Christmas Countdown Day 12
The Chaos Four crept along the snowy wall of Santa’s private wing. Peppermint climbed first, moving like she remembered her acrobat days fondly and inaccurately. She popped the window latch with a hairpin and slipped inside onto a wooden ceiling beam.
“The Nutcracker Patrol”
PEPPERMINT HAS A PLAN
Peppermint burst into the living room wearing:
her old acrobat harness
four carabiners
a confidence that was wildly unjustified
She slapped a rough sketch of Santa’s private hallway onto the table.
“Today,” she declared, “we go over the security.
No more tunnels.
No more floors.
No more land-based disasters.”
Joe blinked. “We’re going… aerial?”
Peppermint nodded proudly.
“We climb through that hallway window and carabiner across the ceiling beams until we reach the doors of the Christmas Kitchen. Clean, clever, quiet.”
Buttercup, tying her hair in a high ponytail, nodded.
“This could actually work.”
Mason raised a hand. “Can I bring a distraction device?”
All three shouted, “NO.”
Peppermint clinched it:
“Team — this is our smoothest plan yet.”
THEY IMPLEMENT THE PLAN
Night fell.
The air stung with peppermint frost.
The Chaos Four crept along the snowy wall of Santa’s private wing. Peppermint climbed first, moving like she remembered her acrobat days fondly and inaccurately.
She popped the window latch with a hairpin and slipped inside onto a wooden ceiling beam.
Buttercup followed — less gracefully, making several emotional noises on the way.
Joe scrambled in, muttering, “Nope. Nope. Nope. Nope.”
Mason arrived last, got stuck halfway, and had to be pulled inside by Joe.
Inside, all was silent.
A long hallway stretched under them.
Garlands hung from the beams like draping jungle vines.
The golden lights glowed gently.
Peppermint whispered:
“See? Easy. We attach the rope here—”
She clipped her carabiner with a satisfying click and swung gently.
Buttercup followed.
Joe clung to his rope like a frightened sloth.
Mason somehow swung sideways immediately and almost knocked down a wreath.
But remarkably…
THE PLAN WAS WORKING.
They were halfway down the ceiling route toward the kitchen doors.
Peppermint whispered, breathless with hope:
“Guys… look. We’re actually going to—”
From far below came a strange sound:
CLACK.
Peppermint froze mid-swing.
Buttercup whispered, “What was that.”
CLACK. CLACK. CLACK-CLACK.
Joe whispered, “Why does it sound… wooden?”
They peered down.
From a side corridor marched—
A full Nutcracker Patrol.
They were:
enormous
shiny
synchronized
armed
and clicking their wooden jaws in mechanical judgment
Peppermint whispered, “Since when do we have those?”
Joe hissed, “SINCE WE BLEW UP THE PANTRY.”
One Nutcracker stopped.
Its painted eyes slowly tipped up…
Right at Joe.
Joe mouthed, “No.”
The Nutcracker raised an arm.
FWIP!
A walnut shot out like a miniature cannonball and hit Joe in the thigh.
“MY LEG!” Joe cried, spinning wildly on the rope like a chaotic yo-yo.
Buttercup shrieked as a walnut grazed her hair.
Peppermint tried to climb faster — her carabiner screeched loudly across the beam.
Three Nutcrackers aimed at once.
A volley of walnuts fired upward.
THWACK! THWACK! THWACK!
Mason got hit in the forehead, spun upside down, and said, “I REGRET NOTHING!”
Peppermint grabbed the rope to steady herself — and the rope jerked to the side, swinging all four elves like a Christmas chandelier in an earthquake.
Garlands fell.
A wreath crashed to the floor.
A decorative nutcracker hat flew off.
The Nutcrackers entered full pursuit mode:
CLACK-CLACK-CLACK-CLACK-CLACK!
Peppermint screamed,
“BACK TO THE WINDOW! BACK! GO BACK!!”
They clawed along the rope like desperate koalas.
They were three feet from safety when—
Heavy footsteps echoed down the hall.
The Nutcrackers froze.
The elves froze.
The rope creaked ominously.
From around the corner appeared—
Bob.
Wearing a baby carrier.
With a ham tucked inside.
The ham was wearing a tiny knitted hat.
Bob did not acknowledge the ham.
Bob did not acknowledge the elves.
He simply stared at the Nutcrackers, who immediately snapped into a perfect salute… to the ham.
Peppermint whispered, “Oh my Santa, has he lost it?”
Joe: “He’s… he’s…maybe.”
Buttercup: “This is the healthiest coping mechanism he’s had yet.”
Bob exhaled slowly, the kind of exhale that could power a wind turbine.
Then looked up at the elves dangling like malfunctioning ornaments.
“Why,” Bob asked quietly, “are you on the ceiling.”
Peppermint opened her mouth.
“No,” Bob cut in. “No explanation. Ever.”
Down. Now. Bob pointed to the floor.
The Chaos Four dropped like a sack of panicked potatoes.
THUMP.
Bob pointed toward the exit.
“Out.”
Mason saluted.
Buttercup groaned.
Joe limped.
Peppermint looked like she’d seen the afterlife.
The Nutcrackers resumed their patrol, jaws clacking with righteous holiday fury.
❌ Attempt #9: FAILED
But we gained:
Peppermint’s failed acrobat comeback
Joe’s walnut PTSD
Mason nearly being used as a wrecking ball
Buttercup offended that walnuts were thrown at her
Peppermint, icing her shoulder, whispered:
“I don’t care what anyone says…
Tomorrow is the day.”
Everyone else loudly disagreed.
