The stockings are hung, possibly with care. That’s not really my concern. They don’t even have to be hung, as not everyone has a chimney. The important thing is that they’re available, rhyme scheme notwithstanding, in hopes that I’ll soon be there.
That’s right, I have a secret to admit. I’m actually Kurt Russell and I’m closing in on the busiest night of the year, at least for me. The whole world is depending on me and I have to deliver, both literally and figuratively. If I fail, then the alien lifeform will escape and wreak havoc upon all of civilization.
It all started when the Norwegians tried to take out a rogue sled dog. Most think it was a reindeer, but that’s just poetic license. Anyway, they failed and the alien lifeform began trying to assimilate other members of the crew. This meant I had to take charge, mostly out of boredom because I got mad and smashed my chess computer. In any case, we all ended up freezing to death. Or did we?
Because while it seemed that way, somehow the story made it out of the artic, which means that one of us survived. Maybe it was an assimilated version, but that’s not important. What is important is that the Christmas season is a time for miracles and escapes from various geographic locations. Hans Gruber may have stayed away, but he isn’t the only one who can ruin Christmas. There’s also Wilford Brimley.
Brimley could smash radios and vehicles, but he couldn’t stop me from my mission. Whether in a frozen research station or after being thrown off a yacht or on a sleigh, I persisted. But unlike senators, I actually accomplished things. Because unlike senators, I had real resolve, and a flamethrower.
The committee members saunter in. Most are early. It’s gonna be a bloodbath.
— Burning Mom (@MomOnFire) December 16, 2018
This sounds like a joke, but it is comforting when you’re facing the horrors of an alien menace unearthed by Norwegian researchers.
Spread comfort & joy this holiday season by tagging all conversations with “anyway, we delivered the bomb.”
— Al Dente (@six_2_and_even) November 30, 2017
One thing that’s often missing from frank discussions about what happened in that artic base is a the truth about Mrs. Claus-Russell.
Oh 1970s disaster film, how beige your heroine’s pant suit! how peachy her lip gloss!
— Annie Hatfield (@HatfieldAnne) May 11, 2016
And how she wanted to spend the holiday once the work was done.
Oh, hello. Care to join me on my patch of scorched earth?
— {rialise} (@_RiALiSE_) October 5, 2018
If more of you would’ve adopted this, it would have really made my life easier.
This year we’ve decided just to exchange glances.
— Philosopher king (iOS 4.6) (@signalborder) December 17, 2018
While this would suggest the naughty list, it didn’t, necessarily. Remember what the Norwegians unearthed.
Don’t let the "Live, Laugh, Love" wall stencil fool you, there are bodies in the crawlspace.
— Olive Gravy (@offbeatoliv) December 10, 2018
It’s Brimley, man. I should’ve treated him like I did my chess computer.
You do go on, don't you?
— Henry 3000 (@Henry_3000) December 9, 2018
Having him on the team could’ve been a game changer. Alas, it wasn’t to be.
David Lee Roth hunts vampires.
— Justin (@ThePocketJustin) December 18, 2018
She was on the team, but she chose not to be a game changer.
If you need anything, don't call because I can't help.
— foggy memory (@someonesmomma) December 19, 2018
Do you want the Norwegians to get you? Rub some dirt on it and get it together.
Maybe I’ll make the most of this day. Maybe I’ll get hit by a bus.
— heather lou* (@heatherlou_) December 19, 2018
It was the zombies, homie. They may or may not have been assimilated.
I think the mall made you sensitive.
— Crow Magnom (@distracted_monk) December 20, 2018
This one definitely invited the flamethrower.
Going to spend the long weekend catching up on my shows, sleeping, spinning a cocoon, shedding my carapace, emerging to terrorize the populace.
— Do They Know It's Bevmas 🎄 (@blade_funner) December 19, 2018
The former.
I just need a straightforward winter weather forecast. Should i dress for meeting an agent in an abandoned bunker in Siberia or for meeting a lover on a chalet deck apres ski?
— Pleather (@kitkova) December 15, 2018
‘Twas the season?
When you slam my Precious Moments Figurines, you're slamming me.
— Böb Jänke: the Ayatollah of Rock N Rolla (@Bob_Janke) December 11, 2018
Brimley wasn’t the only one who wasn’t playing nice.
*cattle prods a belligerent Kid Rock back into a live action nativity scene*
— Swim Jeans👖 (@ShortSleeveSuit) December 11, 2018
Not that the sled dog was much better. The Norwegians weren’t wrong.
Woke up underneath the ground, better to stay vicious darling.
— Roxy (@laboxalaroxa) December 4, 2018
It didn’t help that Captain Diabeetus cut the power.
It's cold inside too, baby.
— V (@Inferno_V) December 8, 2018
But he did offer more resistance to the flamethrower, which I guess was his superpower.
If I ever get cooked alive I hope I stay conscious long enough to watch all the fat melt off because I bet that's one of the funnest parts.
— Cat From Nowhe®e (@kv8) December 8, 2018
One thing that was lacking was gear designed for trekking about the artic trying to escape alien dogs and Norwegians.
If I designed women's clothes, they'd be ugly. No doubt. But damn it they'd have pockets.
— RunwayDan (@RunwayDan) December 5, 2018
Not that the rations were anything to write home about.
Canned food drives are a good time to discover you have a weird thing for water chestnuts and sliced beets
— OldCardigan (@MizzusT) December 4, 2018
He tried to steal my sled and my flamethrower. He’s all too real.
When the gypsy said “nothing is any more or less real than Bigfoot” I really felt that
— Buddawiggi (@MarkBuckawicki) December 5, 2018
This guy, well, he was part of the reason the Norwegians went on the rampage in the first place.
We can put a man on the moon, but we can't put a hippopotamus on an unidentified celestial demon rocket to the nether regions of Glaxparixica.
— Damon Hunzeker (@DamonHunzeker) October 12, 2018
A lesson we learned all too well, in the form of expressing disrespect with a device that shoots fire.
Disrespect is earned too.
— Tony™ 🐜🍯 (@tsm560) December 6, 2018
There was a soundtrack, if not wholly accurate. “Artic Queen” just doesn’t have the same ring.
Billy Ocean was my single greatest inspiration for smooth, lyrical vehicular abductions.
— Cabo 🇺🇸🍳 (@Shot_Of_Cabo) November 21, 2014
While Brimley was out of control, other members of the crew offered more salient observations.
Our days are all numbered. So are our teeth.
— LunaticRex (@BoonaticRex) December 6, 2018
And others recognized the enormity of the situation.
i’m not dwelling dammit i’m wallowing
— Jeff Newton (@yonewt) December 5, 2018
We also had to grapple with the possibility that everything that was occurring was in our heads. In any case, I still had presents to deliver.
we have an annual tradition in my village where, during the high holidays, everyone takes turns huffing from a can of gold spray paint that is mysteriously mailed to the mayor’s house by an unknown sender once a year
— Sunshine Jarboly (@SunshineJarboly) November 30, 2018
It sounded fun, but it also woke our chief inside-the-house antagonist.
I’m never bringing an air horn to a senior center again.
— Candy Cane Shank 🎄 (@sixfootcandy) November 27, 2018
So I prepared to take off in my sleigh, with the Norwegians hot on my heels and at least one reluctant sled dog. For him, fortunately, I had an answer.
barometric pressure isn't even a real thing. calm down
— fightgeek (@fightgeek) November 29, 2018
This guy went on the nice list, with gusto.
Turn on your device's location setting for a better drone strike experience
— DonQuickOats (@DonQuickoats) November 17, 2018
Yes, weird. (Summon the Vikings.)
Always strange when the wolves decide to raise you rather than to eat you.
— Wondering (@stillwondering1) November 21, 2018
Not that everyone got caught up in the craziness of the situation, even if Wilford did keep trying to feed her copious amounts of pecan pie.
it’s ok, I thrive in chaotic environments
— now what (@jaimiealley) November 22, 2018
They knew when the alien was the most vulnerable.
A whirling dervish, but it's a flock of birds swooping, scattering, circling, and scattering again.
— Mrs. Fitz (@PFitzpa) November 17, 2018
Not that there weren’t obstacles.
I inadvertently pissed off the craft community once. You don’t come back from that.
— Mary (@AnniemuMary) November 18, 2018
In any case, the crew had a plan.
That's fine. I can always come back later when you are asleep and vulnerable.
— Insignificant Funds (@4SLars) November 18, 2018
A plan that didn’t rest in the face of adversity, but rose to the occasion, because Christmas is a time of love.
But do you love me enough to stab me to death because it's more personal?
— Elisabeth 🇺🇸🖕 (@YourMomsucksTho) November 16, 2018
Good, good, but we still had to kiss him with fire, just to be sure.
That hissing sound is just my life force slowly leaving my body.
— Seamus McKracken (@seamusmckracken) November 14, 2018
Especially if that thing was stopping an alien invasion, on Christmas no less.
Remember, 'having to go see a guy about a thing' is still the best answer to get out of something.
— antisocialsocialist (@gobmentcheese) November 9, 2018
For after the cookies and milk, there was something better waiting.
did you ever get home and eat an entire chicken pot pie in complete silence well you should it's beautiful.
— The Getaway Girl (@The_GetawayGirl) November 9, 2018
And it wasn’t this, though that was also tempting. Thwarting required so much effort.
Baby, I'm just trying to find what I love so I can let it destroy me.
— Alpha Juliet (@hungary_eyes) May 5, 2018
Floridians called it the King of States. The rest of us knew better, though it’s lack of permafrost does make it more difficult for aliens to dig out a hiding spot in which to wait for Norwegians.
Please stop asking me to come visit you in Florida. People that live in Florida don’t even want to be in Florida.
— Anna Claus (@graceupongracie) December 18, 2018
Plus we loved what we were doing, even if not all the stockings were hung with care and if Wilford Brimley and some replicant-type things were trying to kill us. It was a complementary relationship.
My contempt for you isn’t a right. It’s a privilege
— JPo (@Peauxtassium) December 10, 2018
And “always” necessarily implies “sometimes,” which that occasion was, not least of which because we were trying to save the world so I could deliver coal and other presents to children the world over.
being an idiot isn't always such a great idea.
— Chewstroke (@chewstroke) December 7, 2018
That spirit, despite what you may have gathered from the documentary about our travails, is what allowed us to prevail. We bested the beasts, with an assist from the Nordic people, and off I sped.
The crew was flummoxed. Maybe because my beard wasn’t white, but they were forgetting the truth about why it was white. It wasn’t because I was old, but because I was cold. The snow and frost was frozen in and I wasted most of my antifreeze smashing my chess computer. Nevertheless, I still persisted.
I looked at the crew, or what remained of them, and at the charred wasteland that was once our camp and offered a proclamation. Christmas was still on. It was my privilege, and my duty. Merry Christmas to all, and to all a fiery night.
I'm Santa Claus
— Rich Cromwell (@rcromwell4) December 20, 2018
