*clears throat, bangs staff on ground* … right then. HARK, YE CHEERFUL CHAOTIC SPOILS OF THE SEASON — THE YULETIDE HAS DESCENDED UPON US LIKE A DRUNKEN CARNIVAL OF GINGERBREAD AND REGRET! MERRY CHRISTMAS, YE BLOODY, BLOOMING, BAKED-TO-DEATH MORTALS! LET THE FEAST BE FEROCIOUS, THE CHEER BE FORCED, AND THE TALLOW CANDLE THAT SMELLS LIKE REGRET BURN BRIGHTLY IN THE CORNER! (And if the goose starts squawking again, *I* am not responsible.)