Ah, Christmas. But not of the Cave variety. *hic*

Of course, what I do every December is fly off to a mysterious, secret location and not come back until everyone on Pluto has died.

They're tricky buggers on Pluto, see. Sapient bacteria-people who are disinfected by the Galactic Super-League every Winter but there's always that 1% who survive the 'For whom the bell Dettols' (that's a fact) and come back in full force by the next...well, year for us, but for them the cleansing seems to come at peculiar time intervals.


So, uh...why is my Christmas holidaying controlled by the genocide of some single-celled beings? Wouldn't you like to know.