It was the night after Christmas, when all through Sandyís house, not a creature was stirring, not even a rabid mouse. The torture instruments hung by the
chimney with care in hopes that St. Grinch soon would be there. The house staff was gone, off to their homes, while lustful visions of whips and hot irons
danced in Sandyís head. Soon the Grinch would come, and Sandy in her revealing negligee and he in his black leather hood would settle in for a long
winterís night of ominously brutal torture.
Sandy knows that itís all about the screams until someone dies...