[ WP ] : Santa accidentally triggers a nuclear war .

It's 11:08 PM AST and so far things have been running pretty smoothly. My elves on the ground in Baghdad report that cheer levels have risen significantly, and I have about 15 parcels to go until I move on up north. I raise the flaps on my sleigh and start my descent towards the blinking lights of an apartment complex that has shown significant good activity in the past few months. My HUD indicates at least 8 stockings have been hung up inside. I get my elf Simon on the radio, who has been diligently monitoring the local activity and has proven himself as one of my best intelligence officers. 
 
 `` Santa!!!'' Simon exclaims, panic in his voice. `` Pull up... pull up!!!'' `` Simon????'' I ask, startled by the message. `` What in the hell is wrong down there?'' I hear gunshots over the muffled radio transmission. `` It's....a....'' I hear a thud, followed by the tinkling sound of bells. I listen to the lonely sound of static but already know Simon's been shot, his bell-adorned elf cap knocked clean off by incoming sniper fire. I hear a faint whisper through the crackling airwaves. `` Traaaaap.'' 
 
 I cancel my approach and tighten my oxygen mask, gripping the throttle as I push it all the way forward to hit the afterburners, launching Sleigh Mk VIII up through the clouds. I tweak the knob on my comm system and get Gingerbread Carrier Group on the line. `` Big Man, what is your status?'' 
 
 `` Gingerbread, code cane, code cane. 20 clicks south of Baghdad, request Comet, Cupid, Donner, Blitzen. Repeat, Comet, Cupid, Donner, Blitzen, come in hot.'' 
 
 `` Roger that. ETA 15 minutes to your position. Hold at 35,000 feet Big Man.'' 
 
 I level out, the moon brilliant silver in the clear night sky. 
 
 Delivering presents to every good boy and girl in the world is not an easy job in the 21st century. Stinger missiles, mobile anti-air defenses and tense monitoring of international airspace necessitates that most of my elves spend their time tweaking and upgrading my sleigh. Sleigh Mk VIII most closely resembles an A-10 Warthog, with a shiny red reflective paint-job that makes it invisible to most radar and thermal imaging equipment. However, while coming in low to drop presents I am still very visible to the naked eye, and that's why sometimes naughty boys receive a couple hundred 20mm rounds of depleted uranium in their stockings. 
 
 I fly in a hold pattern for ten minutes before I hear from Reindeer B squadron, who has spotted a line of Anti-Air trucks on the road about 10 miles south of the city. They report the coordinates to Gingerbread Carrier group, which launches a candy cane missile towards the convoy. This should take the heat off us as we fly towards the city outskirts where Simon's killers are holed up, in bad need of a lump of coal. 
 
 I join in Reindeer B's formation, flicking the cover off of my trigger buttons. HUD shows a compound that likely serves as the base of operations for these grinches, judging by the fuel tanks outside and the heat signatures of the emplacements that my scanners pick up. I align the nose of my sleigh with the middle of the compound just as tracers start to whir past my cockpit windshield, the vibration from the near misses fueling my adrenaline wham wham wham. 
 
 `` Hostile spotted, 8 o'clock.'' Donner reports as he breaks from the formation, swooping down towards the muzzle flashes to our left. He opens up with his autocannon before firing off two air-to-ground missiles, which completely obliterate the row of vehicles, silencing them into twisted burning heaps of scrap metal. `` Whooo!!!'' Donner is the ace of Reindeer squadron, but he can also get hotheaded. `` Easy boy,'' I say. `` We're just getting started.'' Just as these prescient words pass my chubby, cookie crumb covered lips my missile lock alarm beings to blare. `` Motherfucker! Pop flares, pop flares!'' I bank hard right and dump flare like a hot string of Christmas lights out the back of the sleigh. Cupid, Donner and Blitzen follow suit, but Comet continues on his path, his plane still dark. `` Comet, report!'' I bark, craning my neck to follow his trajectory. `` Ejector's jammed!'' He shouts, `` Shit, shit, visual! I need a visual!'' I look down and see the missile streaking straight up towards him, about 4 seconds to impact at best. `` Eject, eject!'' His canopy pops and his seat blasts forward as the missile strikes his right wing, tearing it from the fuselage. I turn back hard and am relieved to see his chute deploy, although it is impossible to tell what his condition is in the dark night sky. Knowing he will likely be captured makes me feel a pit in the bottom of my big round belly, although he did pass evasion training with the highest marks. If anyone can make it out of there alive, Comet can. 
 
 The squadron regroups and starts again towards the compound, the radio abuzz with reindeer chatter about Comet. `` Focus up!'' I command. `` We'll send in our best elves to get him after the mission. But right now, I need your heads in the game.'' The deer comply. `` Affirmative big man, turn and burn.'' We swoop in, and our North Pole vengeance alights the compound in a vicious inferno of cluster coal and nogpalm, burning in massive streaking rows of hot white fire that burns the damn place to the ground like an unmonitored Christmas tree adorned with candles. `` For Comet, for Simon!!!'' The reindeer yell with glee. 
 
 But no sooner had our chuckles subsided, when news of grave import came right behind it. `` Big man, big man!'' Admiral Snowball of Gingerbread Carrier squeals into my headset. `` A missile launch has been detected! Trajectory unknown, origin is missile silo 50 clicks east of your location. Nuclear capability unconfirmed.'' I stare straight ahead as the radio goes silent. For a moment I am too stunned to speak, but finally I muster up the courage to say what needs to be said. `` Mother of God. Rudolph. Repeat: Commence Rudolph, Admiral Snowball.'' 
 
 `` Big man, confirm, Rudolph commencing. Require input of launch code.'' `` Sugar Plums.'' I say somberly into my headset. `` For God's sake, Sugar Plums.''
