Tag Archives: Advent

Advent Calendar 2014 — December 15

This isn’t a real calendar, it’s an Advent calendar-inspired action adventure where YOU’RE the hero. I know, I know, sounds similar to the last Indiana Jones, but trust me, it’s much different. Get caught up!

December 1               December 9
December 2              December 10
December 3              December 11
December 4              December 12
December 5              December 13
December 6              December 14
December 7
December 8

After your little trick at the magic show, you’re transported to… another goddamn office? This adventure is getting boring. Too bad this isn’t a video game instead, eh? Is print dead? That’s more of a post-Christmas debate, let’s get back to it.

At least this time you’re behind the desk and not… in front of the desk? And this office looks pretty swank. You’ve never been interested in interior design before but this space is inspiring some creative thoughts about sofas and shelves. An idea for computer monitor sunglasses strikes like lightning in your brain before you’re interrupted by the person sitting opposite you.


The desk

It’s a woman in tears. Not knowing what to do because you have no idea where you are, you say what your mom would always say when you’d tell her about that recurring dream where you’re a reverse firefighter (extinguishing oceans with fire) stationed in beautiful San Francisco, California.

“Go on.”

The lady looks up. Her makeup is running down her face making her look like Alice Cooper after he found out there aren’t any Hardee’s restaurants in Canada during the Northern Nitwit Tour, ’88.

“I asked him again, ‘are you sure I have to do this?’ and he told me, straight-faced, ‘you do want to be one of J.D. Powers’ Associates, don’t you?’. So I did it because who doesn’t want to be one of the Associates? I rolled up my sleeves, stuck my head into the toilet and tried to find the bone. That was only the first task.”

She’s clearly embarrassed about what she just admitted to you. You’d always heard weird things about J.D. Power and Associates but never anything firsthand. Sounds like she’s got some pretty juicy info and it’s been awhile since you’ve heard some good gossip. You still don’t know what the fuck is going but before getting her to elaborate, she continues, “So I still work there but I think I need something to get my through the tough days. Like next Monday, J.D. wants us all to bring in a childhood memento for him to destroy. Can you prescribe me something so that I don’t totally lose my mind?”

Based on this modern office and the woman’s out-pour of emotions, you think you’re a therapist of some sort. You’re pretty interested in more J.D. Power stories so you quickly root through a desk drawer to find something to give her so she’ll spill more beans. You find this:


Before winging the pill bottle over to the lady, you take a peak to make sure you’re not giving her something serious like eye melters, and notice that the expiry day on the bottle is December 15. The date gate already?

“FUCK,” you say out loud.

“I’m sorry?” responds the lady with a look of genuine fear in her eyes.

“Sorry, I’d love to hear more about J.D. Power, I truly would. But it looks like this shrink has gotta grow.”

You’re surprised at how good that last line was and pop one of the Aderalls, making you disappear and sending you to some other fuckin’ place. This was a short phase but I think we all needed it because that magician thing was kinda long. See you tomorrow!

Advent Calendar 2014 — December 14

Put down that soldering iron, you don’t need a time machine to get caught up on what’s going on. Here they are, draped in a beautiful shade of “link blue”:

December 1               December 9
December 2              December 10
December 3              December 11
December 4              December 12
December 5              December 13
December 6
December 7
December 8

There’s a very bright light shining into your face so it’s tough to tell where you are but it smells like cigars covered in cheese and sounds like a group of people having a high five party. Once your eyes start to adjust you figure you’re on some sort of stage in front of a clapping live audience somewhere in… Turkey? You quickly dismiss that possibility because you’ve never been to Turkey and can’t confirm that it smells like cigars and cheese, and because every place you’ve visited on this journey has had a unique odour so this is nothing new. A voice booms over the loudspeakers, startling you.

“Give it up for our volunteer!”

The crowd goes nuts and you turn around and see a man in a tuxedo and large top hat, brandishing a wireless mic.


The Amazing Scott Incredible

Next to him is a small table with three replicas of the top hat he’s wearing. Okay, you get it — the three rabbits you found after scratching the Leafs ticket has brought you to a magic show. Either that or you’ve finally made it to that famous haberdashery your youth basketball coach told you about where it’s as much about the experience as it is the hats.

As you stand all dopey-eyed, taking all this in, the magician grabs your arm more forcefully than you think necessary and leads you to the table with the hats.

“Our volunteer’s job is simple,” the magician begins as his assistant (a man who looks exactly the same as the magician except for his coveralls) passes him a pretty ugly white rabbit that you will later name “Jordy”. He turns toward you and continues, “all you must do is select the hat that the rabbit is under. If you are correct I will personally give you my entire fortune plus the secrets of the universe including one about how fire can be used to clean the tub. Of course, no one has ever been correct!”

Jordy in 2011

Jordy in 2011

The crowd goes nuts and you’re already bored of this. You’re pretty sure you saw your uncle perform this trick at his birthday party, only he used little goats.

The magician places the rabbit under the middle hat then begins shuffling the them like in three-card monte. Rather than humour the guy and pay close attention to his shuffling, you turn your back to the table and sit down on the stage.

“Looks like our volunteer is more confident than that outfit would have us believe!” jokes the magician.

You look down on your white cotton outfit and red canvas shoes and see that the once-pristine ensemble has attracted several strange stains and a few choice rips since this adventure started.

“Okay, time to choose. Which hat do you believe the rabbit is under?”

You stand up, grab the mic out of the magician’s hand and pretend to study each hat. You have some fun with the crowd and smell each one, which is tough because the stench of cheddar cigars is growing strong. You glance over to the magician and he looks pretty pissed.

“Well it’s definitely not this one,” you say as you remove the middle hat. Underneath is a basket of Christmas oranges. The magician snatches the mic back and gives a little twirl.

“You are correct! Feel free to take those home to your malnourished children,” responds the magician harshly. You don’t have kids but the crowd doesn’t know that. What the fuck? You decide to move things along.

“If it’s this one I’ll eat my own hair,” you point to the hat on the left and the crowd laughs uproariously. They’re back on your side. You choose the left hat and sure enough, a heap of Christmas holly lies underneath.

“Oh my, there’s only one left so it simply must be the rabbit. I might finally have to give away my vast fortune and wealth of secrets. I guess you won’t need to eat this holly for Christmas dinner as you’ll be able to afford a real bird for once!” the magician says with a flourish of his hands.

Rather than let this guy keep telling you what to do, you ignore his insult and lift the hat on the right before he can prompt you. Underneath is this old newspaper clipping:

December 14, 1978, Sumter Daily Item - AP, page 16-A, Layton Accused In Jonestown Shootings,

You grab the clipping and completely tune out everything else around you. You make out the words “idiot” dand “baby licker” from the magician but whatever, you think you’ve found a way out of here. The clipping’s date is December 14 so you’ll just have to find a way to activate it. You’re momentarily distracted by the crowd gasping. You look over to see the magician removing his own hat and just like your uncle taking off his pants to reveal a half-dead goat, the rabbit is underneath.

“Sorry, you lose, the rabbit was under this hat. Classic trick. Sorry, you do not get my fortune and you must now leave the show. Give it up for our volunteer!”

You try to put aside your embarrassment and get this date gate activated before the assistant comes to drag you off the stage. You try rubbing the clipping, kissing it, scratching it and still, nothing. The whole crowd is laughing at you. Then, you get an idea. You walk over to the magician and snatch the mic out of his hand.

“Here’s some real fuckin’ magic,” you say, holding up the newspaper clipping. You start rambling off as many magic words as you can think of. “Abra Cadabroo, mooby doo, screeny deem and wonder stew, magic words and boffy meer, get me the fuck out of here.”

The newspaper article vanishes in a poof of smoke and left in your hand is a shitty rolodex. Geez, some treat. Your disappointment quickly fades as you yourself fade from the stage and into the next world. Before you’re fully gone you see the magician barfing on the stage. Seems you spooked him. The next time you attend a magic show is many years in the future when magic is real and very scary.

Advent Calendar 2014 — December 13

There are 12 days of Advent adventure to enjoy before eye blasting this one. You gotta eat your lettuce before getting into the pickles, you know? 

December 1               December 9
December 2              December 10
December 3              December 11
December 4              December 12
December 5
December 6
December 7
December 8

You’re sitting across from a stern-looking man wearing a boring business suit. Good thing you just sucked on a breath mint because this looks, sounds and smells like a job interview!


Before you have a chance to ask him who the fuck he is, he says:

“Tell me about your employment history.”

This is quite the change of gear from your last experience where you were already employed as some sort of tech messiah. You decide against telling the guy about that embarrassing stint as a stamp-licker at a very low-rent retirement home and get into your most recent work.

“I worked for, uh, SMOOF, designing apps and shit,” you put your feet up on his desk, knocking over a custom stapler monogramed, ‘Z.I.P.’, “and you know, I’ve dabbled in a bit of this, a bit of that, few ups, few downs, a couple zig zags and one solid year spent hyping underground chewing contests.”

You’re lying about that last part but it’s not like you pulled it out of your ass. Your dad once tried to publish a series of novels on the subject but they never really caught on.

“Is there anything you made at SMOOF that I would know?” the boss asks excitedly, ignoring the stapler.

“Uhh, does BAARK exist… here?” you genuinely wonder, hoping that your scary dog app is reality in whatever reality it is that you’re in.

“Sure, it helped me avoid a feral dalmatian last weekend! If it weren’t for your app I would’ve been forced to drop my bag of spices and run through Old Man Lisa’s moss bog. I wasn’t wearing boots so it would’ve got messy. Or should I say ‘mossy’.”

You both share a hearty laugh that you cut short with the best fake sneeze you’ve ever delivered. You decide to cut to the chase.

“Am I hired, dude?”

“Sure sure, we could use someone like you around here. Snowmen don’t melt themselves as we say.”

You can’t imagine why a guy like this would be in the snowman demo biz but Kurt Rambis never looked like a basketball player and he ended up fine.


Kurt Rambis

The boss continues, “To show we’re serious, take these tickets to the Leafs game tonight. No monkey business though, you represent the company henceforth.”

He slides these babies across his desk:


The date gate! Time to get out of here. The only thing left to do is to activate it somehow.

“Don’t just stare, give them a rub,” the boss says playfully. You’re not sure whether he’s giving you a hint or if he’s simply a nut bag, but your tolerance for bullshit has gone up considerably since this adventure started so you give them a rub. Nothing really happens so you use your fingernail instead. Sure enough, the Leaf jersey starts to disappear like on a scratch card and underneath is this:


You look up at the boss and he’s smiling ear to ear.

“Three conies! Lucky duck.”

You’re kinda sick of this guy, which is totally fine because as soon as “duck” leaves his beak, your body disappears and you’re off to the next stop.

Advent Calendar 2014 — December 12

Deck the halls with previous chapters fa la la la la la la la LARM

December 1               December 9
December 2              December 10
December 3              December 11
December 4
December 5
December 6
December 7
December 8

After favouriting the space Tweet you’re transported into a modern office. There’s colourful furniture everywhere, one of those old Virtual Reality rigs, a vending machine stocked with rare snacks and flash drives, a trampoline, Gandalf’s horse cart, beanbag chairs on the ceiling, a living wall that’s growing ginseng, a bar that serves cereal and Magic cards, a life-sized Clue board, Anna Paquin’s Oscar, a wood-fired pizza oven, a car wash for hats and a small group of nerds huddled around a white board.

You listen to them brainstorming, throwing around words like “social currency”, “engagement” and “digital sphere”, and this combined with that Tweet you saw inside your own head convinces you they’re trying to invent a new social network.

You figure this is a good a time as any to pitch your own ideas that normally come to you while you’re waiting for your garbage to cool. It reminds to to stop throwing out soup so close to garbage day.

Anyway, you interupt one of the participants and pitch your ideas:

“A service called Moopsy ‘Do – Take a picture of your haircut and create your own unique profile pic. Start networking with other hair without anyone judging your face. Share info on gels, sprays, ‘poos, oils, combs, beads, mousse, clips, dyes, and bald.”

The leader of the brainstorm nods approvingly and scrawls “Moospy – big time integration, smart metrics!!!” on the board. You don’t know what that means but you keep going:

“ClamShare – An online directory and social networking site where users share credit card information and buy stuff on each other’s dime. Post a picture of your monthly statement, which when added to the site, becomes part of a Darth Vader mosaic.”


There’s an obvious buzz among the group. The head guy writes “ClamShare – cultural AND real world currency, avatar marketing interactions, too fast? beta could integrate multimedia streams >> revenue”.

HA! When you told you sister that idea she called you a “fucking stooge”. Okay, you’ve got one more:

“BAARK – a mobile app that pings the user any time it detects a scary dog. The app then offers escape routes and locations of public washrooms for hiding and butcher shops for diversions”.

Someone in the group says, “oh baby!” and the head guy writes “BAARK has bite – upside engagement opportunities, e-commerce components and @leverage collaboration with third party suppliers”.

The head guy caps his marker and pumps his fist awkwardly. The others in the group look back at you in awe and you roll your eyes at them as if to say, “I know, I know, I’m radical sometimes”. The Mark Zuckerberg guy at the front stares straight into your eyes and says:

“You all know my policy when a game changer comes along and changes the game AND the social web. Ideas are the new Automobiles and this employee just invented the power window. Along with an expensive new cat that will be delivered to your backyard on Tuesday, I also present you with this,” the head guy says, holding out his hand.

You make your way to the front of the room and the guy flips you this coin:

gv mary token reverse

“It is of course a token to commemorate the 1911 Imperial Durbar, celebrating the coronation of King George V and Queen Mary. That event is at the heart of everything we do here at SMOOF.”

You feel like you should make a speech but these dweebs are cramping your style and you kind of want to get out of here. You’re not sure how to activiate this gate date so you try kissing it, which receives another round of applause from the audience, then try flipping it like a quarter, driving the crowd nuts. What’s with these people?

Then you figure it out. You start to peel away the silver and underneath the coin seems to be made of breathmint. You could’ve used some chocolate, but whatever. Before you pop the mint in your mouth you bow majestically and pull down your pants. It’s about time you had a little fun. The mint is then in your mouth and you’re out of there. Where to next?

Advent Calendar 2014 — December 11

Don’t quit your day job unless you need to get caught on up this year’s Advent calendar adventure.  

December 1               December 9
December 2              December 10
December 3
December 4
December 5
December 6
December 7
December 8

So far, each date gate has revealed an Advent “treat” within that transports you to your next destination and offers some hint as to where you’re going to go next, but after pulling the jersey (date gate #10) over your head you disappeared, so was your own head the treat?

It must have been because you materialize into infinite space with fragments of you suspended all over the place.

money mania

It’s like one of these money machines but infinite and full of your memories, personal artifacts, parts of your soul. and old receipts.

Because you’re suspended in infinite space, you take the opportunity to execute some flips you’ve always wanted to try but quickly get nauseous. You try to suppress it but stop when you begin to wonder what might happen if you were to barf in this strange space. Then, a picture floats by of you on Christmas Eve ’89 where you had a nasty stomach bug and couldn’t throw up because you were never really able to unless you were asleep.



You float around some more, checking out the first time you kissed a bottle of root beer, the time a duck took your keys and a neat little screen showing every time you’ve ever chewed gum.

Next to a replica of the cigar your grandfather gave you on his deathbed with the instructions, “use the DNA on this cigar to clone me if they ever invent robots that will do anything you want”, you see this:

A Tweet of yours from December 11! I used a tweet of mine in this example, so all you have to do to make this story more real is go find one of yours. If you don’t have Twitter, pretend it’s an old newspaper or some shit.

You giggle/nod approvingly (depending on the nature of your Tweet) and get the feeling that you were funnier two years ago but try to use it as inspiration to be funnier TODAY. You decide to skirt the rules by favouriting a Tweet of your own by reaching out into the nothingness to touch the favourite star button. In an instant you’re transported out of your own head in into… who knows? I don’t even know really.

Advent Calendar 2014 — December 10

There’s a party in my house, and you aren’t invited! So you have plenty of time to get caught up on this Advent calendar story.

December 1               December 9
December 2
December 3
December 4
December 5
December 6
December 7
December 8

A split second ago you were filling the gas tank of a motorcycle that used to be a reindeer and now you’re filling a toilet with a bit of the old “undrinkable” if you know what I mean. You quietly thank the cosmic entity behind this Advent portal adventure for finally allowing you some relief then take a look around. You’re in the toilet zone of some sort of shack, the sun shining through the boards that make up the walls, highlighting a dusty, humid haze all around you.

Once you’re all pissed-out, you exit the bathroom into a larger room. Clothes and sports equipment are strewn about and bunk beds line the walls. You’re at a summer camp! You never went to an overnight camp as a kid because you hated structure and swimming on command but you’ve seen enough camp movies to fully dominate this phase of the adventure.

Right as you’re preparing to exit the cabin you hear whimpering from somewhere in the room and due to several years of babysitting experience plus a stint as sound effects coordinator on season 2 of Nash Bridges, you recognize it as the sound of a child in distress.

You quickly locate the source, a child-sized lump on the bottom bunk of the bed in the far corner. You approach the bed, almost tripping over an old shoebox filled with jacks, rubber bands and nudey cards, and peel the blanket off the lump. Underneath is a small child, aged 3-12, crying her little eyes out.

“What’s the matter? Did you see a snake?” asking the first question your parents would always pose to you when you’d come home from school.

“No, I… I… I… can’t…,” the kid whimpers, unable to get the rest of the words out. You see she’s wearing a t-shirt that says “Camp Cudd”*.

* I made up ‘Camp Cudd’ then Internet searched for it hoping to find a picture of a t-shirt but I found this video instead. The fact that there’s a real Camp Cudd makes me believe that my own personal journey of writing this Advent thing every day is on the right track. Thanks mysterious force!

You know kids can be stupid when it comes to admitting things, so you recall the three problems that dominated your childhood and calmly ask, “You can’t what, honey? Can’t scream? Can’t barf? Can’t dance?”

Your question garners a giggle from the kid and you resist the urge to spit on her like you spit on your free-puking tormentors back in grade three. But before you’re able to do so, the child’s giggle disappears and she looks up at you with teary eyes.

“Bully St. Patch  told me that if I play in the Foof Ball game today she’ll run my Internet search history up the flag pole,” admits the kid.

“Who’s that? What’s her real name?” you wonder.

“That is her real name,” she snaps back, unimpressed that a supposed camp counselor wouldn’t know about the region’s most notorious shit bag.

“I guess it’s not that strange. I once knew a dweeb named ‘Loser’,” you stand up and get lost in the memory. “His parents thought it was a slick variant of ‘Louis’. They were poets, so you’d think they’d know MORE than the average person about the meaning of words, but they’d also put salad dressing on their cereal so what do I know?”

The kid stares at you blankly. You snap out of it and sit back down on the edge of the bed.

“What can I do to help?” you ask, expecting her to say something like “call my parents and get me out of here before I fucking go insane”.

“Pretend to be me in the game and in the during the eighth flight, fake a slam then take her out,” she explains nonchalantly as if this was the only answer.

You don’t know what “foof ball” is and you’re at least two feet taller than the kid but if this strange journey has taught you anything it’s that nothing makes sense and if you say “yes” to everything it seems to work out.

“Uhh, okay, sure.”

Her eyes light up and she hops out of bed to the trunk at the edge of the bunk. After rooting around for a bit, tossing aside a Slinky, a slingshot and a large length of chain, she produces this:


“Put this on!” she screams way loud as if to subtlety remind you that unlike your childhood self, she can scream.

You take hold of the jersey and are impressed with the stitching on the numbers and nameplate. You pull it over your head and everything goes dark. Then you pull it fully over your head and it’s light again for like, a second, then it goes dark again because the portal has swallowed you again. Party on? Or party off? Tune in tomorrow to find out!

Advent Calendar 2014 — December 9

It’s Kirk Douglas’ birthday today! Celebrate 98 years of Hollywood mastery by eating Kirk’s favourite, roasted stones, or by getting caught up on the Advent adventure with these previous posts:

December 1
December 2
December 3
December 4
December 5
December 6
December 7
December 8

In the blink of a guy with a winky blinky eye you find yourself riding a motorcycle with reindeer antler handlebars, cruising down a lonely, sunny, desert highway. There isn’t any music playing but if you really think it’ll complete the scene, let’s pretend you’re listening to this:

You’re happy that you’re finally out of the North Pole but kind of disappointed that you only got to hang with Blitzen for a couple of minutes. He’s been the loosest dude you’ve met on this journey and you could totally imagine sharing a kebab with him.

Then, as if the universe senses your feelings, your motorcycle’s horn honks twice by itself and you smile to yourself knowing that you’re probably still riding atop your new pal, his blood now gas, his hooves rubber tires and his exhaust pipe-sharped penis now an exhaust pipe.


This is sort of what you’re riding on

You hope that this leg of the journey will last longer than the others because the vibration of the motorcycle is giving your privates a much-needed wake up call but your hopes are dashed when you spot this gas station up ahead:


Part of you wants to drive the into the side of the building just to see what happens but if the movie Groundhog Day has taught you anything it’s that when you’re part of an unexplained event that bends space and time, forget about suicide, you’d best find Andie MacDowell and seduce the fuck out of her. If the soundtrack to the movie Groundhog Day has taught you anything it’s that when you’re having a party and you forget to program a playlist, do not hastily throw one together and lead it off with the Groundhog Day soundtrack.

Anyway, since meeting Gary Oldman was the closest you came to finding Andie MacDowell you try to rid your mind of all things Groundhog Day and decide to play it safe and pull into the station where your next portal awaits.

Stopped at the pump you check your gas level and see that it reads “E”, making you to remember how your dad once tricked you into believing that it stands for “EAT” and that gasoline was originally called “lunch juice”. You grab the nozzle and begin filling the tank, bracing yourself for another cosmic transportation. And what do you know? It worked. You disappear. You’re done with this part. Onto the next. The adventure continues tomorrow. Where will you read it? What is your name? Just kidding, I don’t care. See you!

Advent Calendar 2014 — December 8

This story already doesn’t make much sense, so don’t make it any harder on yourself by starting in the middle.

December 1
December 2
December 3
December 4
December 5
December 6
December 7

You magically appear in a dark stable in a pile of dark hay. Okay, maybe the hay is regular hay or maybe it’s all just dried out black licorice your call!

After that whole Santa ordeal you’re beginning to think that maybe you’ve been whisked away to the Manger where Jesus was plopped out and that you’re now going to have to wrestle Joseph or some shit. You look out a small window cut into the wooden boards that make up the stable’s wall and instead of seeing Three Wise Men pissing equations into the snow, you see this:

web site north pole

Either you’re back at that pervy barber shop or still in the clutches of the North Pole. You let out a frustated, “Errrrrrrrrrrrrrfffff” sound then exit the pen that you materialized into and go looking around the stable.

In the darkness you can make out some large creatures in the stalls opposite yours and unless you’re being fucked with, they most be Santa’s famous reindeer. The bad news is you’re still on Santa’s turf, but the good news is that Phandor must have meant reindeer when he mentioned “ice rats”.

You immediately feel the urge to choke each ice rat to death as revenge for all the crap Santa and Phandor have put you through and without realizing it you’re already in a pen marked “Blitzen”, ready to squeeze the magic (and life) right out of him.

You stop in your tracks when you notice a brand in Blitzen’s humongous hind quarters:

Caribou1_full copy

Sorry, it’s hard to find a large scale pic of a reindeer’s ass

Your way out of this stable is somewhere behind that brand and since you’ve been mentally preparing yourself to stick your arm up something’s butt at some point during this adventure, you don’t hesitate.

At the point of entry, the reindeer makes a sound EXACTLY like this:

“What the dizz, mate?” comes a voice that sounds like Mel Gibson, pre-American accent.

“Sorry, I figured the portal was in your ass,” you respond, hoping that you’re correct in assuming the voice came from the reindeer and not some guy standing behind you who will make fun of you for thinking a reindeer was talking to you.

“No mate, that’s loony. You won’t have to reach into anything’s bum, trust me. Now get on my back and we’ll get this over with,” Blitzen explains calmly.

“So embarassed,” you mutter as you lumber onto the big creature’s back.

“I’d prefer if you didn’t hold on tight because I’ve got sensitive antlers but it’s something I have to say for legal reasons,” says Blitzen as he trots out of the stable and into the night.

“What legal reasons? What the fuck is this? You’re a reindeer and I’m in some living Advent calendar!” The frustration is evident in your tone but Blitzen ignores you and begins to fly into the night. You only get to enjoy it for a few seconds before you disappear.

Advent Calendar 2014 — December 7

Stumble onto this post after googling “free online Advent calendar” because you feel physical Advent calendars aren’t fair to people like you who are scared of chocolate? Get caught up!

December 1
December 2
December 3
December 4
December 5
December 6

Though it has occurred to you that it all might be a dream, you’ve never truly considered this adventure to be anything but real. Has it completely defied all logic and science? Yes. Has it smelled really weird? Yes. Are you crazy? Depends on who YOU are, but for the purposes of this story let’s just assume that all of you readers are sane, beautiful, and appreciative of the effort I’ve put into keeping you, the hero, gender neutral so that anyone can come along for the ride.

No matter what’s actually been happening to you, you’re positive you’re dreaming now because you see yourself back in your elementary school’s hallway wearing nothing but a t-shirt while the other kids are fully clothed. You look around in horror as you realize that no pants day is actually tomorrow and that all day kids are going to be looking at your half naked, underdeveloped body thinking “that idiot thought today is no pants day”. It’s a dream you’ve had hundreds of times before and the familiarity of it makes you hope that you’re going to wake up at home on your pile of towels.

When a bully walks by your locker and says, “check the calendar, piss mud!” you’re snapped out of the dream and open your eyes only to find darkness. You give a quick wiggle and the bed you’re lying in feels more like a real bed than the towels so no matter where you are right now, you’re definitely not home. You wonder why it’s so dark then feel that you’re wearing a sleep mask. As your eyes start to adjust you notice there’s something written on the inside of the mask or else you were crying and your tears look like letters. You make a mental note to try that next time you get dumped and want to write your ex a letter with impact, then utter a quick prayer, something like “hey boss, please don’t let this next part be weird”. You slowly peel the sleep mask from your face so you can see what’s printed on it and though you’re pretty sure what’s it going to say, you still hope it’ll be something cute like “Goodnight sleepy head!”. But no, your suspicious are confirmed:

blue2 copy

You’re sort of relieved that whoever or whatever is fucking with you on this adventure at least allowed you got a snooze in before moving onto whatever bullshit is coming up next. The relief is short-lived though, because when you lower the mask from your view, the lights in the small, simple room you’re in suddenly illuminate to reveal Phandor standing at the foot of your bed.

Elf with a Gun 2
“Nighty night, don’t let the ice rats bite,” Phandor says before pulling the trigger of the revolver he’s carrying.

You see the flash of the gun then you’re once again flushed down the toilet of time and space, onto the next stop of this CrAzY trip.

Advent Calendar 2014 — December 6

You wouldn’t start a book halfway through unless a rich guy payed you to, so before reading this ensure you’re caught up unless a rich guy is paying you to read this one in particular. 

December 1
December 2
December 3
December 4
December 5

You’re working the line in a bustling toy factory surrounded by typical Christmas elves. You glimpse up from the conveyor belt and who should be standing in front you but Santa, that motherfucker from yesterday who wouldn’t tell you shit about what’s been going on.

“You’ve been naughty and you’ve been nice but you haven’t worked hard,” Santa muses with a scowl.

You reflect on the past year and realize that yes, you haven’t worked very hard, but working hard also requires rest and since you haven’t got around to replacing the pile of towels with an actual bed in your apartment, hard work simply wasn’t practical this year.

“You can’t force me to work here, can you?” you ask, genuinely interested in what the answer might be.

“I cannot force anyone to do anything, but Phandor can,” says Santa, punctuated with a childish laugh that doesn’t sound anything like the deep grumbles of every other Santa you’ve ever met.

You suddenly feel a sharp poke on your back and naturally turn to find out where it came from. Standing before you is a mean looking little son of a bitch carrying a comically large thumbtack. In the future, when you sell your fantastical tale to the folks at Dark Horse Comics for a cool 1.2 million, you assist an artist in drawing him like so:


“Do your work you fuckin’ jerk,” squeaks the elf man.

“I take it you’re Phandor?” you ask, dwelling on the last syllable while straining to think of something that rhymes with Phandor to show him you’re willing to “play the game”.

“Little boys who don’t make toys will feel the pain when Phandor puts leeches in their brains,” warns Phandor, while licking his lips and making eyes toward his thumbtack.

“I’ve taken dumps bigger than you, speaking of which, where can I poo?” you sing sweetly, hoping Phandor will appreciate the rhyme AND direct you to the washroom.

“If your mind is filled with doubt, look to your left for an easy way out,”   Phandor divulges, followed by a maniacal laugh. He then holds the thumbtack over his head, utters some nonsense under his breath and disappears.

Not knowing what to do next, you look back to the production line and amongst the cat toys on the conveyor belt moving toward you is a button that looks like this:


Finally, a way out of here. You’re unsure about the connection between the North Pole and a positive stance on women’s issues, but you’re totally fine to move this adventure along so you shrug it off and examine the button closely. You start to peel back the button’s facade and underneath is another image that looks like this:


Phandor you little fucker! You give the new button the finger and once again, you’re whisked away, hopefully as far away from Santa’s shitty fuckin… slave hive or whatever as possible.