Christmas Countdown Day 22
Peppermint bolted. Joe ran directly into Buttercup. Buttercup slipped on a roll of wrapping paper. Mason knocked over an entire display of ribbon spools, which began unrolling at alarming speed. Nutcrackers charged. Wrapping paper wrapped.
“Nothing Makes Sense Anymore (But We Keep Going)”
The Chaos Four woke up Monday morning feeling like they had personally fought the North Pole and lost.
Peppermint’s back cracked when she stood up. Buttercup had taped her ankle, knee, and something she thought was a bruise but might just be emotional damage. Joe stared into his mug for a long time and whispered, “I should have been a librarian.” Mason stretched, knocked over a chair, and said, “My body feels GREAT.”
Everyone stared at him.
“What?” Mason asked. “Trauma energizes me.”
They all muttered the same question for the ninth time that week:
“WHERE. IS. OUR. BACKUP?!”
No answer. Just wind. And somewhere far away, a goat screamed.
Peppermint clapped her hands.
“Okay. New strategy. We stop doing big plans.”
Joe nodded eagerly. “Yes. Small. Safe. Legal.”
Peppermint continued: “Today, we try multiple tiny plans. Minimal chaos.”
Mason raised his hand. “I have eight ideas.”
Everyone screamed: “NO.”
ATTEMPT #1: INSPECTION ELVES (AUTHORITY COSPLAY)
Buttercup slapped clipboards into everyone’s hands with the confidence of someone who had absolutely never been questioned by authority in her life.
They were blank.
One had a doodle of a snowman crying. Another had the word “CHECKLIST” written at the top and nothing else. Mason’s was covered in glitter and said HOT CHOCOLATE in suspiciously festive handwriting.
Joe squinted. “…There’s nothing written here.”
Buttercup waved him off. “Confidence fills in the blanks.”
Peppermint adjusted her apron, which read in bold, official-looking font:
SEASONAL COMPLIANCE OVERSIGHT
(DO NOT QUESTION)
Joe’s said the same thing, except his was crooked. Buttercup’s had glitter accents. Mason’s said OVERSIGHT three times in different fonts.
They marched toward the kitchen hallway like they belonged there.
Peppermint nodded sternly at passing elves. Joe aggressively checked imaginary boxes. Buttercup sighed loudly at random corners like she was disappointed in the infrastructure. Mason leaned toward the wall, tapped it, and whispered,
“I’m inspecting… vibes.”
Shockingly?
It worked.
They passed:
two tired elves
a rolling cart of sugar
a door marked KITCHEN ACCESS — AUTHORIZED ONLY
They were thirty feet from the kitchen when the nutcrackers appeared.
Not marched.
Appeared.
Four of them. Perfect posture. Dead eyes. Synchronized steps.
One snapped its jaw.
Peppermint froze.
Joe whispered, “…we didn’t plan for nutcrackers.”
Buttercup smiled too brightly. “Good morning! Seasonal compliance audit!”
The nutcracker tilted its head.
Another stepped forward and pointed directly at Mason’s clipboard.
“…WHY IS THAT SPARKLING.”
Mason glanced down. “…Internal memo?”
Before anyone could recover, a REAL inspection elf rounded the corner.
She stopped. Stared at them. They stared back.
Her eyes dropped to Mason’s clipboard.
“…Why,” she asked slowly, “does yours say HOT CHOCOLATE in glitter?”
Mason blinked. “Morale initiative?”
The nutcrackers’ eyes flashed red.
The alarm went off.
Not a bell.
A stampede-level siren that screamed: “UNAUTHORIZED AUTHORITY DETECTED.”
Everything exploded into motion.
Peppermint bolted. Joe ran directly into Buttercup. Buttercup slipped on a roll of wrapping paper. Mason knocked over an entire display of ribbon spools, which began unrolling at alarming speed.
Nutcrackers charged.
Wrapping paper wrapped.
Elves screamed, “WHY IS IT ALWAYS RIBBON?!”
Joe got tangled and screamed, “I’M A PRESENT NOW—”
Peppermint slid under a table. Buttercup cartwheeled over a cart. Mason tried to “blend in” by standing very still next to a nutcracker.
It did not work.
They collided in the hallway, wrapped together in paper, ribbon, and shame as security descended.
❌ ATTEMPT #1 FAILED
Result:
Kitchen access lost
Nutcracker alert level raised
Inspection elves now legally banned from clipboards
Mason is no longer allowed near office supplies
Peppermint, breathless, whispered, “Okay… next idea.”
Joe groaned. Buttercup laughed hysterically. Mason raised his hand.
“I think I made it worse.”
ATTEMPT #2: OVERSIZED GIFT BOX INFILTRATION
(“If we can’t walk in, we ship ourselves in.”)
Peppermint tore a strip of wrapping paper off her sleeve and hissed, “Okay. New plan. No clipboards. No authority. No talking.”
Joe coughed glitter. “Bless.”
Buttercup, still half-wrapped from the inspection fiasco, froze mid-untangling.
“…The gifts.”
Everyone followed her gaze.
The party staging area was filled with enormous, beautifully wrapped boxes, many stamped in bold red ink:
TO BE DELIVERED TO KITCHEN / PARTY STORAGE
Peppermint’s heart skipped.
“They move the gifts through the kitchen.”
Joe’s voice dropped. “…Directly through it.”
Mason grinned. “I volunteer to be fragile.”
They did not discuss this further.
THE PLAN (IT SOUNDS BRILLIANT FOR THREE SECONDS)
- Hide inside oversized party gift boxes
- Get rolled through the kitchen
- Exit quietly
- Acquire hot chocolate
- Escape like legends
Buttercup nodded solemnly. “This is either genius or deeply stupid.”
Joe sighed. “It’s us. It’s both.
EXECUTION (IMMEDIATE REGRET)
They selected four boxes.
Peppermint’s read: FRAGILE — FESTIVE CENTERPIECE
Buttercup’s: VERY IMPORTANT — DO NOT SHAKE
Joe’s: CAREFUL — LIQUIDS INSIDE (he did not like that)
Mason’s box was noticeably smaller.
Mason shrugged. “I’m fine. I compress.”
They climbed in.
The lids closed.
Tape ripped.
Too much tape.
Peppermint immediately realized she could not sit up.
Joe whispered into the dark, “…why does my box smell like oranges and fear?”
Buttercup kicked something and yelped, “I’M STUCK ON A BOW.”
Mason’s muffled voice floated out cheerfully: “Worth it.”
TRANSPORT (HOPE, THEN DREAD)
The boxes were lifted.
Rolled.
Bumped.
Peppermint held her breath.
Footsteps echoed. Voices passed close. She smelled cocoa.
“…We’re moving,” she whispered.
They turned a corner.
Kitchen sounds drifted in—metal, steam, clatter.
Peppermint smiled in the darkness.
Then—
A voice barked, “STACK THEM HIGH.”
No.
NO.
They were lifted again.
Stacked.
Peppermint braced as Joe’s box slid dangerously.
Buttercup shrieked. Mason laughed.
They were set down hard.
Silence.
Wind whistled faintly.
Joe whispered, “…why do I hear wind?”
INVENTORY HELL (OUTDOOR EDITION)
Footsteps approached.
A clipboard slapped against Peppermint’s box.
A tired voice muttered, “Okay… centerpiece, centerpiece, giant bow, haunted nutcracker, why is this one breathing—”
Peppermint froze.
Tape ripped.
Light flooded in.
Snow.
Cold air.
An exhausted inventory elf stared down at Peppermint’s wide, guilty eyes.
There was a long pause.
Peppermint whispered, “…Surprise?”
The elf closed her eyes.
She ripped open the other boxes.
Joe spilled out coughing glitter. Buttercup rolled free dramatically. Mason popped up grinning.
The elf pinched the bridge of her nose.
“Do you have any idea how much paperwork you just created?”
Mason raised a hand. “Ballpark?”
She blew a whistle.
SNOWMEN SECURITY ACTIVATED
Coal eyes lit up.
Three enchanted snowmen turned in unison.
One raised a mitten.
Another loaded a snowball.
The third snarled, “UNAUTHORIZED PRESENT.”
Peppermint screamed, “RUN.”
Snowballs flew instantly.
Joe ducked and slipped. Buttercup launched one back and yelled, “I REGRET NOTHING.”
Mason caught a snowball, examined it, and said, “Dense. Impressive.”
More snowmen joined.
The courtyard erupted into chaos.
Elves scattered. Boxes tipped. Ribbon flew.
Peppermint tackled Joe behind a crate. Buttercup pelted a snowman with wrapping paper. Mason tripped, slid, and accidentally created a snow ramp.
A snowball nailed Peppermint in the back of the head.
She screamed, “THAT ONE HAD FEELINGS.”
❌ ATTEMPT #2 FAILED (SPECTACULARLY)
Results:
- Kitchen access lost
- Gift staging area now under heavy surveillance
- Snowmen patrol doubled
- Nutcrackers alerted to “mobile cargo threats”
- The Chaos Four officially labeled SUSPICIOUS CARGO
They fled covered in snow, glitter, and shame.
Peppermint glanced back at the kitchen doors one last time.
“So close,” she whispered.
Joe collapsed face-first into a snowbank. Buttercup laughed hysterically. Mason nodded proudly.
“Worth it.”
ATTEMPT #3: THE NUTCRACKER INCIDENT
(Military Mistake. Domino Disaster.)
The Chaos Four limped down the corridor like survivors of a seasonal battlefield.
Peppermint’s hair was crusted with snow. Joe had lost a shoe and his will to live. Buttercup’s arm was still wrapped in ribbon. Mason was smiling like this had all gone according to plan.
They rounded the corner just as—
CLICK. CLACK. TURN.
The Nutcracker Drill Team marched past.
Perfect posture. Polished boots. Soulless wooden eyes. Each step identical. Each soldier exactly one arm’s length apart.
Joe whispered, “…those are not normal elves.”
Buttercup stopped walking.
“…If we march with them,” she whispered slowly, “they’ll assume we belong.”
Joe laughed. Too loudly. “No. No they will not.”
Mason was already stepping into formation.
Peppermint gasped. “MASON—”
Too late.
He slid between two nutcrackers like he’d always been there.
Matched their stride instantly.
Peppermint panicked. “FOLLOW HIM—”
And like fools…
They did.
THE WORST FORMATION EVER ATTEMPTED
They marched.
Badly.
Joe was off-beat by half a second. Buttercup tripped, recovered, tripped again. Peppermint turned left when everyone else turned right. Mason saluted like he was greeting royalty at a parade.
CLICK. CLACK. TURN.
Sweat rolled down Peppermint’s face.
Joe whispered, “I can’t feel my legs.”
Buttercup hissed, “THIS IS NOT MY LEFT.”
Mason whispered cheerfully, “I think I’m nailing this.”
They were not.
THE MOMENT OF DOOM
The Nutcracker Captain stopped.
Every nutcracker stopped.
Absolute silence.
The Captain turned slowly and pointed directly at Mason.
“You,” he barked.
“WHY ARE YOU SMILING.”
Mason froze.
“…Morale?”
The Captain’s eye twitched.
“YOU WILL SMILE LESS.”
He blew his whistle.
FORCED DRILLS (THE WORST IDEA POSSIBLE)
“DRILL SEQUENCE,” the Captain barked.
STOMP.
TURN.
CLICK.
SALUTE.
Peppermint’s knee buckled.
Joe dropped his remaining shoe.
Buttercup spun the wrong way and collided with a nutcracker.
Mason tried to correct—
And overcorrected.
His boot clipped the heel of the nutcracker in front of him.
Just barely.
Barely enough.
THE DOMINO BEGINS
One nutcracker wobbled.
Another tried to compensate.
Wood hit wood.
A perfectly straight line of elite military decor began to tilt.
Peppermint whispered, “Oh no.”
The first nutcracker fell.
CLACK.
The second fell.
CLACK.
Then the third.
Then ten.
Then all of them.
A full, magnificent nutcracker domino collapse, clacking and crashing down the hallway in slow-motion horror.
STOMP—CLACK—CRASH—THUD—WOOD EVERYWHERE.
Joe screamed. Buttercup dove. Peppermint covered her head.
Mason stood frozen, watching the line fall.
“…Wow,” he said softly.
“That was clean.”
TOTAL MILITARY MELTDOWN
Nutcrackers shouted.
Whistles shrieked.
Drums tipped over and rolled down the hallway, still playing.
One nutcracker spun in place yelling, “FORMATION—”
And fell.
Another tried to stand and knocked over three more.
The Captain screamed, “THIS IS A DISASTER.”
Peppermint yelled, “ABORT ABORT ABORT.”
They tried to run.
They slipped on wooden limbs.
Joe tripped over a drum. Buttercup vaulted a fallen nutcracker. Peppermint slid on polish. Mason accidentally saluted again.
ENTER: BOB (HAM FIRST, SOUL LAST)
Bob appeared at the end of the corridor.
Ham baby strapped securely to his chest.
He stared at:
• A hallway full of fallen nutcrackers
• Drums rolling unattended
• Joe crying
• Buttercup arguing with a boot
• Peppermint whispering apologies to the floor
• Mason standing in the center of the wreckage
The ham baby squeaked.
Bob closed his eyes.
He did not yell.
He did not sigh.
He said, very quietly:
“…I watched them fall.”
No one spoke.
Bob opened his eyes and pointed.
“OUT.”
❌ ATTEMPT #3 FAILED
(FINAL ATTEMPT OF DAY 22)
Results:
Nutcracker Drill Team temporarily decommissioned
Military pride shattered
Chaos Four banned from all formations, lines, and rhythmic movement
Mason officially listed as a “Structural Hazard”
Peppermint leaned against the wall, shaking.
“That… that was our last idea.”
Joe slid down beside her. “My soul left my body during the third clack.”
Buttercup laughed weakly. “We caused a military incident.”
Mason nodded proudly.
“…worth it.”
They shuffled away bruised, frozen, and completely out of ideas.
Day 22 was over.
Tomorrow?
Tomorrow would be worse.
