Per 
"I'm so excited, I've been waiting for this for quite a while."
"Well were grateful for your purchase, Ms. Dakota." said Bob, the real estate agent.
Once they made it through the front door, Hannah was amazed." Just like the photos. You know, I fell in love with this place the moment I laid eyes on it on the website."
"Really?'' said the real estate agent, "Well, in that case, we've saved the best for last. Wait until you see the backyard, It's one of our highlights."
Both stepped out into the backyard, past the sliding glass door. What Hannah saw next took her breath away.
An assortment of flowers so grand, that they made up her features, not even the greatest botanical gardens of New-York could compete. The large garden filled the courtyard and ended in the shape of her face, reaching the large forest, that spanned acres beyond.
"Wow, this is—" her amazement switched to puzzlement, finally she recognized the image set in magnolias and carnations. "Hold on, is that- is that my face?"
"What the…" just as perplexed as she, the realtors face turned to the sound of shoveled dirt, "OH FUCK!"
Working the beds was a gray-haired crone, with a face that looked like leather, pasted on a skull. From a crack of a mouth, wrinkled, a withered old voice spoke,
"Nunquam, unquam locavit eam frigus !!"
"What?"
From under the layers of cloth, each stitched together from multicolored scraps, the old crone pulled out a clear white mug, of something… Piping hot."Nunquam, unquam locavit eam frigus…"
It was Hot Chocolate.
"What is going on?'' Hannah said just as Tom blasted the old woman with a fire hose, it took down the fence, hitting the neighbor's cat to death, who had a gun.
A stray bullet found its mark deep up the thick rear of the towns prized twerk champion, Dr. Mann.
She turned around."That'll be 25 $elfies." but no one was there; Now, feeling as though he had been abandoned. She began to sing:
♪PIZZA HUT!! I LIKE IT IN THE BUT!! I WORK AT TARGET! ♪ then she threw up.
Such mundane lyrics, but her voice transformed it into a gem. On overhearing her singing in the kitchen, more than a few merchants and travelers staying the night at the brothel had declared her the next Beyonce, maybe even Taylor Swift. She could be a first-rate singer; and, setting a bag of coins on the table, they asked to be allowed to manage her. Her singing was that good.
Hannah clapped." That's so nice!"
"People, they live in the forest," he said just as the old crone tossed her soaking patchwork robes into his face. There were now exposed dehydrated eggplants swinging straight for the real estate agents family jewels.
Hannah screamed and ran into the forest. Several acres in, she tripped on something, falling down, the bone contorted out of her knee. Her arm broke it's self and her neck snapped against a rock, her heart exploded, and Hannahs guts spilled out like spaghetti noodles.
She laid on what she discovered to be railroad tracks,"Shit! Shit!" she cried out of breath, unable to drag herself out she felt the rail's suddenly vibrate.
She screamed. She was run over by The Polar Express.
Now we come to Tom Hanks. He was supposed to be the hero of his own story.
It was 1974 a strange light had filled his room. His bedpost shaking. And his parents weren't even on it.
Somehow, it didn't wake up his sister, making him wonder why him? Was he… The chosen one?
Exiting his home, he was met with the ticket taker, that was the first time he had seen the polar express, and the conductor.
With the promise of seeing Santa, he went along with it, met many new friends. There was deception, however.
They said: never ever let it cool, but they never asked why. It wasn't until Eddie did an analysis with a super grade A computer, that the truth came out.
The Hot Chocolate was laced with Elf syrup. One of the strongest stimulants on both poles. Elves use it just to sustain another day working for that fat piece of shit. To Santa, it was harmless, some even say… It was made from his blood. In humans, it was a mind control agent. He had snapped out of it, he did for others What he did for himself.
Now, knowing the only way was to blaspheme his name.
"Fuck you! Fuck you! Fuck you! You don't exist!"
Denouncing Santa was the only way. Eventually, once the effect came off, no one questioned it. He got the whole cart to say it; some even screamed it at the top of their lungs, even the Christians.
Next, they interrogated the obviously stoned and challenged conductors. We questioned them as it was apparent that this train was not being conducted by two unprofessional dim wits. Turns out this train was many on a circuit to deliver fresh children to the north pole.
It was then he met his mentor, as a herd of caribou flooded the tracks, One came up to him and spoke,
"Tom…"
"Fa-father!?''
"Yes. It is me my son."
"No!"
"It was too late for me, but for you, as your father it is my job to give you a, very, very thorough lesson," The caribou got out a riding crop, and snapped it against the air.
"Yes!" Tom screamed,"Yes!! Daddy, please!!"
After his training, he learned that Santa apparently has a high washout rate when it comes to elves. Discarding and even running through the supply in a single day. They needed replacements. They needed kids.
One outcome of the operation would genetically change them. Transform them into adherent abiders of Christmas cheer.
That wasn't going to happen. With his friends, and (MCR), they staged an uprising getting rid of the ticket taker. They would use their newfound authority to stop other polar expresses, but their opponent was a force insurmountable, they had to retreat.
In their endeavor, they found out the name of their final and jovial adversary: Baileys Santa.
That leads them to today. Now they roam the tracks taking out the operation,
One ticket at a time.
