Punishing the Unpunishable

Ah, the thrill of the hunt. My job as a servant of Krampus is never easy, but it’s never boring either. I get to traipse through the snow-covered streets, searching for the naughty adults who think they’re above the law. Or in this case, the naughty list. My eyes scan the crowds, looking for that telltale twinkle in the eye, the sneer on the face. I love how they try to hide it, but I can smell it. I can taste it. And I always get my prey. It’s almost… exhilarating.

But sometimes, the thrill of the hunt becomes the thrill of the seduction. I have to admit, I’ve had my fair share of encounters with the naughty ones. They’re always so eager to please, so willing to give in to their baser desires. And I’m more than happy to oblige. It’s a strange dichotomy, really. I’m supposed to be punishing them, but in the end, I’m the one who’s being punished. By my own desires, by my own twisted sense of pleasure. And I wouldn’t have it any other way.

I’ve had my fair share of battles with my own kind, the happy elves who still believe in the spirit of Christmas. They think I’m cruel, that I’m corrupting the values of the season. But I know the truth. The truth is, the naughty ones are just more fun. And who doesn’t love a good sin, anyway? The sweet taste of rebellion, the thrill of getting away with it. It’s what makes life worth living, if you ask me. And I’m not about to give that up anytime soon.