Every Christmas by tradition, you bake cookies on Christmas eve and leave it out in the kitchen on a plate with a glass of milk just for ‘Santa’, just to make your daughter happy. She believes in all this crap, that it’s Santa getting her those presents when you really worked your ass off to get it, but it’s alright because she’s still young.

It’s Christmas eve and you’ve tucked your daughter in bed and shortly after, you went to sleep as well. Hours later you’re awoken by a loud thud coming from downstairs. You rise to your feet, cautiously walk downstairs with a pocket knife in your hand, and what you see surprises you..

You switch the kitchen light on and see a man.. a tall man wearing a Christmas hat, tattoos on his arms and he’s eating the cookies, clearly enjoying it.

Santa doesn’t have tattoos.

“I’m here to rob you. I was going to.. but then i saw these cookies and couldn’t resist.” He chuckles.

“Tell me.. have you been good this year?”

He grins, walking closer to you and tilting your head up by your chin.