Billy-Bob the Christmas tree had not seen that one coming.
These blonde-haired clowns looked pretty harmless to him.
He let his guard down to watch the two midgets on acid laugh and bicker and slide in the mud and bicker and laugh some more.
He didn’t notice the tall somber one nod to the executioner.
When he heard the two-stroke spluttering of the chain saw, it was too late.
His lifeless corpse bundled in the bag of the Dacia never witnessed the decent of the funeral procession back into the cloud of mist.
Happy Christmas his needly arse…