FUTURE carcinoGeneticist [FCG] 4 HOURS FROM NOW edited this post.

SO THIS IS WHAT YOU WERE FUCKING DRAWING ON MY COMPUTER.  YOU ASSHOLE.

HOWEVER, LET’S NOT WRITE OFF YOU BEING KIND OF A BULGESUCK AT THIS AS WELL, BUT I’LL GIVE YOU THE CONSIDERABLE BENEFIT OF THE DOUBT FOR ACTUALLY ASKING ABOUT THIS FIRST.  IF YOU ARE A BULGESUCK, IT IS INDEPENDENT OF THIS CURRENT SITUATION.  CONGRATULATIONS, I GUESS.  YOU’RE SIGNIFICANTLY LESS SHITTY AT LIFE.

ANYWAY, YOU SAID HE IS PLAYING A GAME FOR A LONG TIME, RIGHT?

YOU’RE USING THE HUMAN TERM “BOYFRIEND” SO I WILL ASSUME THAT YOU ARE FROM EARTH OR WHATEVER, OR ANOTHER INFERIOR CULTURE.  

DID HE HAPPEN TO GET SOMETHING THAT LOOKS A LITTLE BIT LIKE THIS:

IF SO, DON’T EXPECT TO HEAR SHIT FROM HIM FOR AWHILE.  IN FACT, BY VIRTUE OF YOU NOT BEING IN ON THIS GAME PROBABLY DOESN’T MATTER MUCH SINCE YOU’RE JUST CAUGHT IN THE MIDDLE OF A PRETTY FUCKING SLOW RECKONING HAPPENING ON YOUR PRETTY MUCH FUCKED PLANET.  IN THIS CASE, SORRY AND KISS YOUR ASS GOOD BYE.

IN THE EVENT HE IS JUST BEING A TOTAL NUB-GARGGLING BARFPUPPET TOWARD YOU AND IS IGNORING YOUR NEEDS, YOU MIGHT NEED SOME HELP BY MEANS OF A MEDIARY.

YOU KNOW, CALL UP HIS MOIRAIL (ASSUMING HE HAS NOT FUCKED UP ENTIRELY IN THAT QUADRANT) AND TELL HIM TO GET GROPING HIS SHAME GLOBES SINCE IT HIS JOB TO MAKE SURE THAT YOUR MATESPRIT IS NOT DOING SOMETHING STUPID LIKE FORGETTING TO EAT.  SEE, THIS IS WHY THE PALE QUADRANTS ARE FUCKING IMPORTANT: BALANCE.

IF IT GETS TOUGH, IT’S TIME FOR AN ACTUAL FUCKING INTERVENTION, LIKE SO.

THIS IS STILL PRETTY AMAZING, BUT YOU ALL HAVE SO MUCH TO FUCKING LEARN.

AS YOU CAN SEE, I SURVIVED THE ENCOUNTER WITH SANTA, AND MY LEADING SKILLS SUCCESSFULLY ASSURED THAT NO ONE DIED UNDER MY WATCH IN THE EGBERT HOUSEHOLD.  YOU WOULD NOT BELIEVE HOW HARD OF A TASK THAT IS WHEN THERE ARE ALMOST TWENTY ASSHOLES WHO ARE FUCKING HELLBENT ON TRYING TO HAVE THEIR ASSES PRESENTED TO A MONSTROUS SPACE CREATURE WHO DESCENDS JUST TO FEAST UPON THEIR BONES LIKE A PACK OF GLOBE-RUBBING FRESHLY HATCHED PROTO-WIGGLERS.  

I GOT PRESENTS, EVEN ONE OF THE NUGGETS FROM THE EXCREMENT OF THIS RED-CLAD SHITSTAIN BEAST WAS FOR ME.  I GOT THE EARTH INTERPRETATION OF THRESH PRINCE SEASON ONE, IF YOU ARE CURIOUS.  I ALSO GOT SOME OTHER THINGS.  SINCE I KNOW YOU GRUBFUCKING IDIOTS ARE ALWAYS PRYING, MY MATESPRIT AND I GAVE EACH OTHER SHUT THE FUCK UP AND DON’T ASK ABOUT MY QUADRANTS, BULGEWHIFF.

MERRY FUCKING CHRISTMAS.

WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT.

THAT IS THE MOST DISGUSTING PRACTICE MY HEAR DUCTS HAVE EVER FUCKING BEEN GRACED WITH.  CONGRATULATIONS, I’M BARELY REFRAINING FROM EVACUATING THE COPIOUS AMOUNT OF BAKED GOODS IN MY FEED SACK INTO A FOUNTAIN OF EQUALLY REVOLTING VOMIT AND SPUTUM.

GODSPEED ON SURVIVING THE NIGHT.  I HAVE GAMZEE HERE AND I AM MAKING SURE THAT NOTHING COMES TO FANGORIOUSLY DEVOUR US IN A FEW HOURS.  ASSUMING THAT EGBERT AND THE OTHERS HAVE NOT BOTCHED THE PREPARATIONS, WE SHOULD BE READY FOR THIS ENGORGED, BLUBBERY ASSHOLE TO FUCKING COME TO OUR HOUSE TO GET HIS BLOATED, PRESENT-STUFFED FEED SACK SQUEEZED INTO OBLIVION.

I’M READY FOR YOU, SANTA CLAUS.

IF WE DO NOT MAKE IT, IT’S ALL FUCKING JOHN’S FAULT.  AND PROBABLY TEREZI’S SINCE SHE CANNOT STOP FUCKING LICKING ALL OF THE SOCK SHIELDS.  AND TAVROS AND SOLLUX’S AND ANYONE ELSE HERE.  ANYWAY, IF I DON’T MAKE IT, I’M DEEPLY SORRY FOR YOUR INQUIRIES GOING UNANSWERED AND YOUR LIKELY FAILURE IN EVERY QUADRANT.

MERRY FUCKING CHRISTMAS AND DON’T FUCKING DIE.

NOW THAT WE HAVE MOISTINED YOUR WHISTLE ORIFACES WITH THE HINTS OF KNOWLEDGE TO COME, IT IS TIME TO PROPERLY EXPLAIN THIS MIND-BOGGLING AND CONVOLUTED HUMAN TRADITION OF CHRISTMAS AS I KNOW IT.

JOHN HAS INFORMED ME OF THIS TRADITION OF STRANGE HUMAN PRACTICES AND THEIR CULTURAL RELEVANCE.  I’M PRETTY SICK OF IT TAUNTING ME EVERYWHERE, BUT WE ARE NOT DISCUSSING HOW WE HAVE HAD TO DEAL WITH PULLING BLIND GIRLS OFF OF FESTIVE DISPLAYS OF ENGOURGED MANLUSII AND THEIR HOOFBEAST COMPANIONS.  ANYWAY, LET US START WITH THE STORY OF CHRISTMAS.

ALMOST A THOUSAND SWEEPS AGO, THERE WAS AN ANGRY ENTITY BIRTHED IN A DISTANT ORBIT FROM YOUR PLANET’S SUN NAMED “SANTA CLAUS.”  IN BLUBBEROUS FURY AND VITROL, HE DECIDED THAT THE BEST MEANS OF FURTHERING HIS EXISTENCE WAS TO DEVOUR THE EARTH CHILDREN WHILE SHITTING OUT COPIOUS AMOUNTS OF ELVEN MINIONS.  THESE LONG-EARED CONSORTS CRAFT VARIOUS THINGS IN ORDER TO SATE THEIR MUSTACHIOED OVERLORD’S ENDLESS FUCKING FEED SACK MOST OF THE DAYS OF YOUR EARTH YEAR.  

HOWEVER, EVEN THESE LITTLE ASSHOLES LAPSE IN THEIR TOYCRAFT WORSHIP FOR THEIR EVER-HUNGERING MASTER.  NOT THAT THEY GIVE A FLYING FUCK.  IN ACTUALITY, I SUSPECT THAT THEY PREPARE FOR THIS MOMENT WHEN THEIR FROZEN SNOTNUGGET OF A PLANET IS CLOSEST TO EARTH.  IT IS THEN THAT SANTA CLAUS IS RAVENOUS FOR THE FLESH OF THE EARTH FRESHLY HATCHED.  HE DESCENDS WITH HIS OWN FLEET OF MINIONS, STORMING ALL THE HIVES ON EARTH IN HIS GLUTTONOUS STUPOR.  

FORTUNATELY FOR YOU AND YOUR INFERIOR KIND, THERE WAS ONE MAN WHO DARED TO STAND UP TO SANTA CLAUS SINCE SOME FAT, INTERGALACTIC FUCK CONSUMING CHILDREN IS COUNTERPRODUCTIVE TO YOUR SPECIES DEVELOPMENT.

JOHN INFORMS ME THAT THIS MAN IS CAMERON POE, BETTER KNOWN AS SAINT NICOLAS AND SOMETIMES AS CAGE KRINGLE.  HE DECIDED TO ATTRACT THE RED BEAST WITH THE SCENT OF HIS PREY BY NAILING THEIR SOCKS AND SHOES TO FIREPLACES.  HOWEVER, THE SOCK RUSE IS A DISTRACTION.  AS SANTA DESCENDS TO GORGE HIMSELF ON CHILDREN, SAINT NICOLAS DISCOVERED THAT HE WAS ATTRACTED TO SPARKLING BAUBLES, GLOWING LIGHTS AND OTHER SHINY SHIT, NOT UNLIKE A SOPOR-STUFFED CLOWNISH ASSHOLE I KNOW.  AS SANTA CLAUS IS DISTRACTED BY THE GARISH, FLASHING EMBELISHMENTS, HE IS LURED INTO THE TREE ALL THIS SHIT IS HUNG ON—CLOSE ENOUGH TO THE BANE OF HIS EXISTENCE:  

THE NAUSIATING COMBINATION OF EVERGREEN, BAKED GOODS, AND MAMMARY LEAKAGE OF MOOBEASTS.  

SERIOUSLY, THAT SHIT APPARENTLY MAKES SANTA CLAUS LOSE IT ENTIRELY.  SO MUCH SO THAT HE STARTS SHITTING AND PUKING THE TOYS HIS MINDLESS ELF DRONES FED HIM WITH THROUGHOUT THE YEAR.  THE FORCE EXACTED BY THIS SIMULTANIOUS PROJECTILE EVACUATION OF HIS ORIFACES ROCKETS HIM OUT OF THE HOUSE THE WAY HE CAME.

THAT IS THE STORY OF CHRISTMAS.

NOW, HOW IN THE FUCK DO YOU DEAL WITH THIS IMPORTANT EVENT SO THAT YOU OR YOUR QUADRANT HOPEFULS ARE NOT FANGORIOUSLY DEVOURED BY A GLUTTED SPACE DEMON BIRTHED FROM THE ANUS OF A DEMENTED OUTER GOD?

FOR YOUR MATESPRIT AND YOUR MOIRAIL, IT IS BEST TO INVITE THEM OVER TO YOUR HIVE FOR THIS NIGHT.  MAKE IT A HUGE FUCKING GET TOGETHER, SO LONG AS YOUR MATESPRIT ISN’T CALIGINOUSLY INCLINED TO YOUR MOIRAIL, OR YOU THEIRS.  IF THAT IS THE CASE, JUST MAKE SURE YOUR RIVALRY IS PUT TO GOOD USE.  USE THIS CHANCE TO DECORATE YOUR EYE-SEARING TREE TRAP TOGETHER.  MAKE IT A COMPETITION TO SEE WHICH OF YOU CAN MAKE THE WORST TREE DECORATIONS IF YOU ARE TRAPPED WITH YOUR KISMESIS WHO HAPPENS TO BE YOUR MATESPRIT’S MOIRAIL.  MY ONLY RECOMMENDATION IS THAT YOU DO NOT GO OVERBOARD WITH YOUR TREE TRAPS.  ONLY THE SIGHT OF A TREE AND THE COMBINATION OF FOOD ARE NEEDED TO DRIVE AWAY SANTA CLAUS, JOHN TELLS ME.  

DO NOT

I REPEAT

DO NOT

RIG YOUR TREE TO FUCKING EXPLODE.  YOUR HIVE WILL BE A SMOLDERING STAIN IN A FROZEN YARDRING AND ANY PRESENTS YOU MIGHT HAVE COLLECTED (THOUGH WHY THE HELL YOU HUMANS PRIZE THE DROPPINGS OF A MONSTER IS BEYOND ME) WILL BE INCINERATED.

IF YOU ARE LONELY AND ONLY HAVE A KISMESIS, THERE’S STILL SHIT YOU CAN DO ON THIS NIGHT.  AND THAT IS TO STEAL THE PRIZES LEFT BY SANTA CLAUS AT THEIR HOUSE.  OF COURSE, YOU HAVE TO BE FUCKING CAUTIOUS ABOUT THIS, ESPECIALLY TRAVELING UNPROTECTED AS THE DEMON MAKES HIS CIRCUIT AROUND THE PLANET.  

THIS IS THE BEST WAY TO ENJOY CHRISTMAS, BASED ON THE INFORMATION JOHN HAS GIVEN ME.

MERRY FUCKING CHRISTMAS, ASSHOLES, AND DON’T DIE.

I WON’T GO INTO THE SPECIFICS OF CHRISTMAS IN THIS POST (THAT IS IN THE NEXT ONE, SO PLEASE FUCKING CALM YOUR VESTIGIAL CHEST SACKS AND WAIT WITH IN IS NO DOUBT BATED BREATH FOR THIS), BUT I THINK YOU SHOULD KNOW THAT THIS IS PROBABLY A COMMON EARTH PROBLEM THIS TIME OF YEAR.

YOUR FRIENDS ARE ASSHOLES FOR NOT GIVING THIS GUY A CHANCE, HOWEVER, YOU SHOULDN’T PUT UP WITH SOME STEROID-DRUNK ASSHOLE WHO JUST WANTS TO SHIT IN EVERYONE’S RECUPERACOONS LIKE A SLOVENLY, BRAIN-DAMAGED CARBUNCKLE ON HUMANITY.

FROM WHAT I UNDERSTAND FROM JOHN, CHRISTMAS IS ABOUT SURVIVAL.  YOU’RE FACED WITH THE DANGERS OF AN ONSLAUGHT OF SPECIES-DEVOURING PROPORTIONS, AND HIDING TOGETHER AS A DEFENSE SEEMS TO BE THE HUMAN APPROACH TO THIS.

WITH YOUR YULE AEGIS IN PLACE DURING THIS WINTER BALL, I THINK IT IS BEST TO ASK FOR YOUR MATESPRIT-HOPEFUL’S HAND TO ATTEND.  IF HE IS NOT HARBORING FLUSHED FEELINGS FOR YOU NOW, HE WILL WHEN HE KNOWS YOU ARE LOOKING OUT FOR HIS SAFETY.  YOUR FRIENDS ARE WORKING AGAINST SURVIVAL OF YOUR WEAK SPECIES, AFTER ALL.  IF HE TURNS YOU DOWN, HE’S DAMNED HIMSELF TO SPENDING A SLEEPLESS NIGHT, WAITING FOR ALMOST CERTAIN DEATH.

YOU’RE WELCOME.

OH MY GOD, DID YOU READ WHAT I JUST POSTED?  WHAT IS WITH YOU HUMANS AND YOUR FIXATION WITH THIS REVOLTING DEPOSIT OF WASTE.

FINE, ROLL IN IT.  SHOWER WITH IT.  TIE IT ON A FUCKING STRING AND HANG IT UNDER THE DOORWAY TO MINDLESSLY FLAIL UNDER IN A CRAZED STUPOR FOR ALL I FUCKING CARE.

THIS IS DISGUSTING.

DON’T THINK THAT I DON’T REMEMBER YOU.  FIRST OF ALL, WE ARE NOT HERE TO DISCUSS WHAT MY REACTIONS WOULD BE TO YOU WITH YOUR UNDOUBTEDLY HIDEOUS VISAGE UNDER ONE OF THESE EARTH PLANTS.

THESE HORNBEAST LEAVINGS DEPOSITED ON TREES ARE NO WAY SOMETHING ANYONE WOULD WANT TO BE CAUGHT UNDER, SAYS THE APPARENT CHRISTMAS AUTHORITY HERE WITH ME.  

WHY THE FUCK WOULD I BE CAUGHT UNDER ONE OF THESE.

WHY WOULD ANYONE WANT TO BE HANGING UNDER A WASTE DEPOSIT OF SOME INTERGALACTIC GLUTTON’S BEASTS OF BURDEN.

I’M NOT BEING FUCKING PRANKED AGAIN.

NICE TRY ASSHOLE.