"it is time to go" joe biden says to me in a moment of remarkable clarity. i unlatch from his teat.

"i don't think i'm ready," i say, lying as i wipe the powdered milk from my lips. i was so close to sapping all of his power. he was soon to be dead. i was so close.

"it's time for your heroes journey. sorry buddy" joe biden says, before dropping me and kicking me like a football. did he know my intentions?

the moonlight filtered through the large, dyed-pane windows of biden's cryptum before i shattered through it, tumbling out of the tallest tower to the sloping spires below. after a lengthy and dramatic fall, i create a comically-shaped indent on the slow below.

this is my christmas adventure, and it is time to kill santa claus

i grab a coca cola from the abundant piles below to provide me strength and resilience on my journey.

and so i start walking, thumb out, trying to hitch a ride. when in the distance, i hear a jingling sound... rudolph?

no. fuck. it's the polar express. god dammit. the train comes choochooing along the horizon, choochooing up a cloud of snow in its wake, shafts of moonlight filtering through the crystals and onto the wrought iron body.

i grab onto the polar express as it whizzes by. it does not slow down and it nearly rips my shoulder out of its socket, but through the power of christmas willpower, it does not.

the outside is cold and blue, but the inside is warm and golden.

"hey, i'm here too" says will ferrel. oh no, it's buddy the elf, from the hit movie elf.

"i'm buddy the elf," will ferrel explains, "from the hit movie elf." the green pleather seat is indented and thankfully there is enough space that he would not be offended if i did not sit next to him. but he's patting it anyways. jesus christ. i walk down to the following car, through the train doors.

the cabin is empty, devoid of life, but full of warmth. and so is the next one. and the next one. there are no children on their way to meet santa claus. was this train a diversion? where is the whimsical conductor?

"i guess i don't need to learn the true meaning of christmas," i sigh loudly.

i sit down on one of the dozens of identical green-and-wood seats, facing away from the front of the train. i don't know how many seats back it goes, and i can't see anything out of the window. hours go by, and i'm reminded that it's about nine months until christmas. is this how long the train ride will be? this space sure is liminal-

before i can linger on it longer, a familiar face walks in. no. nonoo. im not ready to talk to him again :(

the conversation is long and prying. i pick a name. i pick one of two genders. i pick a name for a town to move to, "the north pole". animals walk by in the distance

"i want to be in here too-" says olive the other reindeer, but too many christmas characters want to be classics. what are you even doing here?

"i'm actually kind of a trans allegory," olive explains, "that's your favorite, we can be friends, let's-"

but the cutscene ends, and i depart the train. but i don't end up departing onto a train station in a cozy animal crossing five-by-five acre town.

instead, i'm making footprints on the snow. there is no station, no infrastructure. only a castle-factory in the distance.

the sun is shining on a wide and flat expanse of white. it stretches across the horizon, broken only but a silhouette of a bump on the horizon.

to the unkeen observer, they might see this as a distant mountain, an aberance on the arctic landscape, with scant clouds supported by the microclimate such a jutting would produce.

but those are not clouds, they are reindeer transporting cargo. they are a bloodline to an economy that should not exist.

and that is not a mountain, but a sprawling town surrounding the castle-factory of santa claus, the fascist

i grab another coca cola and i set forth