Lego Advent Calendar 2019

As the Christmas season drew closer, winter gripped the land once more. As snow settled around the forest, two lone figures travelled through over the icy ground.
Elsa: Are you sure about this?
Wolf: Fear not. I am a powerful warlock, after all.
Elsa: Yes, you remind me about that almost constantly.
Wolf: Well I just need to make sure that you haven’t forgotten. It has been almost a year since we last met.
Elsa: And you’ve told me about it every three minutes for the last two hours.
Wolf: Phenomenal arcane powers!
Elsa: Right, right. Shut up.
Wolf: Ahem. To answer your question, Ferb should be somewhere in this forest.
Elsa: Are you sure? Ever since he left the city following the death of Santa Claus last year I have had no luck in tracking him down.
Wolf: I know, and we still have no idea why he vanished either!
Elsa: Do you think that’s enough exposition?
Wolf: Yeah, should be. On with this year’s adventure!


A low rumble echoes across the snowfield. A hefty vehicle grinds to a halt.
Elsa: Oh, hey Ferb.
Ferb: So, you found me…
Elsa: It’s been almost a year! Have you been out here riding this snow-plough all this time?
Ferb: Alas, no. For you see, I have dwelled out here in the hinterlands, living a life of self-imposed exile. The guilt of last Christmas haunts me – follows me like a chilling spectre!
Elsa: What, really?
Ferb: Nah, not really. Want to go for a drive?


Ferb: Wolf, old friend. How have you been?
Wolf: Witness this, mortal! I have constructed a catapult!
Ferb: That’s… nice?
Wolf: I’m going to use this to propell myself through the air! Soon I shall soar like an eagle.
Ferb: Can’t you just, like, cast a flying spell? I mean you keep saying that you’re a warlock and all that.
Wolf: I could. But I won’t. Here, press this switch to launch me.
Ferb: No.


Elsa: Wow, that quest to find Ferb was easier than I thought. Let’s head home and…
A stranger approaches.
Sinister Cultist: Greetings! Are you Elsa?
Elsa: Yes. Who are you and why are you holding a broom?
Sinister Cultist: My name is, uhh, Bob.
Elsa: Are you sure? Your name tag says ‘Sinister Cultist’.
Sinister Cultist: No, I’m definitely Bob. Don’t worry, I’m not planning to slay you and your companions in your sleep to avenge the death of my elder god, Santa Claus, who you murdered last year.
Elsa: Oh good. Say, would you like to join our party?
Wolf: Uhh, I have a bad feeling about this…


Ferb: Elsa, I’m having a bad feeling about your new friend.
Elsa: Oh please, he’s much better company than Jamems Lipton.
Ferb: That’s because anybody was better company than James Lipton. How is he these days?
Elsa: Last I heard he had grafted his head onto the robot’s body.
Ferb: Perfectly normal, I see.
Sinister Cultist: Ahm nash grim’batu, vich-nash zash…
Ferb: Elsa, I really don’t trust this guy.
Elsa: Is it the haunting chanting in an ancient forgotten tongue whilst standing atop an alter to unknown demonic forces that’s bothering you?
Ferb: Kinda.
Sinister Cultist: Rise, Santa, Rise!
Elsa: Sounds like a you problem, Ferb.


Without a warning, Ferb clutched his stomach and released a pained scream.
Elsa: You okay bud?
Ferb: Oooohhhh…
Doubling over, he clutched at his face. To his horror, thick wiry white hair burst forth from his chin!
Ferb: Ohh… hoo… ho-ho-ho!
Elsa: Oh my god! Ferb, that’s the fastest I’ve ever seen anybody grow a beard!
Reaching over, Ferb grabbed an axe from a nearly chopping block.
Ferb: Santa has risen! And now it’s time for him to go axe-murderous!


Ferb: Kill kill kill, ma ma ma…
Elsa: Oh for crying out loud! That’s not even remotely Christmas-related!
Wolf: Quick, Elsa! Grab one of the daggers from the knife tree.
Elsa: Wait, what? Knife tree?
Wolf: Yes. For some reason, such things exist in this part of the forest. I mean, it’s entirely possible that they were meant to be usual Christmas trees, but you have to admit that the top on it looks disturbingly knife-like, so…
With a thump, Ferb knocked Wolf down with the shaft of his axe. Elsa grabbed one of the tree’s verdant blades and deflected the crazed Santa’s blow.
Elsa: You know, it would be great if we could have just one holiday without an axe fight. Just once.


Blip: Father! Father, what have you done?
A young child ran across the field, witnessing the horrific onslaught.
Sinister Cultist: Oh, my son! Blip, get back to the cottage, before you catch cold.
Blip: Father, no! Why is that bearded man trying to kill that woman? Is this your doing?
Sinister Cultist: I… I…
Blip: This is just like Easter again, isn’t it? Damn it, dad!
Sinister Cultist: Oh my boy, you’re right! What have I done?
With that, the Sinister Cultist grabbed his brush. Sprinting across the icy lake, he brought the brush down on the back of Ferb’s head, knocking him out cold.
Elsa: Bloody hell! That was a perfectly timed face-turn!
Recovering Cultist: Yes, I’m so sorry!
Blip: Hey miss, my dad does this every holiday. You should have seen Thanksgivings. The entire farm was eaten by a giant zombie turkey. He’s the worst dad ever.
Recovering Cultist: I’m sorry son, I’ll try to be better.
Elsa: Well… I guess that family’s what this holiday is all about? I think… maybe not like this, though.


Blip: Here you go, Mr Ferb, have this mug of hot cocoa that I found.
Ferb: Oh, my head. I feel… so strange. What happened?
Elsa: You don’t remember?
Recovering Cultist: I’m sorry, this is all my fault.
Elsa: Maybe you can explain what happened, then?
Recovering Cultist: You see, you remember all that chanting that I was going? It was intended to summon the spirit of Christmas! Unfortunately it looks like it happened literally – your friend was possessed by the ghost of Santa!
Ferb: Is that going to be this year’s storyline? Because that’s pretty lame.
Blip: Don’t disrespect the storyline, dude.


The party retire for the evening to the cottage of the Recovering Cultist. Later that night, Ferb goes for a walk. Under the moonlight he strolls through the snowy fields, lost in thought.
Ferb: Wow, what a weird day. Definitely not every day you get possessed by the ghost of Santa. Ha ha, it’s pretty weird. Ha ha ho ho ho…
Turning around, Ferb catches sight of a figure in the field.
Ferb: Gasp! Oh no, who are you?
Faceless Man: Do you not remember me? I am the Faceless Man, the loyal servant of the Santa!
Ferb: Wh.. what do you want?
Faceless Man: To serve you, my master!
Ferb: But I’m not your master! I’m not Santa!
Faceless Man: Are you sure?
Ferb: No… no… Big ‘no’ scream!
With that, Ferb wakes from his nightmare. Glancing around, he discovers that he is still in his bed in the cottage. What a peculiar dream…


Blip: Hey, this is my mom. Mom, these are my new friends.
Elsa: Uhh, yeah. I guess that makes you Mrs Cultist?
Joan: Well most people call me Joan.
Elsa: So that’s Joan Cultist?
Joan: Yes.
Elsa: And your son is… Blip Cultist?
Joan: Yep.
Elsa: Got it. Lovely to meet you.
Joan: My husband feels really bad for the whole demonic possession thing. How is Ferb holding up, by the way?
Elsa: He’s stopped vomiting up tinsil.


Wolf: I think I scored a twelve!
Joan Cultist: Whoa, I’ve got a three! Way to go.
Wolf: Does anybody know how this game works?
Recovering Cultist: No idea!
Elsa: Awesome! This is so much fun!
Ferb: Guys, I really don’t want to be a downer, but I’m kinda worried about my mortal soul here. Do we really have to spend the whole day playing these dumb obscure winter sports?
Recovering Cultist: Geez Ferb, way to be a buzzkill.
Wolf: Yeah, grinch!


Joan Cultist: Ah, there’s nothing quite like sitting in my rocking chair by an open fire.
Recovering Cultist: And sipping a mug of hot mulled wine. Truly this is the best Christmas that we’ve had all year!
Elsa: Uhh, right. Guys, I hate to say it, but we kinda need to leave.
Recovering Cultist: Oh?
Elsa: Yeah, Ferb’s been growing really whiney about the whole being possessed by Santa’s vengeful ghost.
Ferb: Grumble grumble yo ho ho…
Elsa: That’s a pirate, dear.
Ferb: Well they both say ho ho.
Recovering Cultist: Well you guys are welcome at my home any time.
Wolf: Listen, let’s be serious for a moment. We need to find something that can help Ferb with his demonic possession. And I think I know just the thing…


The trio left the Cultist family behind and travelled far across the land. Following Wolf’s eager nose, they soon arrived at a great library.
Elsa: What is this place?
Wolf: Trust me, I have a friend who works here.
Librarian: Wolf? Is that you?
Wolf: Hey Greta. It’s been so long! These are my friends, Elsa and Ferb.
Librarian: Oh my, what’s with your friend’s festive hat?
Ferb: Ugg… ho ho ho…
Elsa: Please, can you help him? He’s possessed by the vengeful ghost of Santa.
Librarian: Oh, that? You’d be amazed how many people we get coming in here looking for help with demonic possession. Let me find a book that will help.
Elsa: Are you sure that’ll be any use? The front page says ‘Once upon a time’…
Librarian: Actually, this is the Necronomicon. It’s the foremost book on the supernatural in the world. It’s written in an ancient script known only to Librarians. The words just happen to look like they say ‘once upon a time’, by complete coincidence.
Elsa: I see… are you a quack?
Librarian: Completely.


Ferb: What is this?
Librarian: I made tea. And a cake.
Ferb: How does this help us any?
Librarian: Drink the tea.
Ferb: I… are you sure? It’s on fire.
Librarian: Trust me. I’m a librarian.
Ferb: But… the fire…
Librarian: Drink the tea you little twerp!
Ferb: Fine, fine. Glug glug glug…
Librarian: What do you see?
Blinking, Ferb stumbles back a few steps. A strange image appears before his eyes.
Ferb: What… what is this?
Librarian: The necronomicon instructs us to brew the tea so that it will grant you a phophecy.
Ferb: You might have said that before I drank it! I think I burned my tongue.
Librarian: Time is growing short for you, Ferb. Soon it will be Christmas day – and when the clock hits midnight, your possession will be complete and you will become the new Santa himself!
Ferb: That’s… dumb.
Librarian: Is it? Look at what has happened to your hat.
Ferb: Aaaaaaagh!!


Ferb: Quick, Elsa! I’m so glad that we found these snow buggies!
Elsa: Where are we going?
Ferb: The librarian gave me a vision of the future. If I wish to stop the possession, I need to take Santa’s hat and return it to the place of his origin!
Elsa: You mean the North Pole?
Ferb: Yes! Only there in Santa’s workshop can we find that which can destroy Santa’s hat – and with it, the curse itself!
Elsa: This seems unnecessarily complicated.
Ferb: I thought we agreed not to disrespect the storyline.
Elsa: Fine, fine. Oh look, up ahead in the distance! I see a shimmering light!
Ferb: My head grows heavy and my sight grows dim…
Elsa: We have to stop for the night!


The pair disembark from their vehicles and walk up to a large building. Pushing open the door, they step inside and find themselves in a vast hotel.
Elsa: Wait, this really is a hotel?
Ferb: Lost in a snowdrift. It looks abandoned.
Elsa: Maybe we can find some supplies.
The two stumble through the dark hallways, and eventually locate a kitchen.
Elsa: Do you think we could turn this stove on?
Ferb: I miss Wolf. If only he had come with us. He knows how to cook.
Faceless Man: The warlock’s magic will not save you now.
Ferb: Aaagh! Snowman!
Elsa: Oh shit!


Faceless Man: Ferb… you will become the Santa. It is your destiny.
Ferb: No… no!…
With that, Elsa reached up and grabbed the frying pan from the stove. Lunging forward, she brought the steel pan over her head in a brutal swing. Striking again and again, she tore the chilly snowman’s body in twain, leaving it scattered on the floor.
Elsa: Phew. Now let’s get out of this abandoned hotel.
Ferb: Uhh, I’m not so sure it’s abandoned….
Elsa: Of course it is. Who would live alone in a hotel in the middle of winter? And honestly, what kind of a name is the Overlook for a hotel anyway!


Jack: Heeeere’s me!
Elsa: Yikes!
Ferb: Oh great, a crazed axe maniac who lives alone in this abandoned hotel. Who would have guessed?
Jack: You two stand still, I want to axe you both a question!
Elsa: Oh god no, it’s even worse – he’s going to bad pun us to death!
Ferb: Quick, try to keep this handy table with a plate of Christmas turkey on it between us and him. Isn’t it lucky that we have this here.
Elsa: Just help me up.


Ferb: Oh no! By the time on this clock, I only have five more days before Christmas. I can somehow tell the number of days by looking at this clock, you see. It’s a gift I’ve had since I was a child…
Elsa: Ferb! Bit of a problem with the axe murderer!
Jack: Raaaaage!
Ferb: Oh yeah, that’s right.
Elsa: Why are you even trying to murder us, axe man?
Jack: Let’s just say that I have an axe to grind!
Elsa: Oh no, not another bad pun.
Ferb: This is it – I have one chance. I need to find something to defeat this crazed maniac with, otherwise this will be the worst Christmas ever. Or at least, the worst since I was twelve. Actually, no, I think this one might be just a little bit worse.


Ferb: Elsa, look at my sack!
Elsa: This is neither the time or the place.
Ferb: No – Santa’s sack has magically appeared. It must be part of the curse.
Elsa: Quick, reach into it and see if you can find anything to help us.
Ferb reaches in, and locks his fingers around…
Ferb: A snowboard?
Jack: Oh no, my one weakness! Being clubbed with a snowboard!
Ferb: Isn’t that technically everybody’s weakness?


Elsa: I swear, Ferb, we are never ever stopping at that hotel ever again. What a phenomenally depressing and pointless detoir.
Ferb: It wasn’t that bad. At least we didn’t get any ‘Here’s Johnny’ jokes.
Elsa: But now we have only three days before Santa’s curse claims your soul, and we still have no idea where his workshop is. Are we even anywhere near the North Pole?
Ferb: Hey look! A telescope.
Elsa: What an impressive piece of plot contrivance!
Ferb: Shhh. Look – the workshop is just over there! Quickly, we can get there before nightfall.
Elsa: Who’d have ever thought that the Overlook Hotel was right next to Santa’s Workshop? Truly a Christmas miracle.


Ferb: Elsa, look! Santa’s magical furnace.
Elsa: He has a magical furnace?
Ferb: Of course he does. What eldritch ancient demigod doesn’t have a magical furnace?
Elsa: Most of them?
With that, Ferb hurled the jolly had into the fire from which it had been forged. A great rumbling filled the little log cabin, and a sound like a billion voices screamed out from the flames.
Elsa: Did… did we do it right?
Ferb: I feel different. Look – my beard is falling away. My pants are turning back to their hearty shade of blue. Elsa, I think I’m cured!
Elsa: Really? So why do I have this strange feeling of dread!
Wolf: Ferb! Thank goodness I found you! Don’t burn the hat! I’ve just discovered – if you do, a terrible fate will befall us!
Ferb: Oh sh-


Wolf: Ferb, listen to me! If you burn Santa’s hat, his ghost will be freed!
Ferb: What should we do?
Wolf: It’s simple. You have to-
Other Wolf: Don’t listen to him, Ferb! It’s a trick!
Elsa: Wait, what? TWO Wolves!
Other Wolf: Listen – that wolf is the evil Santa!
Wolf: No, you’re the evil Santa! Ferb, Elsa, strike now before he casts a spell upon you!
Ferb: But… how can we ever tell them apart? It’s hopeless! Hopeless!
Elsa: Ferb, I think I might know a way.
Ferb: Really? How?
Wolf: Oh my god, you two really are stupid…


With a rippling of flesh and a crackling of bone, the fake Wolf rose up and began to mutate.
Wolf: It’s him! He’s risen!
Santa: Ho ho ho! Ferb, you have been very naughty this year.
Elsa: What do we do?
Santa: But don’t worry, ho ho, I forgive you. After all, it’s the season of giving. Come, let me make you some hot cocoa.
Wolf: Run! Run before it’s too late! We’re doomed!
Ferb: No Wolf – it ends here!
Santa: Ferb, it’s the season of goodwill and cheer, ho ho ho. Come, I’ll show you my sleigh and introduce you to my reindeer.
Elsa: What do we do, Ferb?
Ferb: The same thing we do every year, Elsa – kill Santa!
chopping, stabbing
Santa: Aaagh, oh god, the pain! Why? Why…
Ferb: Yeah! Death to Santa! Die, evil monster!
Santa: But I’m not evil! I’ve never been evil! This is all a misundersta-aaaaagh!
stabbing, chopping
Ferb: Merry Christmas, everyone! Now quick Elsa, go for the eyes!
screaming, stabbing


Santa: Groan… oh, my spleen. This is definitely not a jolly Christmas, no, not at all, oh my…

Santa: Curse that Ferb and his friends. That’s two years in a row that they’ve tried to kill the spirit of Christmas. Oh, this will not stand, no, no…

With a rustling and a crumpling, Santa dug into his magic sack and pulled free a special Christmas gift just for himself…

Darth Santa: Ho ho ho! Next year, Ferb, you’re getting something far worse than a lump of coal in your stocking! Ho ho ho!!…

To Be Continued!