I seemed to be looking down from an immense height upon a twilit grotto, knee-deep with filth, where a white-bearded daemon swineherd drove about with his staff a flock of fungous, flabby beasts whose appearance filled me with unutterable loathing. Then, as the swineherd paused and nodded over his task, a mighty swarm of rats rained down on the stinking abyss and fell to devouring beasts and man alike.
--From H.P. Lovecraft's The Rats In The Walls
In his nightmare lives an unorthodox, hellish vision of Santa and his reindeer (without being named as such). A warning: don't leave cookies and milk out for this bunch.