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Timothy’s Christmas Adventure: It’s A Wonderful GPA

“AHHHHHHHHHH!” Tim howled as the plane scraped the snow and charged forward into the candy factory. I watch in horror as dozens of elves scattered everywhere, running for their lives. An alarm went off and a brigade of raincoat-clad elves rushed to the scene.

Barry held on to me, Jess and Mike howled. With one terrific *CRASH* we slammed into the front door, the nose of the plane driving through into a marshmallow machine. Marshmallow ooze flowed over the windshield, covering the controls with goo.

“Ohhhhh....” Timothy moaned, holding his head. He turned around, looking us over. “Are ye alright? Everybody all right?”

“Yes...” Mike grinned. “We’re just delicious,” he said, licking some marshmallow off the cuff of his coat.

Jess hit him in the side.. Dave dipped his hand in the ooze and had a taste. Barry groaned.

“Another fantastic landing by our talented pilot...”

“Oh, shut yer hole,” Tim cursed, trying to climb out. The fire-brigade of Santa’s helpers rushed to our aide with candy striped fire extinguishers. They sprayed a peculiar mist over the marshmallow ooze and it’s stickiness began to subside.

“It was those lights...and the snow! I couldn’t see a bleeding thing!” Tim explained.

“Maybe you ought to get your eyes checked,” I suggested.

“Or your head examined,” Mike growled.

Barry helped Jess and I up and some elves came to our aide and helped us get down to the ground. We were quite shaken up by the crash.

“Tim, are you okay?” I asked him. He was leaning up against an oversized candy cane.

“Aye..just can’t believe what I did to me plane. Oh, it’s just terrible..she’s a damaged wreck!”

There was quite a commotion in the candy workshop, and the buzz of alarms, bells and people rushing around was like a great machine. A miniature ambulance rushed down to the scene.

“We’re alright!,” Tim assured the elves. They ignored him. “Has everyone gone completely mad?” Barry exclaimed, looking around. The candy shop was a mammoth gingerbread house. It was ornamented with candy canes, peppermints, gum drops, gummy bears with exhausting detail. The roof was surprisingly high, and above we could see more elves on the move. A magnificent tree glittered and shined on a raised platform in the center of the ivy covered balcony. Lights shone brilliant colors, a rainbowed blur from below.

“Bloody hell...” Barry grunted, observing the cheery spectacular. A female elf scurried over to us. She was dressed in a yellow and green striped outfit with a little red hat. She stood smaller than Dave, and looked up at us with flashing green eyes. Her face was covered with glitter, and marshmallow goo was caked on the bottoms of her striped overalls.

“Would you mind answering some questions?” Tim gaped at her, and exchanged puzzled glances with Barry. I noticed her hat had a little tag that read “PRESS”. She was an elf reporter!

“Look, ye see this plane here? We just crashed ye know...”

“I am aware of that,” she snapped. I couldn’t tell how old she was...she looked no more than four or five..if she’d been human...

“This is breaking news, and I’m covering to get the story first” she said, grinning at us.

“Really!” Jess huffed.

“Well, my name is Mike, Evil Lord,” Mike grinned. “I’ll answer your you want me to spell my name?”

“Are you aware that you have severely injured one of our crew?”

“WHAT???!” Tim nearly fell over. “WHO, WHAT???”

“I will repeat the question...are you awa...”


“It’s Rudolph!,” someone screamed. The elves were recovering an unrecognizable lump from the marshmallow goo. Tim ran over to the ambulance. “Ohhhh!!!” he wailed. The elf doctor was already on work at the fallen reindeer. We could see Rudolph’s little red nose dimly lit. It blinked a few times before fading all together. There was a collective gasp of horror as loud as a crowd in a football stadium.

Tim sat on a cup-cake shaped chair and began to sob. “Oohhhh!!!! I’ve ruined Christmas!!!!”

Jess and I went to him for support. The female elf followed.

“I am taking you to see the boss....”

Tim shuddered. “Oh, I can’t face him!”

“It’s not your fault, Tim,” I said putting my arm around him. Jess and I helped him up. Barry shook is head and glared at the Evil Lord.

Dave appeared again. “It’s Rudolph, Tim! He was attending the machine when we crashed through...the Doc says he’ll make it, but they’re afraid he won’t be able to make the Christmas Eve run!”

Tim sighed. “Oh, I never meant for this to happen...” **********************************************************************************************

Fifteen minutes later we were being led through a maze of winding ivy walls to a small office across the snow covered Commons. We were a solemn bunch. Even the Evil Lord was without a sarcastic remark. Barry was on best behavior.

“Wait here,” the girl told us. She placed her clipboard down on a candy cane bench and disappeared through a red door. Jingle bells sounded as it shut tight. Tim sighed.

A moment later, a white-haired old man, dressed in velvet red pants and a Budweiser T-shirt emerged from the door. Adjusting his spectacles, he raised an eyebrow at Timothy. Tim hung his head down and stared down at the floor at his green-booted feet.

“You’re a little tall for this sort of work, aren’t you, son?”

Tim gaped up at him. “Santa?”

“Oh, ho ho ho...” he chuckled. “’re the boy who’s crashed his plane into my workshop...”

Tim looked to us helplessly. Mike shrugged.

“I didn’t mean to,’s just that the runway lights were”

“Multi-colored...” Mike finished, nodding at Tim. He stepped forward, his hands behind his back.

“You see, Mr. Claus, if that indeed is you, eh hemmm!,” he cleared his throat, pacing back and forth.

I noticed Santa’s pointed ears.... He crossed his arms and glared at Mike impatiently. Jess raised her eyebrows and turned to me. Barry sighed, covering his eyes with his hands.

“The way I see it, is WE should hold YOU liable for the damage done to Timothy’s plane...insufficient lighting on the only airport in this area, irresponsibly placed goo machines close to a main entrance....”

Santa grew furious. “MICHAEL!!!” he howled.

We all shook in our boots, terrified of the merry old elf...

“Michael, do you know why you’ve always gotten coal in your stocking, year after year?”

Mike puzzled, looking to Jess for help. “Because the elves didn’t have nuclear technology?”

Santa shook his head. “YOU WERE A NAUGHTY, BAD, EVIL, LITTLE CHILD!”

Mike was choked up, and wiped a tear from his eye. “You don’t know how much that means to me...”

Jess stepped forward. “In his defense, he’s not a law student...”

“SILENCE!!” Santa groaned. “Jessica, I never expected you’d get involved with this sort. All those years bringing you all those soap opera digests...”

“Oh, thank you Santa,” she beamed.

“Timothy,” Santa began seriously, “the elves are seeing about fixing your plane. They’re taking it to the workshop this minute..oh!” he stopped, smiling at his watch suddenly. “The Mrs. should have some hot cocoa on.. would you please join me?”

Tim was so surprised, he was at a loss of words.

“Yes, that would be wonderful!” I exclaimed, dragging Barry with me. Santa led us into his office and through another door leading into a cabin-like house. It was lit with beautiful candles, the heavenly aroma of every kind of cookie and sweet imaginable. Tim smiled, looking around.

“Thank you so much, Santa,” he said, taking something from his pocket. “I was wondering if the elves could have a look at this...” he asked, handing him a marshmallow covered computer disk.

“Ohhh....” Jess gasped. It was awful. His paper he had been working on for three months was on that disk and now it seemed hopelessly lost. Tim bit his lip, watching as Santa looked it over. Yet, as hopeless as the situation seemed, Tim remained calm and collected.

“The elves really haven’t grasped computer technology just yet, but I’ve hired a bright young man that I’ve place in charge of our main lab. We’re expanding the workshop...have to compete with Microsoft.”

Mike scowled. “Bill Gates is a friend of mine...”

“What’s yer electricity bill like?,” Barry asked as we were led through yet another winding hallway covered with Christmas lights.

As we came to the end of the hallway, there was a large, plain, white door with a sign reading simply, “COMPUTER LAB”. Santa turned the handle and we were hit with a blast of warm air. The loud sound of fans and beeping computer sounds was deafening. It was a large room, lit with blinding fluorescent lights. Looking up, we could see a large control room with a glass front. Santa started up a flight of white metal stairs like a fire escape. They were connected to a platform that encircled the entire lab.

“Woa...” Barry said admiring the high view.

“Someone could fall and break their neck from this height...” Mike observed.

“Do ye have to be so morbid, lad?” Tim grumbled.

“Right through those doors,” Santa instructed us. Jess skipped ahead of us.


“You’ll have to forgive her, Nick, “ Mike explained, nudging Santa in the side. “She’s been inhaling a lot of fake snow spray...”

Timothy, Barry and I followed Jess into the control room and swung open the door. There was a boy sitting in a high stool, engrossed in a game of Tomb Raider, and bopping to Mick Jagger through a pair of festive green headphones. He slurped a can of root beer through a swirly straw.


“May I introduce Daniel, Beagle Scout, Computer Genius....” Santa raved. Dan whirled around, dropping his root beer on the floor.



“I take it you are all acquainted?”

“Aquatinted!?” I scoffed. “When you said you were working in the computer lab, I didn’t realize it was at the NORTH POLE!!!”

Dan took his head phones off. “Well, it’s good root beer!”

I noticed he was wearing those pointed jingle shoes....


“Daniel, ye think ye could have a look at this for me?” Tim asked, showing Dan the disk. Dan laughed.

“Are you kidding me? It’s covered with goo!”

“I know, but me whole paper is caught up in that’s due tomorrow, Daniel...” he fretted. “I don’t know what I’ll do...and ZILCH!,” he gasped, shuddering. “He’ll string me up, he will...”

Dan sighed, taking the disk from him. “I’ll see what I can do.” We watched silently as Dan placed the disk in a rainbowed contraption resembling a microwave. Odd enough, the controls read “frozen entree” but we didn’t ask any questions. Tim watched the disk in the machine with wide eyes. Jess and I went to him, seeing how upset he was.

“Tim, can’t you ask for an extension? Dr. Zilch will understand, I’m sure....” Jess said soothingly.

“Yes, Tim, and you’re never late with a’s just this one time, I’m sure he’ll forgive you!”

Tim managed a weak smile. “Well, maybe yer right, girls. Maybe it’s not as bad as it seems...”

“AHH!” Dan howled suddenly. The disk had caught on fire and the machine began beeping and humming loudly. He quickly grabbed an extinguisher from the wall and leaped up, kicking open the door with one great karate chop, spraying the inside of the machine wildly.

“HI YAAH!!! HI YAHHHHHHHH!!!” he continued, stomping now on the ill- fated disk. Tim turned white as a sheet and stumbled back into the wall.

“Bloody hell...”

“I think it’s dead, Lad,” Barry said sternly, grabbing the extinguisher from Dan.

We all ringed around the melted disk in silent horror.

“Can’t you just type it over?” Mike suggested. Jess elbowed him in the ribs.

Tim’s face was twisted in a grimaced scream. Santa came through the door, grinning merrily. A jovial Mrs. Claus was right behind him with a tray of steaming hot chocolate.

“Everyone ready for some hot cocoa!!???” he chuckled. Tim keeled over onto the floor at Santa’s feet.

“After Tim’s nap,” Barry explained. **********************************************************************************************

It’s been quite a day for the gang, wouldn’t you say? They’re a destructive bunch, aren’t they? Stay tuned for part three! Link is below! Submit with festive fervor! ************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************

NO part of The Timothy Story or cartoon art may be proclaimed, copied, recited, or used without the author's explicit, and I mean explicit permission. T Thank you. **********************************************************************


SUBMIT WITH FERVOR!!!(and tell a friend!)