Advent
written by: Ben Daggers
The advent calendar started out innocent enough. The first week made small demands: a paper cut on day one; a few drops of lemon juice into the wound on day two; a cigarette burn on day five. Unsure of the best way to give himself a day eight black eye, Jonas raided his toolbox for inspiration. A small rubber mallet proved perfect for the job, as a few heavy taps on his orbital bone left him with just enough swelling to make it to the following day.
By day fourteen, the bespectacled, rosy-cheeked Santa Claus on the face of the calendar was so streaked with blood that his signature white beard was now deep, mottled red. Jonas pinched the perforated cardboard window between middle and ring fingers, the last two remaining digits on his right hand. In place of a typed message, the space behind the window just contained a line drawing of a foot. Jonas leaned in closer, double-checking which side the big toe was so he didn’t sever the wrong one.
Day twenty proved challenging. With the teeth of his hacksaw jammed up with dried blood and gristle, he was forced to drag himself to the hardware store for something a little more up to the task. He was too late; all the premium power tools had already been snapped up, and even the shelves of off-brand miter saws and angle grinders were empty. Jonas grabbed the last mid-range jigsaw, prompting angry tutting from an older gentleman who was little more than a collection of badly-sutured stumps.
By day twenty-four, Jonas had no choice but to rip open the final window with his teeth. A small, transparent capsule was nested in the cavity, backed by a glitter-glued “MERRY CHRISTMAS!” message. He sucked the capsule out, wincing as he forced it down his dry throat with hard gulps.
A moment later, acrid, white foam filled his mouth, spilling out the sides of his wide grin as he hit the floor. Yuletide was finally upon him.
