GYSO Reviews Part 78 - The North Dong

Published: 2025-11-02

At the GYSO Mansion Playboy Mansion

Henry: We’re concerned about you, Thimmy :P

Thim: Call me that again and I’m watering you with ethanol.

Henry: That’s alright, I’m not sure you’ll be able to afford water for much longer anyways… considering–

Bursting into the currently relevant room…

Sara: YOU NAMED IT “NORTH DONG”?! BECAUSE “NORTH POLE” WASN’T SUGGESTIVE ENOUGH?!

Thim: Yeah.

Lifting Thim by the collar of his fuzzy pink bathrobe, Sara screams.

Sara: EXPLAIN YOURSELF?!

Thim squirms out of his canononical fuzzy pink bathrobe onto the floor like a wet hotdog falling out of a bun. It’s exactly as disgusting as you’re imagining.

Thim (on the floor): I want to quit being the God of War, and like any good working class man, I’m going to take the whole company down with me.

Snag’darr (who’s also there): There’s nothing ‘working class’ about being a god, Thim.

Thim: Yeah? Tell that to the elves that keep asking me what to do.

Thim stands up, takes the fuzzy pink bathrobe of infinite pinkness and somewhat fuzziness, puts it on, tap dances, and pets Bunny the bunny on his shoulder.

Sara: Why are you like this.

Snag’darr spits to the side, growling because he’s a dragon, remember?

Snag’darr: I blame them. I dare not speak their names.

Henry: You mean Tim and Thor?

The cake–there’s a cake–explodes.

Sara: Why’d you say their names?!?!

Lifting Henry by the… actually, nevermind.

Henry (covered in cake): MMMMMM :P tasty

Sara: YOU DON’T HAVE A TONGUE TO TASTE WITH!

Henry (putting on sunglasses, somehow): Photosynthesis, bi-atch-es.

Thim: Alright, who’s been showing Henry PG13 movies?

Everyone: YOU! IT’S YOU!

Thim: Let’s not point fingers, Everyone.

Snag’darr: Yeah, what’s Everyone doing here anyways?

Everyone leaves in shame, yet another throwaway character for the pile. He’s probably leaving to shit on Debra’s desk. Yeah, there’s a callback.

Sara: Okay. North Dong? Can we get please back to the North Dong?

Santa… somewhere.

Santa: I wonder what that idiot’s doing with my title, empire, and resources.

Santa turns on the TV for the first time in a month.

News anchor (John): In other news, God of War Thim renames the North Pole into the North Dong!

Santa gives a loud sigh as he prepares his… war stuff? The stuff. Yes. Just imagine a really awesome description, with great theming and character moments, punctuated by moments that really lets you know that the writer has deep and intimate understanding on what they’re writing about. The details are good, but not so effusive as to detract from the message and authorial intent.

John John: That’s right, John! And the stocks of the North Dong are better than ever!

Santa: What.

John: Thanks John John! With everyone traumatized by war, the rebranding into the North Dong has made the people of the world rejoice.

Santa: …Okay. I guess it’s under control for now. Got better stuff to do, anyways.

Santa turns off the TV and goes back to watching War-themed anime.

Later… Thim giving a tour of the new, improved North Dong. No it’s not a Willy Wonka reference, promise.

Thim: Okay, and here’s the bomb– I mean, fun-bomb– room! Where they make Happy Grenades and Lucky Shots…

Sara: The stuff that explodes into candy shrapnel when opened, and sugar rush shots that never miss a child?

Thim: You see it now! War is so ingrained into their entire system, their way of life, that they can’t even think of ways to create children’s toys that aren’t harmful or manipulative. Look!

The Crew(TM) watch as two elfs take to their lunch break. By force. On the way, one of them tries to trip the other person. The second elf responds by throwing marbles on the ground, making the first elf lose their footing. On it’s way down, the first elf redirects it’s energy to fall onto the second elf, keeping it pinned on the floor. Guards are alerted and on their way. The second elf hits a hidden switch, creating a pitfall under the other elf, who uses mechanical death wings to fly out. The guards arrive and shoot both.

Henry: …Wow.

Thim: See what I mean?

Snag’darr: It’s creative thinking, I’ll give ’em that, but I wonder how much insurance costs for this place… Would hate to be any sort of lawyer working here.

Thim: Insurance? We just hold world leaders at gunpoint until they give us a cut of their tax revenue. Not like they’re using it for anything useful anyways.

Sara: That’s awful! How can you do that to a person?

Thim: By holding a gun to their head until they give us a cut of their tax revenue… Duh. Dumba rumba. When I suggested they come up with a “more human approach”, they came back with “let’s do it to their kids”. In a sense, it’s a lesser sort of evil.

What time is it?

Santa F. Clause opens his eyes, greeted by huge anime booba swinging on his TV screen. Didn’t he turn that thing off? What time is it? Let’s count the swings. Left booba, four times, right booba, also four times. 4:40AM. When did he fall asleep, again?

No time for the waifu-clock, the evil rectangle is buzzing. Dailies are calling.

Santa: Hello?

Geoff Beachhouse: One sec.

FLASHBACK: REMEMBER, THIS GUY’S THE NEW LEADER OF HELL AFTER SANTA LEFT. THIS HAS BEEN YOUR INSTANT GYSO LORE(tm) SEGMENT.

Jeff Beachhouse: Wait, I know who your–!

There’s the sound of a gunshot.

Geoff Beachhouse: Alright, that faker’s gone. How’s it going, Big S? Enjoying your Japanese animes? You filthy motherf– fun lover?

Santa: Uhhhh. I’m… Could someone come and refill my pachinko machine? And some more credit cards for my gacha games. I need the new War Crime Tier Waifu: Mustard Gasuwu.

Geoff Beachhouse: Naaaw. Of course, darling. Anything you like. Have you made any Hell friends?

Santa: Oh. No. No, I haven’t. I, uh. I’ve just been playing my games, you know.

Geoff Beachhouse: Oh, I know, honey. I’ve been meeting with some people that would like to meet you, though. They’re very bad people, Mr. Clause. They’re the kind of people that don’t want you to have your waifu.

Santa: That’s, uh, not good?

Geoff Beachhouse: That’s right, baby, they’re just being jealous of your status in Hell, considering you have it so comfortable in your tiny, dark, little stanky-ass room. The air in there’s so thick I literally can cut it with a butter knife. I tried. So I’ve been doing my best to eradicate them for you, so that they won’t be a bother to you and your attempt to figure out the limits of how much filth a person can live in.

Santa: Wow. Thanks. I’m going to go beat my meat like it owes me money, now. Bye.

Thim paces in his candy cane room. He’s talking to himself, and Bunny.

Thim: Everyone loves the North Dong change, for some reason. I need to step up my game, really go all in on ruining everything.

Bunny: But father, how?

Thim stops pacing, looking towards the hole in the ceiling to the sky. By the way, there’s a hole in the ceiling.

Thim: I dunno lmao. Let’s just do stupid shit, it’s not like we’re going to die trying.

Bunny: Your wisdom, father, is incomparable. A star to a candle.

Thim: You just fucking compared it, you fuzzy little shit.

Bunny: I’m sorry father.

Thim (walking out of the room to cause chaos): Yeah yeah, whatever.

THE DIES

THE END