Back then, I was known as Swagmaster Santa. I grew up from the hood, and all the thugs made sure to steet clear of me, with the exeption of Frosty dat pimped out snowman. We were best buds; raiding the Pizza Parlor, mugging old ladies, all dat good stuff.
Frosty, a real jokester, was all like, "Yo Santa, you should rob dat igloo!" Being the humble man I am, I was all like, "YOLO!" So, I climbed atop the roof, slip my booty down dat chimney, and a tradition was born. I laid a rifle under their tree, jacked the cookies 'n milk, and ran. I turned the doorknob, but...
"Stay where you are," said a voice from behind, "I'm the cheif of the Club Penguin Police Department, and you are currently charged with armed robbery. Don'move, or I shoot!" "Dude, you be tallin' wack now. I didn't mean to jack yo iggy! My gangsta pal said dat he'd gimme twenty Benjamin Franklin's if I broke in."
I slowly turned around, and faced dat officer. He got dat mustache and dem fancy pimped out swagalishious badge pinned to his chest. "I won't ban you," said dat officer, "if I can join you. We can be gangsta buddies!" I looked at him like he was full of wack, which he was. Howeva', my gang was gettin' smalla, and we could use a new member. I said, thinking I'd regret dis later, "Fine. We're homies."
Howeva, I was full of rage when dat Frosty kid betrayed me like dat. I was goin' to get my venges dawg. I would burn his iggy to da ground if I must. No one, not even my homies, almost gets me in troubs' like dat. I muttered, "Frosty, yo goin' down."
