They say nothing brings people together like the holidays. Stress and strife just melt away in the sounds of a crackling fire, the sweet smell of a baking turkey, and the warm glow of a pine tree covered in twinkling lights and surrounded by a pile of shiny packages. It’s a bit harder, however, when you have fifteen people spending the holidays in the same house. Whole families aren’t meant to be in such close proximity for more than a day. A mildly annoying habit is amplified one-thousand-fold in a matter of minutes. Something expensive gets broken. Close relationships are…
Author: Trey Wydysh
Trey Wydysh
A proud holder of two journalism degrees, Trey spends his days at a corporate desk job, his dreams of writing for Blender magazine fading into oblivion. To keep his skills from withering, Trey writes about podcasts, books and television for TheGeekiverse.com and holds prolonged conversations with his pitbull, which he is certain the dog finds hilarious, despite his wife's protests to the contrary.
Gerald Human was in the back office of his jelly store when he heard the bell ring. A blood-curdling hiss pierced the air one second later. “Shit,” he muttered. Gerald hopped out of his chair and sprinted into his showroom. He stopped at the register when he saw the customer pawing at the jars on his shelves. “May I help you, sir?” he asked. The customer turned its head toward the shopkeeper, revealing an empty left eye socket and a decaying mouth full of rotted teeth. “Ughnnhhhhhhh,” it grunted, spastically gesturing with one arm at the jar of blueberry jelly…
When I was younger, there was nothing I loved more than a good prank. Filling a neighbor’s gas tank with bubble bath, or their redwood pool with pig slop always gave me the jollies. I suppose many of you would call that childish, but in my heyday, everyone I knew loved it. “You got me again, Gerald!” they’d all yell, covered in whipped cream, running from a swarm of wasps, smiles of joy on their faces. People knew how to have fun then. Everyone is too sensitive, too guarded, now. Rigging a tripwire to a buddy’s doggy door to set…
Have you ever seen one of Santa’s elves? Like a real elf. Not the stout, cherubic imps with those perfect dots of rose on their cheeks. That’s storybook stuff. Santa’s actual elves are unsettling. Barely two feet tall, saggy jowls, crooked hands, patches of hair along the ridges of their ears. Think of Dobby from those Harry Potter movies, and then age him 200 years. It’s not pretty. A preface: I have always been very spoiled at Christmas. Take a peek at my family’s holiday albums and you’ll find countless photographs of me buried in a trash heap of wrapping…