sheath.
As the enraged old man ran towards him, Santa sliced, and a startled Scooge fell to his knees, as a moment later, his top half toppled over.
Santa rose slowly to his feet, and stood looking down. Scooge stared vacantly, a grinning rictus of surprised apoplexy twisting his lips.
“Good riddance to bad rubbish,” muttered Santa as he straightened his tunic.
He raised his wrist to his mouth and spoke into an obscured device.
“Bring Yukon’s clean up crew in stat! Rendezvous with Sled 1 in two minutes, Big Ben coordinate three.”
Minutes later, as he continued his trek across the world, Santa looked down on London town as it receded from view. “Ho, ho, ho” he chuckled to himself. “What the Dicken’s wrong with England nowadays?”