You can’t believe that it’s December 5th already, mainly because you were in a coma for most of November. With shaky hands and clouded vision (holdover from the coma), you take an pocket knife to the leather window on your Advent calendar to reveal:
You very own tortoise slave! A big one too. You won’t get to give it a name until you train it to bathe you, but you’re thinking something along the lines of ‘King Plomp’ after a character in the epic dream you had while comatose.
Only 20 days left until talking to anyone but your family is considered terribly rude.
GLENN W. MACAULAY 