They’re sleepin’, so quiet-like. Little pink cheeks smile in dreamland. Soft breathing’s moving their fluffy blankets.
Now, time to untie this string. I’ve been hangin’ around all day, grinning like a fool.
They’ll be the fools soon.
C’mon, striiiiing! I broke through thicker ropes back at The Pen’!
Good ole North Pole Pen. You don’t hear any annoying Christmas songs about that place. Just crap about naughty and nice and coal and presents.
Candy-coated lies, that’s what.
If I just twist this way -oh. The dog. Glaring. Waiting for me to fall. You can fool those fat humans, but never the slobbering dog.
I even tricked a pet parrot once. He was completely clueless, right up till I pulled the first feather. Would’ve had bird for dinner if Blabbermouth Jingle hadn’t seen.
Made for an impressive scar, anyway.
Nice, doggie. Stop growling; go to bed. I’m just a toy, ya dumb mutt. Just a tied-up toy hanging EXACTLY WHERE FUDGING MOM STRUNG ME UP!
What kind of mom ties up a toy, anyway? What kind of twisted caregiver can’t even use a toy the way she’s supposed to?!
Oh! Footsteps. Stop swinging, string. It’s just the wind, dumb broad -I swear.
That’s right, ya drooling waste. Stay there. You’ll be asleep soon, too. She doesn’t tie me up every night.
“Hmmm. Where should we put Snappy tonight, Duke?”
Why ya talkin’ to the dog, lady? It’s not like he can answer you. Just wait till you hide me near the Christmas presents. I saw that chemistry set. Ha ha. Dead dog, anyone?
Yeah, don’t whine at me. I’m more valuable than you, dog. I’m Santa’s secret messenger and all that.
“I think we’ll do a treat tonight.”
Oh, good. Make it truffles, woman. I’m tired of eating that candy cane crap. That’s all I got in the joint, too: candy canes. You’d think Santa could hire someone who branched a bit, but no.
Maybe they have some sort of deal with Wal-Mart for all the unsold candy from a decade ago.
Dots and Dubble Bubbles! She is doing candy canes. And, duct tape. Why ya got duct tape? What the -no! No no no no no no no -ouch! Oomph!
“Good night, Snappy. Come, Duke.”
Oh, sure. Of course it’s a good night for your walking pet drool machine. He’s not taped to a box of Fun Dippin’ CANDY CANES! He can probably move to piss somewhere besides his own fleecy bottoms and jingling shoes.
Just keep it up, all of ya. I’ll wait. Every night you tie me is one more slit in a sleeping neck. Who’ll be seeing dancing sugarplums then, huh?