Been following the scent for three days. Stinks like hell.
Scent of a Grinch... and my reindeer. Quite a mixture.
Not one I like.
Scent led me here... to this hell hole.
North pole's nice and cool. Not like this blazing island.
My fur coat keeps the sweat pouring. Fortunately, my mutant fatty factor keeps me nice and round.
I could sweat buckets and never lose an ounce.
Samurai on the ground. Me... I'm on the roof.
Left the sleigh and the other reindeer back at the outskirts. They don't need to see the carnage. They're softies. Show em a little blood and gore... They'll show you yesterday's lunch.
I'm Santa Claws, but most people know me as Saint Snktolas.
I reach the Grinch's hideout.
There's a goon on the roof, right where I'm goin. Guess this just isn't his day.
Guard made a lot o' noise. Luckily the goons on the ground were away terrorizin some whos.
Lucky for them, that is.
The goon's dead. I'm free to go my way. We're all happy.
My claws go back in. They're made of Adamantium. It's an imaginary metal, so nothin can break it. My stomach's laced with the stuff too. Makes the milk and cookies easier to handle.
I leap to the roof of the Grinch's hideout. An abandoned marshmallow factory.
Two guards on the ground. No trouble.
I leap off the roof.
And land on the first goon. He makes a funny little squish. Then I'm up...
My claws are out. And the second guard is about as useful as all that damned fruitcake I get every year.
About as pretty too.
Too easy. No litterally.
Something's up. Grinch's either dumb, or playin' 'round.
The goons leap from the shadows. I'm a bit surprised to find my own elves pointing oozies at me. I'm disappointed.
I thought they were smarter than that.
I never liked em much anyway. Their high, squeaky voices-
Like fingernails on chalkboards.
Their little beady eyes.
Like a doll's eyes.
I've always wanted to have a little fun with one of these guys. The missus never let me.
Good thing the missus ain't here.
"MY GOD! MY EYES!"
She'd probably scold me.
I can't stand her scolding.
It makes my head hurt.
Like she's pounding my melon with bricks or som'in.
"GREAT LORD HAVE- UUUAAGH!"
Heh. That one was funny.
Let's do it again.
That was the last of em.
Just when I was really starting to get somwhere.
My shrink woulda been proud of those things goin through my head.
He would have.
If I hadn't killed him for writing bad things about me on his little note pad.
I hate it when people write about me behind my back.
The Grinch's stink is pretty strong, now.
That's my body odor.
Now that's some BO.
But I've got business. And like Daddy Claws always said.
Senseless, brutal slaughter before play.
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