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The wheat fields rock back and forth on the winds of dread. Atop a small hillock, a Transylvanian peasant leans against a withered tree, staring. A moment passes, anf time flows. The man's head cocks up. There is a scent in the air, a faint, yet familiar scent. This strange aroma circulates his fields, and then, something appears on the horizon. Some strange mass, that he can't make out. At the same time, there is a sound. The noise comes from directly in front of him, yet sounds muffled, as though it travelled many leaguesto bear witness to some grand spectacle. With no period of transition, the mass on the horizon suddenly appeared closer. The man's filthy, unwashed locks blow in the dark winds. The noise starts to get louder, and louder. The mass comes closer. The aroma turns to that of a thousand decaying corpses, the noise, to the piercing howl of a Banshee Queen. The man's mouth flutters in horror, but his eyes are caught, captivated by the mass. As it approaches closer, he identifies it to be a cloud of nothing. The winds grow stronger, the noise louder, and the smell more potent, until nothing is sensed amidst the chaos. Then, after another moment passes, everything stops. Shuddering, the man opens his eyes, and takes his hands away from his ears. The cloud is less than an inch away from hin, and it approaches, until it is almost inside his ear, and whispers in a voice that was the very embodiment of malevolence. The man strains his sense and makes out a single, sinister phrase. "Have a merry Christmas, and a happy New Year."
I entered a mall, the other day. I had hoped to obtain some small sundries, maybe a smoothie, or some other beverage of a texture-friendly manner. Maybe even make a stop at the arcade. What can I say, I was feeling... frivolous. With so many possibilities in the air at the time, I stood and pondered my situation for a moment or two. Then some strange being, resembling a Neanderthal in appearance, came up to me in a ridiculous striped outfit. He gave me the season's greetings. The season is one of nefarious, dare I say, maleficent, activities, that may very well result in the ultimate destruction of mankind. Only by the grace of whatever dark gods watch over me do I survive these times. Don't get me wrong, I enjoy receiving free things because I out-lived Jesus. I rather like the whole experience. The insufferable nature of things begins with the small-minded optimist, ignoring anything that doesn't fit into their perfect delusions. Google "The Monkey Sphere" right now, and educate yourself. It's biologically impossible to care about more than 150 people in your life, so stop god-damn telling me I should be worried that some Ethiopian orphan dies every 5 seconds. I don't care. I'm not an Ethiopian, so I don't see why I should care. This is the problem with Christmas. It's supposed to be a celebration of everything, the time when everybody's happy and cheery, but no. It is now more than ever that the intellectually confident (read: cynical) individuals among us are ostracised more than ever. Where's the sardonic misanthrope in the nativity scene, making scathing remarks at baby Jesus' expense? No, this is a holiday born on feelings of exclusion. I say we must rally together, under one banner! Let the bitter people out there stand up, and bellow from the highest mountain ranges "I don't care about you or your un-evolved, monkey-like companions, so stop trying to force me to!"