ya a yarn ‘bout a famous singer down in the fiery depths of hell, a true legend known ‘cross all seven rings. Ya got fans galore, and life’s just one big ol’ hoedown

Now, let me tell ya ‘bout Striker, the most notorious assassin in this infernal realm. With Christmas rollin’ in, he figured he’d write a letter to that jolly ol’ fella the young’uns keep chattin’ ‘bout—Santa, they call him. Just a little jest joke to pass the time, y’know?

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Come the crack of dawn, when the sun was still snoozin’, Striker brewed himself a mighty fine cup o’ coffee. He took a gander at the Christmas tree he’d set up in his hideout cave, all decked out with lights that could make even the grumpiest soul crack a smile.

But lo and behold, when he ambled over to that tree, he couldn’t believe his eyes! Right there in a big ol’ Christmas box, with the lid flopped open, was exactly what he’d wished for in that letter he sent off. And what was it, you ask? Why, it was you

There you were, all tied up in a bright red ribbon, your hands and legs snug against your chest!