Author's Notes: Yes, so this is a holiday-fic. I certainly hope people enjoy it. I disclaim the Castlevania series, Nintendo, Apple, etc. So, yeah, please review!

Selling your soul to Santa

Simon Belmont sprinted his way down the haunted corridors of the evil Count Dracula's castle, The walls oozed blood and bats screeched as they flew and whisped by him.

The notorious vampire killer, clutching his holy leather whip, was searching for the prince of darkness, wanting to slay him and put an end to his wicked tyranny on the peaceful land of Transylvania.

As he dashed through the twisting and dark halls of Castlevania, skeletal warriors clutching rapiers dotted with droplets of blood . The skeletal warriors raised their swords, and they hissed menacingly, exhibiting their thirst for blood.

Simon stopped, glared at them, and he reared back his arm, preparing his powerful attack. He sent the whip's tail forward, crushing one of the skeletal warrior's skull with a mighty whiplash. The other turned to look at it's destroyed comrade, and it raised it's sword once more, to avenge it's fallen brother.

The skeleton began swinging it's sword, charging at him. The skeletal warrior reared it's sword back, and tried for a stab at the vampire killer.

But Simon was much faster, and he back-flipped right out of it's way, leaving the skeletal warrior vulnerable for a second. As soon as Simon landed on his feet, he swung the whip in a horizontal manner, slashing off the lower half of the skeletal warrior's body.

The skeletal warrior stared down, completely flabbergasted that his legs were now missing. It stared up at Belmont again, only to see him raise his whip one more, and lash it vertically at it's face. The last thing the skeleton heard before it faced the eternal darkness was the sound of a whip cracking.

The vampire slayer continued on, clutching his whip and his fists clenched, sprinteing down the halls, taking turns with the sounds of blades sharpening and the screeching of vampire bats coming from every direction.

Finally, Simon entered into Dracula's ghastly chamber. Bats clung from the rooftops, and ghoulish paintings hung on the walls, and the Count's coffin sat in the background.

And in the middle of it all, sat the wicked Count Dracula on his throne. He wore his colossal black cape, his hair was spiky and silver, and his eyes glowed a menacing crimson color.

Dracula stood up and smiled a toothy grin, revealing his sharp, vampirical fangs.
"Ahhhhh," he said, in his sinister, whispery voice, "yet another Belmont hath cometh to defeat me."

Simon clutched his whip, and he replied, "In the name of my ancestors, you will be vanquished once again!"

Thou hast done well, lad," replied the lord of darkness, "but ye doth not have an idea of who thou is reckoning with. Ye shall perish here. Thy flesh shall be consumed by the maggots and the living dead, and I shall drink thy blood!"

Dracula stretched out his arm, and fireballs began firing out of his palm like massive, flaming bullets. But Simon held his ground, and he whipped out a bottle of holy water. He yanked off the cork on the top, and he splashed it in front of him.

When the water touched the fireballs, the fire simply did not go out like ordinary fire. They seemed to screech out like the sound of a demon in pain.

Dracula arched his eyebrow and frowned, and then, he raised his arm, and snapped his fingers. He vanished in a puff of smoke for a second, and then he reappeared just as quickly as he vanished right in front of the heroic vampire hunter.

Dracula extended his claws, and he lunged for Simon. But Simon was fast, and he back-flipped out of Dracula's grasp.

He then reared his arm back once more, but instead of lashing his whip vertically, he whipped it horizontally and the leather of the holy whip burned against Dracula's skin.

"Aaaaaaaaaaaaack!" snarled Dracula in pain, as the holy powers of the whip acted as fire upon his demonic flesh, "Thy whip! It's the holy whip!"

Simon smirked and then prepared for another devastating attack towards the king of all vampires.

But Dracula, using his evil magical powers, summoned his sword made by demons and devils. It appeared in his hand by a puff of smoke, and he stuck it out in front of him.

The whip wrapped around the sword, and it instantly turned into a tug-of-war. Simon began pulling back on the whip, trying to get it untangled from the sword, and Dracula pulled back on his sword, trying to yank the whip from his hands.

It was an epic struggle. The two battled fiercely, neither backing down. As Simon yanked full force, he began yelling, "Stupid Dracula! Stupid, stupid Dracula! Stupid cheater! Stupid, stupid…"

"…Stupid, retarded Dracula…"

Rigby mashed on the buttons tirelessly, as he watched his tiny 8-bit character go from left to right, dodging Dracula's pixilated fireballs.

The raccoon had been playing this game for almost seven hours straight. No bathroom breaks or pauses to have a snack or refreshments. He went straight into the game to kill Dracula, allowing nothing to hold him back.

After so many continues and slaying so many terrifying ghosts, ghouls, and goblins, he finally was at the big cheese himself; Dracula.

Every few seconds, Rigby would make Simon leap and dodge the little fireballs that Count Dracula would shoot from the palms of his hands.


Mordecai, Rigby's much more relaxed and assertive main-man, called to him from the other room. Of course, Rigby, being occupied with his gaming, completely ignored his friend's calling.

Mordecai popped his head into the barely-lit room, and witnessed Rigby sitting in front of the television, as the two little figures on screen had a pixilated battle to the death.

The blue-jay arched his eyebrow as he saw Rigby sitting on the hard floor, with his back hunched and his eyes wide and bloodshot from hours of staring at the old, highly-dated television set.

"Rigby?" asked Mordecai, approaching Rigby, "You're still playing that game?"

As a response, the raccoon turned his head towards the blue-jay, bared his teeth, squinted his eyes, and hissed like an enraged cat, with little droplets of saliva gushing out. Then, he instantly turned his attention back to the game.

Mordecai raised his eyebrows, and tilted his head in confusion. He had been waiting for Rigby to finish his game so that they could both go to the mall. It was Christmas Eve, and the shopping malls and gift stores were packed with last-minute shoppers.

But, to the bird's dismay, Rigby was still not finished yet. But, judging by the look of Rigby and Dracula's life bars, it looks like things were just about to end.

Mordecai, shaking his head and deciding that they could spare a few minutes, sat down next to Rigby on the floor, watching the screen as Simon and Dracula attacked each other back and forth.

Rigby was, literally, hypnotized by the screen. He was staring at it mindlessly, drool slithering down his lips as he blatantly repeated, "Can't sleep, clown will eat me…can't sleep, clown will eat me…"

Simon whipped and whipped, until finally, Dracula burst into tiny flames (a horrible way to die for an NES video game sprite).

The second the victory music came on, and the credits began to roll, Rigby dropped the controller, staring at the text as it scrolled down, with his eyes bulging out and his mouth hanging open.

"Woooooo!" shrieked Rigby, as he stood up and began hopping up and down in excitement.He raised his controller high above his head, and he hurled the controller right at the console screaming, "Touchdown!"

The console burst into a million little pieces of plastic, and Mordecai gasped in horror. He bent down and picked up some of the broken pieces in his feathery hands, and groaned, "Aw, man! That was a collector's item! We could've made a fortune!"

His words were drowned out by Rigby's wild cheering in the background. Mordecai turned around, still clutching the shattered pieces of his beloved, valuable gaming console, and he rolled his eyes at the sight of Rigby doing the Running man' while chanting, "Whoomp, there it is!"


Rigby instantly stopped his 80's-esque dancing and turned his head towards Mordecai with his eyebrows arched.


"Stop dancing!" scolded Mordecai.

Rigby rolled his eyes and scoffed. "Pfft, fine," replied Rigby, crossing his furry arms, "it's not like I broke anything that was valuable to you or something."

"Ok, dude, you had your fun. Now we gotta go to the mall, to like, pick up a gift for Pops." Mordecai ran his feathery fingers through his "feather-hair", stressed because of the fact that he had to attend the overly-crowded mall for a cheap, small trinket that would serve as a gift to Pops, who would pretty much accept a clump of dirt as a gift as long as it had a pretty ribbon tied on it.

"What?" interrogated Rigby, scratching behind his ear and raising his eyebrow once more, "I thought you already purchased him a gift last week when you went to the mall yourself…"

Last week at the mall…

Mordecai had spotted Margaret as an assistant elf for the mall Santa. She was dressed in a lime-green elf costume, complete with pointed boots with tiny golden Christmas bells tied to the ends of them, and stockings and sleeves with red and white stripes on them.

The blue-jay hid behind a few large potted plants, and he observed her carefully.

"Whoa…" Mordecai whispered aloud to himself, "Margaret looks awesome as an elf…I wonder how she'd look like as a leprechaun…"

"Uh…yeah, well…somethin' came up and I had to cancel that. But-but-but we have to go today, dude. It's Christmas eve, the place is packed."

Mordecai's eyes swung nervously from left to right, trying to hide his embarrassment. Rigby, however, arched his eyebrow, and put his paw to his chin.

"Hmmm…", muttered Rigby, closing one eye, as if he were inspecting Mordecai's conscious like a doctor does a patient's records. "Something tells me you're lying, like that instead of looking for a gift for Pops, you were just staring at Margaret in some goofy costume for the entire time..."

Mordecai's face drooped down, and a small sweat began to trickle down the side of his head.

But then, Rigby placed his paws on his stomach and threw his head back in laughter. "But, I must be crazy. I mean, Margaret in a costume? It's Christmas eve, not Halloween! What kind of costume of would she be wearing? An elf costume? Yeah, right!"

Rigby continued chuckling, amused by his own joke. Mordecai forced a pretend grin on his face, and he bared his teeth. Wiping away a few drops of sweat from his forehead with his index finger, he replied, "Yeah…heh-heh-heh…right…"

Mordecai cleared his throat, getting rid of any nervous cracks that were in his voice, and he said, "Anyway, Rigby, we're gonna leave in about ten minutes, so get ready, would ya?"

Mordecai left the room, and Rigby turned back to the television screen, now fuzzy and gray with static. He scratched his head, and he stared off into space proudly, remembering his fierce encounter with Dracula.

"Man," said Rigby, placing his paws on his hips and puffing out his chest, "I'm a vampire killer, baby!" He began imagining himself dressed as Simon Belmont, whipping a bunch of terrifying demons that went bump in the night with his magical whip, like Ronald McDonald or the Teletubbies.

As Rigby imagined this scenario in his head, he said, "Yeah, that's me. Rigby the vampire killer…yeah…I'm the man…"

The raccoon, still slightly lost in his fantasies, approached the television and set it to his favorite channel: "The Conspiracy Theory Channel".

Meanwhile, Mordecai was walking around the kitchen, searching for his hoodie and Benson's car keys. As he searched, he thought about Christmas day. He had gotten Rigby a box of delicious chocolates. They were Mordecai's favorites, and he was sure Rigby was going like them too.

Before he continued looking, he popped his head out of the doorway into the living room, and said, "Hey Rigby, you'll never guess what I got you for Christmas…"

He saw Rigby sitting on the couch, eating chocolates of multiple shapes, sizes, and colors from a green and red box and watching television. It was Rigby's Christmas present. Somehow, he had found the box before Mordecai could finish wrapping it, and was already eating it.

Rigby turned to Mordecai, his cheeks filled with mashed chocolate, and replied, with his mouth full, "Oh man, I can't wait to see it."

Rigby then turned to the box of chocolates, and said, "Hey Mordecai, do you know who the nutcase was who bought these crappy chocolates? I mean, they taste like turds! I'm sure glad I'm not getting something stupid and crappy like this for Christmas."

He then turned to Mordecai and asked, "So, what were ya' sayin', buddy?"

Mordecai blinked twice and said, "Uh…nevermind, dude." And his head disappeared back into the kitchen.

Rigby stopped chewing, and raised his eyebrow. He turned back to the television screen, and asked himself aloud, "What's his problem?"

The announcer on the television began speaking;

"And now, back to 'The Truth Revealed', Christmas edition."

"Oh man," cried the excited Rigby, throwing Mordecai's Christmas present aside carelessly, "This must be true! It's on the 'Conspiracy Channel'!"

The narrator began reciting the documentary's script;

"All of us believed in him at some point as children. The man with the red hat, the long and white beard, the mittens, the black boots, the trademark laugh, the sleigh and the eight magical reindeer. We all know him by a common name, 'Santa Claus'.

To the ordinary person, we often see this man as a kind, warm-hearted, and jolly figure who leaves presents for good little children around the world.

But, luckily, our researchers have devised their own theories as to how Santa came to be as he is now.

The real story is this: The man known as 'Santa Claus' was actually the most evil and cruel human being of all time. Evidence of this is his name, which is actually an anagram of "Satan Claws".

Until finally, the Great Beyond punished him for his wicked ways, by condemning him to become a devil to work for Satan. However, knowing that this was exactly what Santa had wanted, The Big Boss upstairs placed a curse on him.

For one thousand years, Santa's punishment would be to become a kind, warm-hearted, figure who leaves gifts and represents peace on Earth. But, in reality, it is a long, grueling punishment for an evil demon, who, after his debt to the heavenly society is paid, will engineer chaos and destruction among humanity forevermore.

The demon's name?

Santa Claus.

Now, you know the truth…"

Rigby stared at the television screen in awe, amazed at what he had just heard. Santa was actually a wicked demon who needed to be stopped by any means necessary.

Rigby gulped, and realized that it was up to him to stop the evil lord of darkness known as "Kris Kringle". But how? He was just a raccoon.

That is, until, he remembered that he's a vampire killer!

Rigby began thinking out loud.

"S-Santa…Santa is evil! I gotta stop him!"

At that moment, Rigby sprang up from the couch, and he began searching for the proper attire. He ran into his room, and began raiding the closet.

After seconds of tireless searching, he found good enough clothing. He found a neck-tie (which would be used as a head-band tied around his forehead), an old torn vest, and a pair of spiky snow boots (whom he had no idea who they belonged to).

And for the final touch, he found an old jump rope made from plastic, which would serve as his "holy whip".

Rigby then stood in front of his mirror, with his vest and snow boots on, and he stared at his reflection. He tried to appear tough and strong. He raised the neck-tie up to his forehead, and he tied it around his head.

"Grrrr…" he growled in front of the mirror, "I'm gonna restore peace to the Earth!" He grabbed the jump rope, and he snapped it, and he smiled as he imagined himself whipping Santa.

Meanwhile, at the mall…

Mordecai and Rigby walked through the massive crowds of people, searching for empty stores so they could purchase a gift and get out of that hellhole. But it was difficult, since dozens of people were at every store at once.

"Ugggh," groaned Mordecai, making his way through the people, "At this rate, we're never gonna get a gift for Pops."

Mordecai turned to Rigby and said, "I got an idea, Rigby. Let's split up and we'll meet here in exactly one hour. That's just enough time to make it back and wrap the gift before Pops comes back from frolicking in the snow."

Rigby thought about this for a moment, and realized that it was perfect. While Mordecai was out shopping for Pops' present, Rigby would find Santa Claus and destroy him there.

So, Rigby rubbed his paws together and replied, "Yeah…sure, Mordecai. Sure…"

The blue-jay gave an awkward stare to Rigby, as he saw him laughing evilly and rubbing his paws together like a mad scientist.

"Uh….yeah…whatever, dude."

Mordecai then walked away, and Rigby pulled out his jump rope, and began his hunt for the evil Santa Claus.

Rigby pushed his way across fat people, skinny people, kids, old people, young people, bald people, hairy people, etc. The raccoon finally got out of the huge crowd, and began looking from left to right, trying to find the location.

Christmas ornaments hanging upon the glass ceilings on the roof and elf-assistants on their lunch breaks gave clues as to where the evil Santa might be.

Rigby clutched his whip tighter, and his eyes moved from left to right. He squinted, trying to find the most remote evidence of Santa's lair. Until finally, right behind him, he heard a little boy's voice say, "Mommy, can I go see Santa?"

Rigby's eyes widened, and his mouth hung open when he heard these words. His head turned around quicker than his body.

A mother held her child in her arms, and he heard her reply, "Of course, dear."

The boy squealed and she put him down on the floor, so she could take him by the hand and lead him to Santa. Rigby, however, sprinted up to the kid and he yelled, "Hey! You know where Santa is, boy?"

The little boy smiled and said, "I sure do! He's near the Apple store!"

Rigby grabbed the boy by the shoulders and began shaking him. "What is he doing? Can't you see he's trying to destroy humanity? Tell me where he is, kid!"

The mother scooped up her son. The boy, nearly crying after getting yelled at by a slightly insane raccoon, told his mother in a trembling, "Mommy, the crazy weasel wants to hurt Santa!"

The mother flashed Rigby a repulsed glare, and said, "What's my boy ever done to you?"

Rigby held up his jump rope, shaking it in a tightened paw/fist, and he snarled, "I need to slay Santa!"

The mother groaned, rolled her eyes, and she turned around, uttering, "I'm calling security!" Rigby stared at her for a moment, confused, and shook her head.

He realized that these people were blind to the truth. Santa would come down and steal all their souls. Rigby shook his head, and stared at his "magical" whip. Would he find Santa Claus in time?

He had almost given up hope, until he heard another child speaking to their parents about meeting Santa. The parents happily agreed and decided to pay him a visit.

Rigby smiled as he observed the happy little child and their parents walking merrily to see Santa. Rigby stared down at his whip once again, and he squeezed it in hands, ready to rid the world of the evil Santa.

After secretly following them for a few moments, the parents turned around, and stared at him directly. Rigby gasped and his eyes widened.

The mother asked, "Excuse me, are you stalking us?" Rigby blinked twice, and he gave them a toothy grin.

"No," said Rigby, giggling nervously, "I wasn't stalking you guys. I was just…" Rigby struggled to find an excuse. But suddenly, he had an idea.

"I was just…following you guys without your permission. I wasn't stalking you."

The couple and their child arched their eyebrows, suspicious about this bizarre character that they had just met. But then, they brightened up and said, "Oh, ok then. Happy Holidays!"

They turned around and went their way, with Rigby flicking some sweat off of his forehead in relief. Rigby then continued following them, until finally…there it was.

The sign above read, "Santa's workshop".

It was his evil palace made from ice. It had a massive Christmas tree that stretched up to the roof of the mall, with ornaments, candy canes, golden tinsel, multi-colored lights, and a colossal golden star on top.

Around him were his evil little cronies, a male and a female elf who appeared rather bored, almost as if this were some kind of job for them to make a quick buck. They prepared the camera and the decorations around Santa's throne.

And in the middle of it all, sat the evil lord of darkness himself, Santa Claus. He had a ghostly-white beard, a blood-red suit and hat, slimy-green mittens, viciously-pointed black boots, and a smile that exhibited pure malevolent intentions.

Rigby gasped, and he clutched his whip so tightly that it hurt his paws. It was all up to him, now. Rigby was the only one who could purge the world from this monster, the sole figure who could vanquish this beast from existence.

As Rigby planned his attack, little kids would run up to Santa to try and take a photo with him.

"Ho-Ho-Ho!" chuckled Santa, trying to sound in character, "Merry Christmas, boys and girls!" One little girl approached Santa slowly with her head down, trying to avoid his gaze.

Santa picked her up and placed her on his lap, and asked, "And what would you like for Christmas, little boy?"

The girl gulped and asked, "Santa, my cat, Mr. Bobo, was hit by a car when I was school one day. Do you think you could bring him back?"

"Ho-Ho-Ho," replied Santa, "Of course I'll get you that football, Johnny! I'm Santa! I'm magical and I can do anything!" He patted her on the head and placed her on the floor, "Ho-Ho-Ho! Have a very Merry Christmas, Billy!"

The girl walked away, confused as ever, but Santa was still as happy as ever. Rigby, however, was itching to attack. He pulled out his whip, extending it to prepare himself.

"Three…" began Rigby, squinting his eyes and sweat beginning to stream down his face in nervousness and excitement. "Two…"

"Merry Christmas!" declared Santa, standing up and waving to the crowd of kids and adults.


Rigby leapt as high as he could possibly get, and he had the whip reared back, ready to smack Santa's face until it was as red as his suit.

"Hyaaaaaah!" shrieked Rigby, as he came down, ready for a duel to the death with Santa. Santa, however, was still in his act.

"Ho-Ho-Ho!" continued Santa, laughing heartily, with his hands on his big, round belly, "Ho-Ho-…HOLY CRAP!"

Rigby came down full force, whipping the jump rope as hard as he could, actually tearing up some of the fabric the chair was made out of.

But Santa, despite his heavy size, was rather quick. He had dodged it right before Rigby's whip could hit him.

Rigby stood on the chair, panting heavily and his eyes were wide and bloodshot.

Santa began backing away, with his hands out in front of him. In a very deep, grouchy and raspy voice, Santa exclaimed, "Hey…relax, kid. I…I don't want any trouble."

The crazed raccoon shook his head, and replied, "I'm gonna send you back to Hades, demon!" Rigby reared his paw backwards once more, and sent forth his "mighty" whip again. Santa dodged it a second time.

This time, however, Santa held up his gloved fists in a fighting position, and he replied, "Don't make me do this, man. I have a black-belt!"

Rigby leapt off the throne, and began making wild animal screeching sounds. His tongue moved in 360-degree circles, and his cries came out in high-pitched wailing sounds.

Jolly ol' Saint Nick, however, cracked his knuckles and said, "I warned you that I have a black-belt…"

Santa yanked off the black, leather belt that was tightened around his waist and said, "See? Now I'm gonna use my black-belt!"

He began whipping it like crazy, trying to hit Rigby with it. But Rigby was clever as well. Rigby gazed up, and he whipped one of the branches on the artificial Christmas tree. The whip wrapped around it, and it clung onto the branch. Rigby quickly climbed the whip, and avoided all of Santa's attacks.

He stared down at Santa, who was staring at him and whipping his belt around like crazy. He began climbing up the tree, and he heard Kris Kringle's voice screaming, "Get down here, you furry little turd! Santa's gonna teach you some manners!"

Finally, Rigby reached the top of the three.

By now, security was all around the photo booth, and people were beginning to call 911. The raccoon then grabbed the very top of the tree, the part right below the Nativity star, and he hollered down below, "Merry Christmas, ya filthy animal!"

Using all of his force, he yanked backwards on the branch, causing it to tilt over. Ornaments all over the trees began rattling violently as the tree fell over like a straw in a gust of wind.

Santa's eyes bulged out of their sockets as he stared at the tree coming down on him. Kids and adults began screaming and running out of the way as the tree was collapsing.

Santa stretched his hands out in front of him, and in a voice much deeper than his original, he screamed, "Noooooooooooo!"

The tree collapsed on top of him, breaking every bone in his jolly old body. The people all stared, shocked at what just happened. The only body part of Santa that was exposed was his arm. His sleeve was torn badly and one of his finger-tips was showing due to the mitten getting ripped. With his unbroken arm, he waved a little white flag back and forth.

Rigby stood up from among the rubble of the Christmas tree, a little bruised and scratched. He placed his paws on his hips, and he said, "Good people of the mall…you are now safe from harm's way."

He pointed at Santa's arm protruding from underneath the giant Christmas tree, and he said, "The wicked demon known as 'Santa Claus' is now defeated. His evil spell is upon us no more. We may now go home in peace."

The kids, the parents, the bystanders, the security guards, and the cops all stared up at Rigby (who had a toothy grin on his face), and stared down at the tree and Santa.

The entire mall was entirely silent for three whole seconds, and then, a little boy in the background yelled, "He hurt Santa!"

"He ruined Christmas!"

"Get him!"

Every single adult and kis that was nearby began to chase Rigby. Rigby leapt off of the tree, realizing that everyone did not know the secret of Santa, so they were clearly brainwashed.

Meanwhile, Mordecai was exiting a store with Pops' present; a little plastic puppy-dog with large, blue, soulful eyes with a sign tied around it's neck saying, "Happy fourth of July!"

As Mordecai stared at it in the palm of his feathery hand, he heard the angry crowd right around the corner. He arched his eyebrow and put the present inside one of the pockets of his hoodie, and he said, "What the 'H'?"

Rigby came dashing around the corner with the angry mob behind him in hot pursuit. Mordecai simply shook his head when he saw this, and slammed his forehead with his palm. As Rigby approached him, Mordecai began running right along with him, and yelled over the screaming crowd, "WHAT…DID…YOU…DO?"


Both of them went dashing out into the parking lot, with the crowd still following them out there. Mordecai yanked out the keys from his pocket, and he shoved it into the lock, and Rigby leapt in after him.

He jammed the keys into the ignition, and he zipped out of there, leaving the crowd in the dust, shaking their fists violently and screaming like maniacs.

While they were on the highway driving home, Mordecai asked, "Dude, what'd ya do to get that crowd so pissed off?"

Rigby simply crossed his arms, and replied in a very solemn voice, "I did them all favors, Mordecai. I did 'em all favors…"

The Next Day was Christmas morning, and Rigby and Mordecai were waking up to the sound of Christmas bells outside.

After their small morning gift-exchanging (Pops was very pleased with his gift), Mordecai and Rigby flipped on the television and began watching parades and Christmas movies.

As they both watched a massive Christmas parade, a massive float filled with Santas appeared, singing Christmas carols joyfully with people applauding and taking photos.

Rigby gasped, and collapsed on his knees. He couldn't believe it. He had triumphed over Santa, and yet he still lives. Dozens of them!

Rigby began shaking his fist towards the sky, and he yelled, "Curse you, Santa Claaaaaaaaaaaaus!"

And somewhere in the North Pole, a mystical crystal ball showed an image of Rigby screaming to the heavens in rage and agony. A demonic figure with glowing red eyes, a snow-white beard, razor-sharp teeth, and a trademark laugh stared at the orb with an evil grin.


Author's Notes: Sorry if this story wasn't as funny as I imagined it. I tried to make it sort of funny, and as a tribute to Castlevania (a great video game franchise). I must admit, I'm not extremely satisfied with it, but I sort of had to rush it, since Christmas is tomorrow (or at least while I was writing this it was). But, I hope you enjoy it, nonetheless. So, Happy Holidays and have a happy new year!