All da grots down in Grot-ville liked Christmas a lot. But da Boss who lived just north of Grot-ville did not. Da boss HATED Christmas, da whole Christmas season, please don’t ask why, noone quite knows da reason. It could be his Flash wasn’t screwed on just right. It could be, perhaps, dat his bootz was too tight. But I t’ink dat da most likely reason of all, may have been dat his heart was two sizes too small.
But, whatever da reason, his heart or his bootz, he stood ‘dere on Christmas Eve, hatin’ dem foolz. Staring down from his Ork Hold wit’ a sour Orky frown, at dem warmly lit torches below in ‘deir town. For he knew every Grot down in Grot-ville beneath, was busy now, hanging a red-painted wreath.
“And ‘deir hangin’ dem stockingz!” He snarled through his tusks, “Tomorrow is Christmas! It’s makin’ me fuss!” Den he growled, with his Ork fingers nervously drummin’, “I MUST find some way to stop Christmas from comin’!”
For tomorrow, he knew, all da Grot gitz n’ boyz, would wake bright n’ early. They’d rush for dem toyz! And ‘DEN! Oh, da noize! Oh, da noize! Noize! Noize! Noize! Dat’s da ONE thing he hated! Da NOIZE! NOIZE! NOIZE! NOIZE!
Den da Grotz, young n old, would sit down to a feast. And dey’d feast! And dey’d feast! And dey’d FEAST! FEAST! FEAST! FEAST!
Dey would feast on Grot-puddin’, and rare Grot-roast beast! Which was somethin’ dat Boss couldn’t stand in da least!
And DEN dey’d do somethin’ he liked least of all! Every Grot down in Grot-ville, da tall n da small, would stand close togedder, wit’ Christmas bells ringin’. Dey’d stand hand in hand, and dem Grotz would start singing!
Dey’d sing! And dey’d sing! And dey’d SING! SING! SING! SING! And da more da Boss thought of dis Grot-Christmas-sing, da more da Boss thought, “I must stop dis whole thing!”
“Why, for fifty-three yearz, I put up with it now!”
“I MUST stop dis Christmas from comin’!”
“But HOW?”
Den he got an idea! An awful idea! DA BOSS GOT A WONDERFUL, AWFUL IDEA!
“I know just what ta do!” Da Boss laughed in his throat. And he made a quick Santy Claus hat ‘n a coat. And he chuckled, and clucked, “What a great Orky trick!”
“With dis coat ‘n dis hat, I lookz just like Saint Nick!”
“All I need iz a reindeer…” Da Boss looked around. But, since reindeer are scarce, ‘dere was none to be found. Did that stop da Big Boss? No! Da Boss simply said,
“If I can’t FIND a reindeer, I’ll MAKE one instead!” So he called his Squig, Max. Den he took some red thread, and he tied a big horn on da top of his head.
DEN, he loaded some bags, and some old empty sacks, on a ramshackle sleigh, and he hitched up old Max.
Den da Boss said “Giddap!” And da sleigh started down, toward da homes where da Grotz lay a-snooze in ‘deir town.
All da windows were dark. Quiet snow filled da air. All da Grotz were all dreamin’ sweet dreams without care. When he came to da first little house on da square. “Dis is stop numba one,” the old Orky Claus hissed, and he climbed to da roof, empty bags in his fist.
Den he jumped down da chimney. A rather short toss. But if Santa could do it, ‘den so could da Boss! He got stuck only once, for a moment or two. Den he stuck his head out of the fireplace flue, where da little Grot stockingz was hung in a row. “Dese stockin’s,” He grinned, “are da FIRST things ta go!”
Den he slithered and slunk, with a smile most unpleasant, and da whole room, and he took every present! Bolt gunz! Jet bikez! Meltaz! And kraks! Flamerz! Bioniks! Transplantz! ‘N Mekz!
And he stuffed ‘dem in bagz. Den da Boss, very nimbly, stuffed all da bags, one by one, up da chimbley!
Den he slunk to da icebox. He took da Grot’s feast! He took da Grot-Puddin’! he took da roast beast! He cleaned out dat icebox as quick as a flash! Why dat Ork even took ‘deir last can of Grot-hash!
Den he stuffed all da food up da chimney wit’ glee. “And NOW!” grinned da Boss, “I will stuff up da tree!”
And da Boss grabbed da tree, and he started to squat, when he heard a small sound, like da voice of a Grot.
He turned around fast, and he saw of small Grot! Little Cindy-Lou Grot, who was only a tot.
Da Boss had been caught, by dis tiny Grot daughter, who’d got out of bed for a cup of cold water. She stared at da Boss and said “Santy Claus, why, why are ya takin’ our Christmas tree? WHY?”
But, ya know, dat ol’ Boss was so smart ‘n quick. He thought up a lie, ‘n he thought it up quick! “Why, my sweet little tot,” the fake Santy Claus lied, “‘Dere’s a light on dis tree dat won’t light on one side! So I’m taking it home to me workshop, my dear.” “I’ll fix it up ‘dere. DEN I’ll bring it back HERE!”
‘N his fib fooled da child. Den he patter ‘er ‘ead, and he got ‘er a drink n he sent ‘er ta bed. ‘N when Cindy-Lou Grot went to bed wit’ ‘er cup, HE went to da chimney ‘n stuffed da tree up!
‘Den da LAST thing he took, was da log for deir fire! Den he went up da chimney himself, da ol’ liar. On deir wallz he left nuffin’ but hooks and some wire.
‘N da one speck o’ food dat was left in da house, was a crumb dat was even too small for a mouse.
Den he did da same thing to da other Grotz’ houses,
Leavin’ crumbs much too small for da other Grot’z mouses.
It was quarter past dawn… all da Grotz still-a-bed, all da Grotz, still-a-snooze when he packed up his sled, packed up wit’ dem presents! Dem ribbonz! Dem wrappin’s! Da tagz! ‘N da tinsel! Da trimmin’s! Da Trappins!
Three thousand feet up! Up da side of Mount Kill Pit, he rode with his load to da tiptop ta dum it! “Sod off to dem grotz!” he was Orkishly hummin’. “Dey’s findin’ out now dat no Christmas is comin’!”
“Dey’s just wakin’ up! I know JUST what dey’ll do!”
“Deir moufs will hang open a minute or two, den da Grotz down in Grotville, will all cry boo-hoo!”
“That’s a noize,” grinned da Big Boss, “Dat I simply MUST hear!” So he paused. And da Boss put his hand to his ear. And he DID hear a sound risin’ over da snow. It started in low, den it started ta grow…
But da sound wasn’t sad, why dis sound sounded merry! It COULDN’T be so! But it WAS merry! Very!
He stared down at Grotville! Da Boss popped ‘is flash. Den he shook! What he saw was a shockin’ surprise!
Every Grot down in Grotville, da tall n da small, was SINGIN’! Without any presents at all!
He HADN’T stopped Christmas from comin’! IT CAME! Somehow or odder, it came just da same!
And da Boss, wit his Ork feet ice-cold in da snow, stood thinkin’ ‘n thinkin’, “How COULD it be so? It came wiffout shootaz, it came wiffout rigz! it came wiffout big mekz, tank bustaz, or squigz!” And he puzzled three hours till ‘is big brain was sore, DEN da Boss thought of somethin’ he hadn’t before! “Maybe Christmas,” He thought, “DOESN’T come from a WAAAGH!!! … Maybe Christmas… perhaps… means a little bit more!”
‘N what happened DEN? Well… in Grotville dey say, dat da Boss’ small heart grew three sizes dat day! ‘N da minute his heart didn’t feel quite so tight, he came down wit ‘is load through da bright mornin’ light, ‘n brought back da giftz! ‘N da food fer da feast! ‘N he…
He HIMSELF! Da Big Boss carved da roast beast!
Not too long ago I mentioned a new iPhone and iTouch application for math hammering your way through a game of Warhammer 40k called 
Those thugs, the Orks, know Christmas. They’re green after all, and like to paint red all over their vehicles. Go Faster Red, green Orks, all by the light of shoota fire. 
