Christmas Countdown Day 18
The Ornament Sorting Room was massive—floor to ceiling racks of shiny, fragile spheres, each one enchanted to NOT break unless handled by someone extremely stupid. Unfortunately… The Chaos Four were exceptionally qualified.
“The Great Ornament Sorting Scandal”
The Chaos Four limped into Friday looking like they’d survived a blizzard, a mild electrical fire, and three emotionally devastating musical numbers.
Peppermint’s right eye twitched every time she heard sleigh bells.
Joe had wrapped a scarf around his entire head like an injured Victorian child.
Buttercup carried a heating pad like a newborn.
Mason still had glue in his hair, and bits of conveyor-belt confetti stuck to his coat.
And all four of them kept muttering the same thing:
“WHERE. IS. OUR. BACKUP?!”
Only a distant mountain goat responded.
Peppermint’s Plan of Desperation: Ornament Disguise Strategy
Peppermint slammed a notebook down on the table.
“Okay. Since our ‘backup’ ditched us, we’re doing this ourselves. Again.”
Joe sighed like a widowed poet.
Buttercup sniffled dramatically.
Mason ate a gumdrop like it was emotional support candy.
Peppermint continued:
“We infiltrate the Ornament Sorting Room.
Blend in with the workers.
Sneak past the Nutcracker hallway.
Slip into the kitchen.
BOOM. Hot chocolate.”
Joe blinked nervously.
“Pep… we have literally never blended in anywhere.”
Buttercup tossed her hair.
“Speak for yourself. I blend beautifully.”
Mason belched glitter.
Peppermint ignored all of it.
“Let’s move.”
THE ROOM OF A THOUSAND ORNAMENTS
(Where Silence Goes to Die)
The Ornament Sorting Room was massive—floor to ceiling racks of shiny, fragile spheres, each one enchanted to NOT break unless handled by someone extremely stupid.
Unfortunately…
The Chaos Four were exceptionally qualified.
They walked in wearing disguise aprons that read:
“Ornament Technician Level 1 (Definitely Trained)”
Buttercup made them.
They were uneven.
One was upside down.
No one questioned them because ornament sorters have seen EVERYTHING and had long since given up hope.
For exactly eight seconds… things went well.
Then Mason touched a gold ornament.
It cracked.
Buttercup froze.
Joe whispered,
“…that’s not possible.”
Peppermint inhaled sharply.
“Mason. SWEET SNOWFLAKE OF CHAOS. PUT YOUR HANDS IN YOUR POCKETS.”
Mason tried.
He knocked over another ornament.
Crack.
Crack crack crack.
CRASH.
Peppermint screamed,
“OH COME ON THEY’RE NOT EVEN SUPPOSED TO BREAK!”
Then—
The ornaments began humming.
Low at first.
Angry.
Resentful.
Joe backed away slowly.
“Pep… Pep these are Symphonic Ornaments. When they’re upset they—”
THEY EXPLODE INTO SONG.
A deafening, unholy chorus of “JINGLE BELLS” detonated through the room like a festive war crime.
Not one song.
ALL THE VERSIONS.
Jazz Jingle Bells
Gregorian Chant Jingle Bells
Dubstep Jingle Bells
A children’s choir that was way too intense
Shelves shook.
Lights flickered.
Glitter erupted into the air like it had been personally insulted.
Peppermint was launched backward into a barrel of ribbon and emerged tangled like a decorative hostage.
Joe dropped to his knees screaming,
“THIS IS NOT HOW MUSIC WORKS.”
Buttercup shrieked,
“THIS IS NOT MY KEY!”
Mason?
Mason grabbed a broken candy cane and began conducting.
“STRINGS, FEEL IT. BELLS, COMMIT. TENORS—MORE FEAR.”
The ornaments responded.
They responded AGGRESSIVELY.
More cracked.
More sang.
Some began spinning in place like possessed disco balls.
One ornament rolled across the floor yelling,
“DASHING THROUGH THE—”
Another screamed harmony.
Peppermint tried crawling away and got buried under a cascade of tinsel.
Joe attempted to unplug something.
There was nothing to unplug.
Buttercup climbed a ladder screaming,
“I AM NOT DYING IN SEASONAL DECOR.”
Then—
A bass ornament dropped from the ceiling and shattered.
The room went silent.
One beat.
Then the FINAL ORNAMENT activated.
A massive, red, ominous sphere at the center of the room began glowing.
Joe screamed,
“THAT’S THE CONDUCTOR—”
It unleashed:
A FULL ORCHESTRAL FINALE OF JINGLE BELLS WITH FIREWORK SOUNDS
Glitter cannons.
Snow machines.
Fake reindeer neighing.
The door burst open.
ENTER: BOB (HAM FIRST)
Bob stormed in, ham baby strapped securely to his chest, glitter already collecting in its folds.
He stopped.
Took it all in.
Mason conducting like a demon maestro
Buttercup hanging from a ladder
Joe sobbing under a wreath
Peppermint screaming from a ribbon cocoon
Ornaments screaming louder than anyone
Bob whispered:
“…I asked for ONE quiet day.”
An ornament hit him in the shoulder and started singing directly at his face.
Bob snapped.
He raised his hand.
The ornaments stopped.
Instant silence.
Glitter drifted down like shame.
Bob pointed slowly at the Chaos Four.
“You are done.”
He gestured at the wreckage.
“No more ornaments. No more music. No more pretending you are trained professionals.”
The ham baby squeaked.
Bob adjusted the carrier gently.
“OUT.”
❌ Attempt #11: FAILED
But honestly?
This was expected.
Backup status: Missing. Possibly dead. Possibly napping.
Peppermint dusted glitter off her coat and declared:
“Tomorrow. Tomorrow WE get that hot chocolate.”
