Ben Peek (benpeek) wrote,
Ben Peek

The Heat (Day 9)

The Heat

(Day 9)

We really need to buy air conditioning.

Our landlord needs to buy air conditioning.

I don't care if he charged us more.

I'd pay a fortune.



You know what would be better, though?

A cuter landlord who gouged us for air conditioning?

An ice age.

An ice age?


Like, y'know, everything frozen over.

Everything just white and blue and so cold the sky is like ice.

That's--that's like an air conditioned world.

And we could ride tigers.


Cars wouldn't work in that cold. We would need something else.

We could tame tigers. They'd be all orange and black across the white. We'd have saddles and reins on them and they'd carry us across the snow, take us anywhere we would want.

We could eat them!

The tigers?!

Yeah. Tiger meat.

I never had tiger meat--

We're not eating the tigers.

The tigers are what will keep us alive. We might have to kill one or two for fur, because it'll be so beautifully cold, but after that--no, we couldn't eat them.

They're our companions.

What would we eat then?





One whale would feed us for months. We would hunt it in the sea, carried in boats that we built. We would keep harpoons and we would sail into the rough water, the cold spray against out faces--and we would spear whales out there, and drag one up onto land, where it would die, and we could cut away its meat for us and the tigers.

Aren't whales endangered?

With the Japanese all dead, they'll be safe.

Aren't you Japanese?

I am the last Japanese.

On a tiger?

On a tiger.

We could build igloos.


They'd be made from ice, and cold, so cold that they would defy any igloo building logic. It would be like living in air conditioning times five.

Okay, maybe igloos.

And evil Santa midgets.


We need a villain in this frozen paradise of ours.

I dunno--I dunno about this.

I was happy just riding tigers and hunting whales and living in our paradise. Evil midget Santa doesn't--

We could save Christmas!


So we could take it back to being about the mystery, about the joy--about how it was when you were a kid, and you thought Santa came into your house and gave you presents, rather than realising that your parents did it, and there was no magic at all. We'd kill the evil Santa midgets for the magic.

Wait, did you just say midgets?

Yeah. An Army of them.

Each of them born out of the corpse of the original Santa--that Saint Nicholas dude from Turkey, who went around giving presents, except that they weren't really presents, and he'd give dowries so that poor girls could get good husbands--

I wish I had a good dowry.

Dudes don't get dowries.

That doesn't mean I don't need a good husband.

And, and, quiet, you're like, stopping my train of thought.

So, the original Santa is dead--but dead in the ice, so he has been kept pure for thousands of years, but something has happened. The purity of his dream of having girls get good husbands has been tainted over the years, first becoming kindness for everyone, and then secondly because this mass consumerist driven event that Christmas has become has forced, from his body, evil midgets to spawn every Christmas for hundreds of years until they formed an army that wanted to bring a world destroying heat to the world.

Those bastards.

On our tigers, we'll hunt them in our frozen paradise, and kill them.

Fuck, yeah.





Fuck, yeah.

(The 12 Days of Christmas is in it's 4th Day. Finally, a Christmas theme emerges.)

Tags: 12days
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