How Jeff Killed christmas

An awesome story about me that I found on the internet. Merry Early christmas Quibblo.

Chapter 1


Well, hello there,
Readers young and old,
You're in for quite a treat,
A true tale to behold.

As you can see,
With a title such as this,
I will tell you the tale,
Of how Jeff killed Christmas.

It all started late,
On a silent Christmas Eve,
And our favorite killer, Jeff,
Had something up his sleeve.

Seeing that it was Christmas,
Jeff wanted to do something new,
Something extra special,
But, what was he to do?

Just then, he heard something,
His feet made him pause,
He slowly turned to see,
A fake, drunken Santa Clause.

The wheels started turning,
Jeff had a plan,
He clutched the knife in his pocket,
And that's when it began.

Old Saint Nick saw Jeff,
Heading strait his way,
Maybe he could get a dollar,
From Mr. Jeff today.

"Hey, buddy, wanna help me out?
Now, don't go bein' cheap."
Jeff lunged at the man saying,
"Go to sleep."

He slit Santas throat,
While he squirmed and thrashed,
But there was no escaping,
Being cut and being slashed.

The drunk fell to the ground,
With a noticeable thud
His pupils started to widen,
As he choked on his blood.

Jeff grabbed Santas suite,
Soaked with crimson water,
That's when he knew,
He could start his Christmas slaughter.

When he achieved his looked,
He was on his way,
But not before he hijacked Santas car,
Or, I mean, his sleigh.

He drove threw a small neighborhood,
Rather quiet and kind,
The perfect setting for what,
Jeff was planning in his mind.

His plan was to sneak into each home,
All of the parents he'd kill,
Murdering almost the whole neighborhood,
To get his holiday thrill.

Jeff chuckled maniacally,
Stopping at the first house on the block,
At how upset this town would be,
Boy, would they be in for a shock.

He could just imagine it,
All of the children on Christmas day,
To see that mommy and daddy,
Were some twisted psychos prey.

He got out of the car,
And trudged through the snow,
Then he scaled the side of the house,
Up to somebodys window.

Through the window, he saw the parents,
Dreaming their Christmas dreams,
"It's a little too quiet in there,
Let's see if I can't get 'em to scream."

He snuck through the window,
And crouched by the bed,
He withdrew his knife,
And balanced it on daddys head.

He poked at daddy dearest,
Who awoke to the face of evil,
The man let out a gasp of fear,
"Yeah. I have that effect on people."

Jeff slammed the knife through his skull,
The mother screamed and tried to run,
But Jeff caught up and gutted her,
He seemed to be having a lot of fun.

When he was done with the mother,
He wrote his slogan on the wall,
But then he heard little footsteps,
Making there way down the hall.

He shot out of the room,
Then he slammed the door,
He couldn't let the child see,
His masterpiece of gore.

In the hallway he met,
A young little girl,
With eyes a bright blue,
And hair of blonde curl.

The girl looked at Jeff,
All dressed in Santas gear,
Her eyes lit up with excitement,
And her voice filled with cheer.

"Santa! I can't believe it's you!"
This was the best moment of her life,
Then she looked to his side, and asked,
"What are you doing with that knife?"

"It's, uh, for cutting the turkey.
I'm making sure it's fresh for tomorrow."
She glared at the knife again and said,
"I've got a better one for you to borrow."

She led him to the kitchen,
And opened up the drawer,
His eyes were fixated on a knife,
That he just couldn't ignore.

The monstrous knife with a serrated edge,
Put his bloody weapon to shame,
He pulled it from the drawer thinking,
'This will be better for my reindeer game.'

"Will this work for you Santa?
Did I help you out?"
Jeff patted the girls head with praise,
And said "Without a doubt."

He sent the girl back to bed,
And made his way out of the door,
He hopped in his car and continued,
With his night of unspeakable horror.

From home to home he went,
Having a ball with his slaughter,
Leaving behind a special present,
For every son and every daughter.

He decorated the trees with intestines,
And filled their stockings with eyes,
He made quick work of the parents,
Making sure the kids couldn't hear their cries.

He propped up his victims,
On the couch in the living room,
Placing their heads in their laps,
Making a rather picturesque tomb.

By the time he had finished,
He could see the early light of day,
He ditched the costume, got in the car,
And ended his night of horrid play.

His first annual Christmas killing,
Was very brutal, I must confess,
But we all know, that in his eyes,
He saw it as his greatest success.

That small town won't be the same,
They will forever live in fear,
Because in the back of their minds, they know,
That he'll do the same thing every year.

So, for those of you who live,
In a town of small population,
Be warned and prepare,
For a night of gore and devastation.

Sleep with a gun, lock everything up,
And don't forget this little thriller,
If you don't want to be the next victim,
Of the infamous, Jeff the killer.


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