4th day of Christmas: Factory
By Sir Wintrust - Published 2019-12-16
We walked around the exterior of the building until we found a small wooden door. We set up a battering ram and began to take down the door. Four hits later, the door was destroyed.
We went in with flashlights and quickly swept the area. The area was one large open room with several barrels and small benches. The ground was covered in hay and frozen manure, neither showed signs of being disturbed in a long while. There were several stalls which, if I had to use a random measurement, would fit about one horse each. There were no obvious signs of elves, presents or santa himself,but we were wise to his tricks. We could see the invisible signs of how the system worked. A large conveyor would have been in the center, taking out the presents, and in each stall a team of 4-5 elves would constantly produce presents all year. It was clear that this was the place and Santa simply wanted us to believe that this was not his workshop, so we picked up our hatchets. We chopped and chopped, sliced and diced. We cut up the walls and tore the place to shreds. There were giant holes in the walls made by our destruction. We strapped our backup supply of explosives to the building supports and blew the foundation out. There was nothing left but rubble. Where was santa’s throne? Where were the logistics team? Where were the reindeer stables(Where reindeer play reindeer games)? We grabbed our shovels and began to dig; His secrets had to lie underground. The question was not “Is there a factory under the building” it was “is it close enough to the surface for us to dig to it”.
One foot, Two foot, three foot four. Five graves deep we planned to dig, until we realised that that would be 30ft deep, and it took us 8 hours to dig the first five feet. We tried to dig straight down, but the inherent danger turned us away from that plan. We then tried to simply dig several holes, then combine them together, but each hole would get snowed in before they could be connected. We tried digging one big hole, where every other person stopped the snow from building up and stopped the dirt from falling in. We dug deep enough that none of us could get out. We dug with the knowledge that Santa’s abode had to be below us, but the ground quickly turned to hard rock, and we started to use our backup-backup explosives to continue digging. Running slightly low on food and incredibly low on explosives, we tried to leave and return to civilisation, but we were trapped by our hubris. We dug too deep and could not escape our pit that, if we could not find some way to leave, would become our grave. We wasted away for such a long time. Seconds passed into minutes. Minutes passed into slightly more minutes.
After an agonising five minutes of waiting, a plan was hatched. We will all work together to lift one person out of our dirt-prison. They will bring everyone else out of the hole. The plan was hevily-fool resistant, as long as noone is stupid. We pushed and pushed until one of our interns made it to freedom. He grabbed a ladder out of our supply kit, and used it as a counterweight, allowing him to pull everyone else to freedom. If we wanted to dig to the lair of Christmas, we would need a bigger digger.
We, for a variety of very legal reasons, had acquired 2 30ft drills and had brought them with us in a knapsack. We set them up on the antarctic dirt and turned them on. Powered by a giant hamster wheel, our unholy drilling machine began its operation. Several technical failures later, we had drilled ourselves into a hole once again, but we had made it deep underground. There was, once again, no signs of an expanded laboratory. The only logical conclusion is that he made his snow-coated layer at the center of the earth, and thus, none of our drills could ever reach it. There goes one plan. We blew the rest of our explosives to bury our machines before leaving the site for good, and we tried to meet up with the rest of our group. We sent signal flares, which only worked to attract our next meal Three adult polar bears(For future note: Polar bears are not rocket proof). We decided to make camp and wait for the rest of our group to find us. We shared stories of blood and gore, of violence brought against mythical creatures. We made battle plans, and joked as work friends and colleagues. We could rest and chat, without any stress or worries. The quiet howling of the wind and the cold chill on our fingers were the backdrop to our contentment. Staring up at the speckled sky and the winding patches of white snow, our stories lit by the light of the bonfire and the stars above, we learned what killing christmas is all about. We found our missing friends right where we left them and we decided our next move. Our small tent camp was aflutter with new ideas and innovations on killing christmas incarnate. We sharpeded our blades and requisitioned more supplies.
