I have been trying to do this for two hours and have failed miserably. It is 12:32. I got socks for Christmas. They are nice socks. I feel like I should be channeling Dumbledore here.
Therefore, you are getting this piece. It’s the first part of my Christmas Things, the rest of which you can find here:
[redacted]
[redacted]
[redacted]
You can also find the above here: [redacted]. It has the fastest cover in the history of covers. That’s the only difference. Maybe a better explanation of Sagatime, but you already know what that is.
Right?
You may find these things interesting. You may not. I do not care very much. I want to sleep. My sister and I have discussed marrige vows and the various ways of drinking water (e.g. Asian, German, etc). The alarm clock has red glowing numbers. It is way too late. The smoke detector is flashing. I hate that smoke detector and wish to smash it into 209381029319273+ tiny little pieces. My brain is probably in a different time zone.
I have learned to play the recorder. It is a soprano recorder. Which means a) it’s really loud and b) it’s really high. Which means the neighbors are annoyed. Even my ears are annoyed. It’s a great instrument until you realize that you can’t multitask while playing it. You can walk around. But you can’t multitask. And you CAN’T PLAY MULTIPLE NOTES AT ONCE.
Well. you can annoy people. That makes up for part of it. and YOU CAN WALK AROUND WITH IT.
I’m freezing.
[all redacted, for no particular reason :)))]
You may not question me.
Belated Merry Christmas. May it be filled with belated donuts love, hugs, donuts cookies, and donuts milk. The milk is important.
And this one is called “A Yuletide Carol,” by Charles Chickens Me.
Caitlin may recognize this one. I think I showed it to her. I actually wrote it last year but did not post it due to the lack of existence of blogging in my life. It’s not as funny as I remember, though. *sigh*
SELINA WRITE SOMETHING
IT IS NOW 12:42
IN THE MORNING, IF THAT WASN’T CLEAR ALREADY
I’M TIRED
MY EYES ARE TIRED
I REALLY NEED TO SLEEP
I ALSO REALLY NEED ONE OF THOSE EYE-COVERING THINGS BECAUSE OTHERWISE I WILL NOT BE ABLE TO SLEEP
ALSDKFJALSKDJFLAIEWORUAOEWUROW!!!
~
It was the holiday season, and Thor was in charge of the decorations.
He’d dragged in the Christmas tree, thrown the Yule log in the fireplace, donned the Santa Claus hat, and tried to bake a turkey. Odin had panicked and hurriedly excused him — read, kicked him out.
Which was why Thor was dressing up his two goats as reindeer.
With a red beard that stuck out in every direction and arms as thick as tree trunks, Thor was rather intimidating. But he was also wearing a Santa Claus hat, and Santa Claus hats make everything better.
Toothgnasher (Vixen) bleated and tried to shake off the antlers Thor had just stuck to his head. The goat’s head, not Thor’s.
“Be a good goat,” Thor grunted, straightening the antlers again.
Toothgrinder (Blitzen) butted Toothgnasher with his antlers. Immediately, Toothgnasher growled at the other goat and thrust his antlers at him.
“No, Toothgnasher. Bad Toothgrinder,” Thor said, pushing the two goats apart. They looked at him and bared their teeth.
“No,” he said again. “Bad goats.”
They shuffled apart. Toothgrinder snuggled up for a scratch, and Thor obliged. Toothgnasher butted Toothgrinder, attempting to secure a spot. Toothgrinder butted Toothgnasher back.
Thor pressed his face into his hands and promptly gave up. He pried apart the two goats. “Go on, shoo. Don’t bother too many people. Go on.”
Toothgnasher looked at Thor pleadingly.
“Oh, all right,” Thor sighed, and took off the antlers. Toothgnasher waggled his ears at Toothgrinder with a grin that only goats can manage. Toothgrinder growled.
“Stop it.” Thor dragged Toothgrinder back and unclipped his antlers rather reluctantly. “Run along, you two.” He pushed the goats away, and they ran wherever goats run when they are bored.
Thor got up, brushing off his pants and squinting into the sun. It was about ten o’clock in the morning, and he still had to persuade Odin to be Santa Claus.
Reaching into a pocket, he picked out a set of foldable skis (an early Christmas present from Ullr, the poor guy — he’d forgotten when Christmas was). He snapped them on and stepped into them.
Standing on the hilltop and whooping, Thor plunged down into the snow, skiing as if his life depended on it. He got to Valhalla twice as fast as usual, though with a twice-as-messy beard. He straightened it, checked that his Santa Claus hat was still on, and kicked the door open with the skill of someone who specializes in kicking doors open.
Thor opened his mouth to start dictating his speech (he’d written an excellent persuasive essay) and looked up at Odin and a large host of Viking ghosts. He promptly scraped the speech.
“Hi,” he said.
Odin was (very reluctantly) dressed in a too-big Santa Claus suit, glumly sporting a sack of toys slung over his back. “Ho ho ho,” he said unenthusiastically. “You have just tossed my reputation down the drain.”
“Yay!” yelled Thor, hugging Odin. He’d only recently learned how to do this without strangling people and was now doing it as much as possible.
Odin mumbled something unintelligible.
“What?” Thor beamed.
“Nothing,” Odin said. He straightened his Santa hat.
“Well, I was wondering if you had Christmas lights for the tree,” Thor said.
A brief smile flickered across Odin’s face. “Try the attic,” he said.
“And ornaments?”
“Up there too,” Odin said. He tugged at his sleeve.
“Good. I’m going to get them — see you later.” Thor ran outside, completely missing the fact that Odin was waving back. He tripped over Toothgnasher. “Oh. Hi.”
Toothgnasher bleated.
“What is it?”
The goat ran away.
Thor sighed. He would never understand goats.
He scratched his beard, frowning. Christmas tree lights, ornaments, and what was that smell?
The stench of burnt fowl wafted through the air.
Thor swore and ran off to save it.
It was the holiday season, and Thor was in charge of the decorations.
He’d dragged in the Christmas tree, thrown the Yule log in the fireplace, donned the Santa Claus hat, and tried to bake a turkey. Odin had panicked and hurriedly excused him — read, kicked him out.
Which was why Thor was dressing up his two goats as reindeer.
With a red beard that stuck out in every direction and arms as thick as tree trunks, Thor was rather intimidating. But he was also wearing a Santa Claus hat, and Santa Claus hats make everything better.
Toothgnasher (Vixen) bleated and tried to shake off the antlers Thor had just stuck to his head. The goat’s head, not Thor’s.
“Be a good goat,” Thor grunted, straightening the antlers again.
Toothgrinder (Blitzen) butted Toothgnasher with his antlers. Immediately, Toothgnasher growled at the other goat and thrust his antlers at him.
“No, Toothgnasher. Bad Toothgrinder,” Thor said, pushing the two goats apart. They looked at him and bared their teeth.
“No,” he said again. “Bad goats.”
They shuffled apart. Toothgrinder snuggled up for a scratch, and Thor obliged. Toothgnasher butted Toothgrinder, attempting to secure a spot. Toothgrinder butted Toothgnasher back.
Thor pressed his face into his hands and promptly gave up. He pried apart the two goats. “Go on, shoo. Don’t bother too many people. Go on.”
Toothgnasher looked at Thor pleadingly.
“Oh, all right,” Thor sighed, and took off the antlers. Toothgnasher waggled his ears at Toothgrinder with a grin that only goats can manage. Toothgrinder growled.
“Stop it.” Thor dragged Toothgrinder back and unclipped his antlers rather reluctantly. “Run along, you two.” He pushed the goats away, and they ran wherever goats run when they are bored.
Thor got up, brushing off his pants and squinting into the sun. It was about ten o’clock in the morning, and he still had to persuade Odin to be Santa Claus.
Reaching into a pocket, he picked out a set of foldable skis (an early Christmas present from Ullr, the poor guy — he’d forgotten when Christmas was). He snapped them on and stepped into them.
Standing on the hilltop and whooping, Thor plunged down into the snow, skiing as if his life depended on it. He got to Valhalla twice as fast as usual, though with a twice-as-messy beard. He straightened it, checked that his Santa Claus hat was still on, and kicked the door open with the skill of someone who specializes in kicking doors open.
Thor opened his mouth to start dictating his speech (he’d written an excellent persuasive essay) and looked up at Odin and a large host of Viking ghosts. He promptly scraped the speech.
“Hi,” he said.
Odin was (very reluctantly) dressed in a too-big Santa Claus suit, glumly sporting a sack of toys slung over his back. “Ho ho ho,” he said unenthusiastically. “You have just tossed my reputation down the drain.”
“Yay!” yelled Thor, hugging Odin. He’d only recently learned how to do this without strangling people and was now doing it as much as possible.
Odin mumbled something unintelligible.
“What?” Thor beamed.
“Nothing,” Odin said. He straightened his Santa hat.
“Well, I was wondering if you had Christmas lights for the tree,” Thor said.
A brief smile flickered across Odin’s face. “Try the attic,” he said.
“And ornaments?”
“Up there too,” Odin said. He tugged at his sleeve.
“Good. I’m going to get them — see you later.” Thor ran outside, completely missing the fact that Odin was waving back. He tripped over Toothgnasher. “Oh. Hi.”
Toothgnasher bleated.
“What is it?”
The goat ran away.
Thor sighed. He would never understand goats.
He scratched his beard, frowning. Christmas tree lights, ornaments, and what was that smell?
The stench of burnt fowl wafted through the air.
Thor swore and ran off to save it.
~~~
“Thor swore” rhymes. I’m tired.
MERRY CHIRSTMAS TO ALL AND TO ALL A GOOD NIGHT.
(you knew that was coming, did you? Or did you not?)
TO BE OR NOT TO BE THAT IS THE QUESTION
AND I DON’T KNWO WHAT AI’MM WAYING ANYMORE.
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