Herr Fritz von Oppenheim paced restlessly across his bedroom, his cane making soft, tapping noises with every step he took. He walked over to the window and gazed at the snow storm ravaging the streets outside. Had it not been for that "gift" from LuckyLucy, he would definitely have been freezing his balls off outside. He closed his eyes for a moment and sighed. It had been approximately a month since he had started working for the organization, colloquially named The Ivory Tower. Since then, he had finally scraped together enough money, with some help from his boss lady, to start a shooting range business of his own, complete with his own residential apartment on the floor above the business. Everything was fine and dandy.

Or at least, it was until some bastard had decided to steal his beloved hot rod! Fritz went over the meticulously planned insults once again in his head. He had called the person who had stolen the vehicle a wide variety of names, ranging from questioning said person's parentage to highlighting their penile deformities (under the assumption that it was indeed a male). The pent up frustration of being stuck in a metric fuck-ton of snow, coupled with severe sexual starvation drove Fritz over the edge, and he decided that drastic measures needed to be taken against the heartless bastards who had kidnapped his beloved vehicle. He stormed down the stairs, his crippled leg being dragged long uselessly like a unionized worker in a factory on the brink of shutting down, and he walked into Officer Charlena Davis' room without knocking.

The worthless 200 lbs. of corrupt policeman was happily snoozing at his desk, no doubt reliving his nightly encounters with who knows what the fuck in his head. When you have a name as screwed up as Charlena Davis, one can only imagine what kinds of twisted fantasies such a pathetic excuse for a human being may harbour. Raising his cane, Fritz walloped Officer Davis square between the buttocks. One of these days, he might just end up forcefully sodomizing the prick with his cane. Officer Davis became instantly upright with a squeal and looked at Fritz with a mixture of disgust and annoyance on his face. "The fuck do you want Jerry?" he barked at Fritz, using the old nickname for German soldiers during the Great War.

Fritz hated the nickname and was about to shove his cane up the man's nostril when he controlled himself. He had bigger fish to fry this day. "Get ready asschole.  Ve are koing for ein driffe." he told Officer Davis, walking towards the door. "Oh, und pring your schotgun vith you." he added before exiting the room. Twenty minutes later, they were speeding along the snowy roads, Officer Davis complaining about poor driving conditions, and Fritz reminding him that he gave zero fucks about what he thought, and that he could very well crash the car any time he felt like, as long as he ended up killing the men who stole the hot rod and ensuring that Fritz himself lived in the process. He would also have awarded Officer Davis bonus points if he would have managed to get himself killed too.

Their first stop was the police station where Officer Davis ostensibly worked for two days a week while being on a "special assignment" with Fritz the rest of the time. He had filed a report with the cunts in blue the day he had discovered the theft, and despite having a week all to themselves, the police had achieved little aside from pouring cheap and illegal whisky down their greasy throats. Fritz walked into the main office with Davis in tow, mentally flipping off every cop in the room who looked outraged at the blatant interruption. Once inside, Officer Davis began to pull down his sets of files, and the two began to go through the documentation of the investigation. While the police were indeed grossly incompetent when it came to acting upon evidence, they were pretty diligent in gathering the evidence itself and documenting the procedure.

It was dreary work, and the duo spent two hours reading, scratching their heads and thinking about naked women whenever their minds strayed from the subject matter at hand. After a while, Officer Davis pulled out a joint of marijuana, lit it and began to smoke. It smelled absolutely dreadful, and Fritz began to cough and gag at the stench. Indeed, he felt sorry for the rest of Davis' underlings, who had no choice but to put up with the crap. When your boss turned out to be a corrupt cop, your only option was to fondle his balls. Judging by how terrified some of the constables were of Davis, Fritz suspected that the fondling was not entirely metaphorical in this case. Soon enough, Fritz was unable to see anything in the room due to the smoke, and Officer Davis offered the joint to him. "It will clear your head." he told him with a placid smile. 

Reluctantly, Fritz accepted the joint and inhaled. Anything to get rid off this sensation. He immediately spat out most of the smoke, and coughed as though Bubba from the prison shower had forced him to inhale his cock up his nostril. Not only was the substance absolutely disgusting, it also burned his lungs while going down. Davis patted him gently on the back and told him to give it another go, saying that smoking was the key to unlocking the meaning of life, or some other philosophical shit like that. His mind numb with the smoke, Fritz obeyed, and soon he was able to inhale the fragrant smoke deeply.

In fact, everything became oh so much clearer. Truly, whoever invented this magical herb deserved to be made the next president. Well, perhaps the one who invented vaginas would be a tough contender, but not much else could stand up to the current sensation Fritz was experiencing. He turned to Officer Davis to ask his opinion on whether weed trumped vaginas or the other way around, when he noticed that Santa Claus was hovering an inch or so above his head, dangling his almighty sack, packed with "presents". "Ho Ho Ho!" Santa said happily, and Fritz wondered indignantly if he was being called a whore. He was about to give this perverted stalker, who crept down the chimneys in search of children, a piece of his mind when Santa pointed to a line of numbers and letters on a page before him.

The universe folded in on itself and highlighted the writing before Fritz, which magically reassembled itself into an address. An address in fact to a warehouse owned by Big Joe who had become Fritz's rival ever since he had set foot in Chicago. Fritz sprung up from his chair in anger and yelled "son of a bitch" in his mind, although he heard his mouth utter "Daughder of ein basdard!". He supposed it was quiet alright. He couldn't really remember if Joe was a man or a woman. He marched out of the police station, with Officer Davis following him. They both stepped into the car, and Fritz somehow found himself at the wheel.

He looked to his right and saw that Officer Davis was grinning at him with a look that heavily implied the poor policeman had been lobotomized against his wishes. Trying his best to remember how to drive, Fritz managed to yank and turn all the instruments in the vehicle, and get the damn thing moving, singing "Jingle Bells" in German all the way. Santa was gliding above the car on a pair of reindeer wearing German Great War helmets, and Fritz had no doubt that he was leading them to the location.

Upon arriving, Fritz and Officer Davis stepped out of the vehicle, and walked towards the warehouse, both their pupils dilated to extraordinary sizes as a result of the weed. The guard at the door attempted to halt them, and Fritz was about to tell the man to go and fuck himself, when Officer Davis stepped forth and clubbed the poor sod to death with his shotgun, screaming verses from the Bible at the top of his lungs. Why he didn't just shoot the bastard, Fritz would never know. Regardless, he had other things to worry about. Santa was beckoning him forward, and he pointed at the door. 

"Get zat door oben!" he barked to Officer Davis, who promptly complied by walking over to the door knob, and attempting to unzip his pants. Even in his inebriated state, Fritz realized what the moron was trying to do, and he managed to stop him from crippling his manhood just in time. "Don't sdick your schlange in zere fool! Kick it oben." he yelled. Officer Davis obeyed like a mindless marionette and soon, the two were in the warehouse. Big Joe was nowhere in sight, but three of his men were inside. Fritz's hot rod was also sitting on an elevated platform behind them.

He felt his fury burst forth like a massive climax after holding the orgasm in for a full hour. "Basdards! Slimy motherfuckers!" Fritz yelled at them, pulling out his Luger and firing at random in the general direction of the three men. Officer Davis, jolted into action by the sound of gunfire, also suddenly recalled how to use a shotgun, and joined in the fray, peppering the three men with pellets. When the two were done, the three bodies before them were unrecognizable. But Fritz had no eyes for them. He was walking slowly towards his beloved hot rod, now drenched in a new paint job of red, splattered all over her gorgeous form.

He ran his hand lovingly over the bonnet while Officer Davis threw up all over the floor behind him at the sight of the mangled bodies. Weeping with joy, Fritz hugged his car, like two old lovers embracing after a lengthy ordeal. It would indeed be a "Mary" Christmas after all.......