Have a Staaly Jolly Christmas CONCLUSION

staal sod farm

Chapter one

Chatper two  

ERIC: Hey, does anyone remember Mrs. Guildman?

JORDAN: Yeah, she hated my guts.

JARED: Mine too.

MARC: She thought I was OK.

ERIC: If she’s still around, we should totally say hi. Yanno, for the Christmas spirit and whatever.

MAMA STAAL: but one of you needs to stay and help me and your dad carve up this donkey.

ERIC: There’s only one fair way to decide.  ONE. TWO. THREE. NOT IT!

JORAD: NOT IT!

MARC: NOT IT!

Jared: Not—DAMMIT.

JORDAN: Sucker! Looks like you’re tying some bungholes tonight!

(MARC, JORDAN, and ERIC load into a car and are at a spooky looking house on a hill.  They ring the doorbell.)

ERIC: Hellllooooo? Mrs. Guildman?

JORDAN: I want to say sorry  for that time I gave you a milk and raw chicken stink bomb.

MARC: You inspired me to be better at hockey, because I could never get addition right!

JORDAN:  I’m also sorry for that time II loaded you car full of cow shit.  That was not cool.

MYSTERIOUS FIGURE: You don’t have to worry.  Mrs. Guildman isn’t here anymore.

MARC:  Who the hell are you?

ERIC: Are you a ghost?

JORDAN: It’s a burglar! He’s gonna burgle Mrs. Guildman! Everyone duck! (JORDAN takes out a pistol he has hidden on his person and fires several rounds.)

ERIC:  WHERE DID YOU GET A GUN?

JORDAN:  It was a gift from Geno Malkin.  Some special Russian Mafia thing.

MYSTERIOUS FIGURE: DAMMIT! And I was just off IR again!

JORDAN: Wait….I remember that voice….

COLBY ARMSTRONG: it’s me—Colby Armstong!

MARC: Wait—you play with the Leafs. What are you doing here?

ARMSTRONG: Sometimes I sublet Mrs. Guildman’s place while she’s in Florida.  There are time during the season I need some peace and quiet.

ERIC: Wait a second…if Jordan shot you in the face, how are you still talking?

JORDAN: I know him.  His gigantic nose stopped the bullet for him.

ARMSTRONG: Screw you guys, my nose is fine!  I mean, I’m bleeding a little, but whatever.

MARC: IT’S A CHRISTMAS MIRACLE!

ERIC: What, that Jordan shot something and hit it?

JORDAN: Screw you guys. Hey Army, wanna head back to my mom’s for donk—I mean, uh, venison and Christmas dinner?

ARMSTRONG: Oh, heck yes.

MARC: God bless us, everyone!

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