Christmas Countdown Day 21
Bob showed up at their door unannounced. That alone was concerning. He stood there in full uniform, ham baby strapped to his chest, radio crackling, jaw clenched so tight it could cut glass. “Put on your coats,” Bob said flatly.
“The Mine Cart Incident (Bob Has Had Enough)”
Bob showed up at their door unannounced.
That alone was concerning.
He stood there in full uniform, ham baby strapped to his chest, radio crackling, jaw clenched so tight it could cut glass.
“Put on your coats,” Bob said flatly.
Peppermint blinked.
“…Good morning?”
Bob didn’t blink back.
“You are being relocated.”
Buttercup squinted.
“Relocated… like spiritually?”
Joe clutched his scarf.
“Bob, I just woke up.”
Mason grinned.
“Is this about the ornaments?”
Bob inhaled slowly.
“No,” he said.
“This is about my mental health.”
WELCOME TO THE COAL MINES
Bob marched them through the village, past confused elves, past snowmen guards, past a nutcracker who saluted out of fear.
He stopped at the edge of the coal mines and unlocked the iron gate.
“This,” Bob announced,
“is the furthest possible location from Santa’s kitchen.”
Peppermint nodded respectfully.
Buttercup limped inside.
Joe sighed with relief.
Mason leaned over the tracks.
“…Is that a cart?”
Bob’s eye twitched.
“You will sort coal,” Bob continued.
“You will stay in the marked zone.”
“You will not explore.”
“You will not touch levers.”
“You will not ride anything with wheels.”
Bob locked the gate.
He pointed directly at Mason.
“Especially you.”
Then he walked away.
THE STUPID THOUGHTS BEGIN IMMEDIATELY
Silence.
Coal dust drifted.
Peppermint whispered,
“…Okay but hear me out.”
Joe screamed internally.
“No.”
Buttercup tapped the rail with her boot.
“These tracks go somewhere.”
Peppermint’s eyes lit up.
“Old mines were built under infrastructure.”
Joe groaned.
“We are NOT doing this.”
Mason was already in the cart.
“I’m just sitting,” he said.
“The cart and I are bonding.”
The cart creaked ominously.
Buttercup hopped in.
“If we die, we die together.”
Joe sighed and climbed in last.
“I hope jail has cocoa.”
Peppermint swallowed.
“…Push.”
THE CART THAT SHOULD NOT HAVE BEEN MOVED
The cart rolled.
Slow at first.
Then faster.
Then much faster.
Peppermint screamed.
Joe yelled prayers to gods he didn’t believe in.
Buttercup laughed like she’d lost her mind.
Mason leaned forward.
“GOOD NEWS — NO BRAKES.”
Peppermint: “WHY WOULD THERE BE BRAKES?!”
Joe: “THIS ISN’T A PLAN IT’S A BETRAYAL.”
The tunnel split.
The cart hit a switch.
NO ONE TOUCHED IT.
The cart launched downhill.
NOT THE KITCHEN. MUCH WORSE.
They burst through a barrier and flew into—
THE ABANDONED WINTER ARCHIVES
The cart slammed to a stop.
Scrolls fell.
Snow globes rolled.
A sign swung ominously:
DO NOT TOUCH (SERIOUSLY)
Silence.
Peppermint whispered,
“…This is not under the kitchen.”
Joe sobbed.
“This is where hope goes to die.”
Buttercup squinted at a glowing crate.
“Are those cursed ornaments?”
Mason crouched.
“Oh cool. A lever.”
EVERYONE:
“NO.”
ELF RESCUE UNIT: ACTIVATED
Back at the mine—
Bob’s radio exploded with shouting.
“Bob! They’re gone!”
“There’s cart tracks!”
“WHY IS THERE ALWAYS A CART?!”
Bob closed his eyes.
“…Activate the Elf Rescue Unit.”
Sirens wailed.
Rescue elves slid down ropes.
Maps were unfurled.
Someone yelled, “WHY IS THERE A LEVER INVOLVED.”
Bob stormed down the emergency access stairs, ham baby bouncing like it was emotionally stressed.
MASON NEARLY ENDS HISTORY
Mason tripped.
Something fell from his coat.
Clink.
Peppermint screamed.
“MASON WHAT IS THAT—”
Mason blinked.
“…Is this mine?”
It beeped.
Joe tackled Buttercup.
Peppermint dove behind a shelf.
Bob burst in and body-checked Mason into a wall.
The device skidded across the floor and fizzled out.
Silence.
Dust settled.
Bob stood there, breathing hard.
“You,” he said calmly, pointing at Mason,
“are not allowed near transportation, history, levers, OR explosives.”
❌ Attempt #13: FAILED (PLUS A RESCUE INCIDENT)
The Chaos Four were escorted back to the village wrapped in thermal blankets, yelled at by six rescue elves, and officially labeled:
“High-Risk Seasonal Hazards”
Peppermint stared at the sky.
“So… tomorrow?”
Bob turned slowly.
“Tomorrow,” he said,
“we stop pretending this ends peacefully.”
The ham baby squeaked.
Bob didn’t argue.
