Crabgrass by Tauhid Bondia for December 18, 2024

Santa’s gonna need a divorce, I think.

Mrs. Claus might “accidentally” become the new Krampus when this arc is over.

Seems like murder she wrote.

I wonder who he thought brought his Christmas presents.

Boy takes after his uncle.

I don’t know if trusting Uncle Krampus is their biggest mistake or not. Pretty sure it makes the top ten.

Santa with a man bun? No way.

It’s a Christmas Conspiracy!

Celina! Where is your loyalty?

Dunn …Dunn…Dunn!!!

Jr. looks more like Unk, than he does like Nick…Momma got some ’splainin to do?

Well now we know, beyond any doubt, she is evil incarnate.

Maybe you could try putting on his magical suit. But why do I get the feeling that Mrs. Claus might have some ulterior motive?

Krampus must still be developing. He is supposed to have a forked tongue, a deformed foot, and most obviously, HORNS!

In the flicker of firelight, Kris Kringle sat among the children, his voice steady but heavy with the weight of remembrance. The lines of his face seemed carved by sorrow, softened only by the kindness that remained etched there. He spoke of his brother—of Clyde, now Krampus—a shadow born of envy and grief. For Kris, it was not just the tale of a lost brother, but of a world at war with itself, where goodness struggled to keep its footing.

“I loved him,” Kris whispered, and his words fell like stones in still water. “And love, I thought, would be enough to bring him back.” He looked at the children, their eyes wide and unblinking. “But you cannot save a man who turns from the light of his own choosing.”

Far away, back in the halls of the North Pole something darker had taken root. Mrs. Kringle—once the quiet anchor to his storm—stood with their son, Randall. There, behind walls warmed by the sweat of elves and the joy of ages past, they plotted. Her smile, spoke of schemes and power, of a new order that would strip Christmas of its joy and replace it with authority. For where Kris had built bridges of love, she would erect towers of control. And Randall, young and eager, was the knife she wielded.

“Why,” Mrs. Kringle would ask, “should kindness hold sway in a world that does not reward it?” And the boy would nod, for he knew no better than the bitterness whispered in his ear.

But back at the fireside, Kris’s story went on. He told of small acts of goodness—a toy carved by hand, a blanket left for a stranger, a light hung in a darkened window—that could turn a man’s heart, that could bring warmth where there was none. “It is easier to tear down than to build up,” Kris said. “But one person’s goodness can spark another’s, and in that, a fire is born.”

For the darkness gathers, and the world turns cold, but there will always be a place where love—steady and unyielding—can stand against it. And Kris, weary as he was, would see to it that the fire remained lit.

I knew it. Mrs. Claus and Junior are in cahoots with Krampus!

I completely reject the idea of an evil Mrs. Claus.

….Meanwhile, back at the ranch…..

I’d hate to be invited to Thanksgiving dinner with the Claus family!