Christmas Countdown Day 10

“Mason’s Device of Doom (Outdoor Edition)”

The Chaos Four gathered in the courtyard, snow crunching under their boots, breath puffing in the freezing air. Two enormous snowmen guards flanked the back entrance of Santa’s private kitchen—silent, stoic, vaguely menacing.

Peppermint pointed.

“See? They’re still there. We just need to distract them long enough to slip past.”

Joe muttered, “Or we could NOT commit another felony.”

Buttercup adjusted her scarf dramatically.

“I refuse to die in snow. I deserve velvet.”

Mason grinned and held up a… humming box wrapped in candy cane paper and a big red bow.

Peppermint groaned.

“Why.”

Buttercup crossed herself with a candy cane symbol in hopes the spirit of Christmas would protect her.

“Why do you invent things?”

Joe: “What’s inside it?”

Mason: “Confidence and science.”

Joe: “So nothing.”

THE NON-EXPLOSIVE CONTRACT (Again.)

Peppermint forced Mason to sign:

THE NON-EXPLOSIVE COURTYARD AGREEMENT™

Clauses included:

“No combusting.”

“No chemical reactions involving snow.”

“No weaponized gumdrops.”

“No frequencies that make snowmen hostile.”

“NO GLITTER.”

Mason signed cheerfully.

Buttercup whispered to Peppermint,

“Are we really going to let Mason do this?”

THE DEVICE (Outdoor Failure Edition)

Mason held up the box with pride.

It vibrated.

It hummed.

It leaked a questionable pink smoke.

Peppermint: “…Mason. Why is it smoking?”

Mason: “It’s pre-warming.”

Joe: “THAT IS NOT A FEATURE.”

Buttercup: “Is it supposed to smell like burnt toothpaste?”

Mason: “That’s the peppermint extractor!”

Silence.

Snowman #1 blinked.

Snowman #2 frowned.

THE “PLAN”

Mason positioned the device and whispered:

“Behold—my Snowman Neutralizer 3000.

It confuses their snowy brainwaves.”

Joe: “Snow does NOT have brainwaves—”

Peppermint: “Activate it before they hear us!”

Buttercup: “I want credit in my obituary.”

Mason flipped the switch.

The box made a polite ding…

…and then a horrific low-pitched BWOOOOOOOMMMMP noise like a dying tuba.

The snowmen leaned in.

Which was not encouraging.

Peppermint squeaked,

“Is it working?!”

Mason: “Yes! It’s neutralizing the—”

The box screamed.

“WEEEEEEEE-OOOOOOOO-WEEEEEEEE-OOOOOOOO!”

Joe: “IT’S AN ALARM! YOU BUILT AN ALARM AGAIN!!”

Buttercup: “MY HAIR IS VIBRATING.”

Peppermint: “THE SNOWMEN ARE MOVING—RUN!!”

The snowmen began their slow but aggressive marshmallow-waddle toward them.

The elves panicked.

ENTER: BOB (and his ham)

Through the swirling snow, a figure emerged—

BOB, The Bulky Elf Guard.

Holding one massive ham like a medieval weapon.

Bob:

“WHAT ARE YOU FOUR DOING?

WHY IS THERE SCREAMING?

WHY IS THE SNOW MOVING??”

Peppermint: “It was Mason!”

Buttercup: “IT IS ALWAYS MASON.”

Joe: “Please arrest him specifically.”

Mason: “I’d prefer applause.”

Bob stomped over and grabbed the box.

He shook it.

Hard.

The box whined.

Then—

BOOM-PFFFT!

A tiny explosion.

Barely a puff.

But enough to blast a giant mushroom cloud of peppermint glitter into the sky.

It drifted down like festive fallout.

Covering Bob.

Covering Bob’s ham.

Covering the snowmen.

Covering EVERYTHING within a 40-foot radius.

Peppermint gasped.

Buttercup choked on glitter.

Joe rubbed glitter out of his eyes.

Bob stood frozen, sparkling like a disco ball.

His ham shimmered like it was going to prom.

Snowmen looked so offended they somehow frowned harder.

Bob inhaled slowly.

Very slowly.

Then roared:

“YOU—ARE—DONE.”

He pointed the glitter-covered ham at the Chaos Four.

“HOME.

NOW.

BEFORE I THROW THIS HAM AT YOU.”

They ran screaming into the night.

❌ Attempt #7: FAILED

…in the most iconic way yet.

Snowmen: horrified

Bob: sparkliest creature alive

Ham: violated

Mason: proud

Peppermint: “We’re SO CLOSE, I can FEEL IT”

Everyone else: “No we’re not please stop”

Joe’s mission log entry:

“Day 10: The device failed. Bob exploded. Glitter everywhere. I need therapy.” Buttercup: “And a lint roller.”

Peppermint: “Tomorrow is the day!”

It is not.