GYSO Reviews Part 82 - The War on Christmas: Something Else

Published: 2025-12-28

So basically, it’s like that scene in Sonic Adventure where the Emerald Island or whatever is… falling? Except not at all like that, and all likeness to any immaterial rights other than GYSO is merely coincidence. Santa F. Clause turned out to be a real bad apple – again! And now Hell has frozen over – again, again! Marriages are in despair as attractive people leave en masse for ugly people they casually said “yeah right, when Hell freezes over again” to at the bar.

It’s a sight to behold, seeing a whole, dick-shaped, continent–the North Dong–rising. Into the sky. Because a vacuum cleaner was turned off under it. I’m not paid enough to write this crap. Support our Patreon, donate to our kofi, find us on X/Twitter, visit our discord, join Doctors Without Borders after donating all your worldly possessions to us, and go fuck yourself (with our GYSO brand dildo at our AWESOME merch store that TOTALLY isn’t full of cheap shit you’ll never want to be caught dead wearing in public. Because it’s bdsm gear–unless you’re into that).

In Skegness, business is going on as usual, considering most of the population of the town has been put under pressure to go into the timeless void around the clock tower. The military presence has only grown, and even more so when some smart-ass started theorizing that the time loop field could be a game played by Santa, Geoff Beachhouse, or Melon Musk. As military presence frighten the tourists, the locals feel they had no other choice.

Needless to say, when the shadow of a giant penis blots out the sun over Skegness, it’s not even interesting enough to reach the front page of their newspaper. Because they still read newspaper over there apparently.

Debra, elephant secretary for Month of the Month Club, walks into her office – fresh pile of shit today, as usual. One time she tried not cleaning it, but it piled up onto the floor after a while. Wow that’s gross. “Wow that’s gross”, she trumpets. Because elephants.

Outside her shit-smeared window she sees the North Dong beginning to rise into stable orbit around GYSO-Planet.

“Great. More paperwork. Those idiots never acknowledge my hard work. Or that I exist.”

On the bustling city streets of whatever the GYSO Main Metropolitan city is called…

Bus Driver: Get outta here! Get outta here! I’m not actually from Boston. I just like saying that.

There’s like 20 people strapped onto the roof of the buses during rush hour, and twenty of them have itches during rash hour, and there’s no genies during wish hour, and they’re strapped with guns during something something insensitive school shooter joke, all since the big Bad Dragon isn’t using his designated seat anymore.

Suddenly! The bus swerves!

The Bus 1(swerving) Driver: Dang diggity! That gosh dang diddly motherfucking pisser, dog gamn, is blotting out the sun!

Passenger: Is it a bird?

Passing-on-ager: I’m not long for this world…

Passion-grr: Grrrr, this makes me upset!

P[redacted]: [DATA EXPUNGED]

Parsing-er: It’s not a bird, it’s recursive descent! It’ll compile and run!

Parsnip-ear: Life is suffering.

Passenger: You people are worse than the GYSO-Wallmart natives.

Possession-er: I feel like you’re pretty possesive about these social rules. Are they your girlfirend or someth– nevermind.

As the North Dong takes its maiden voyage, defying the currently known laws of gr-aviation, big round chunks of earth is dingling off. I mean– dangling off.

Puss: Don’t make me talk.

Passing-gas-inger: PPPPPPPPPPPPPPPFFFFFFFFFFTTTTTTTT OH GOD WHY IS THIS MY WHOLE CHARACTER PPPPPPP

The (dies) Bus 1 (still swerving) Driver (inger): It’s going for the culturally distinct Two Towers–no relation!

Indeed, one significantly chunky piece of land has been knocked loose from the chaos of the floating penis-land, and is on a collision course straight towards the Towers. The population brace themselves for a tragic penis-related moment that will surely change aviation and dildos forever…

But wait! Several years prior, the GYSO Government (and associated bullshit) painted the Two Towers like a humongous football field goal, to deterr any bad actor from crashing into them.

Desperate-inger: I HAVE MY SON’S COLLEGE SAVINGS RIDING ON THIS! COME ON COME ON!! ALL IN!!

It’s…

A goal!!!!!!

The bus swerves in joy.

Meanwhile…

Thim: Whatever. What else is on?

There’s chaotic and ravage fighting (and name-calling) going on at the North Dong as it starts its ascent into orbit. For some reason, Thim is clicking on a TV remote, aiming it at different parts of the scene. Snag’darr struggling for his life. Henry struggling for his life, Sara struggling for her life. Ninja Boy aka Big Erectus Babe aka Jesus Christ nowhere to be seen, Geoff Beachhouse being carried away in the glass jar he’s trapped in, struggling for his life.

Santa: You… Woman!

Sara: Bro. That’s an… insult to you?

Santa: Do you even know how old I am?

Sara: Whatever, if it’s an insult match you want, just know that I won my local speeling [sic] bee, four years a champion.

Santa: … And what’s the insult supposed to be there? That youre a nerd?? You nerdy nerd nerd?

Sara: It means I can’t spell I-CUP.

Santa: But that’s easy! It’s…

Snag’dar–who’s a dragon by the by in case you forgot, dumbass–is flying around in a panic. There’s a flock of elfs trying to decorate him with Christmas ornaments and wrap him in gift wrapping.

Snag’darr: CLIMB ON ME YOU DUMB FUCKS! WE GOTTA FLY AWAY FROM THIS BEFORE WE RUN OUT OF AIR TO BREATHE!

Thim: But I’m le tired.

Snag’darr: Well, take a nap– THEN GET THE FUCK ON ME!

Henry: wow~! what a riveting adventure! i think i’ll start talking in lowercase now! :D

The passing wind should be sending the little aloe vera plant flying, but it’s being cradled by a napping Thim.

Albert: Henry, please don’t tell me that’s a Homestuck reference. Please. I’m begging you.

Henry: hehe~! i’m defining myself by fictional characters and old internet humor :P

Snag’darr: A shame we couldn’t find Big Erectus Babe.

Silence. Man this would be a great time for a Big Erectus Babe to pop up.

…

…Ahem.

Snag’darr: Anyways, he can fend for himself, can’t he teleport or some shit?

Sara: Can’t like half of us teleport? Including me? Why am I here?

Thim (waking up): What? You can teleport? Why’re you here?

Henry: sara can teleport, but we don’t know why she’s here.

Sara: I’m going to teleport, because why am I here?

Sara grunts, activating her power tool’s teleport functionality that it totally has canonically. She doesn’t teleport.

Thim: Ah, yes. It won’t work right now.

Sara: WHY THE FUCK NOT?!

Thim shrugs.

Thim: Plot contrivance.

Henry: what are we going to do now with Santa being evil and the north dong flying?

Snag’darr: We have to do something about it right now, is all I know.

Snag’darr is filled with DETERMINATION.

…

…Ahem?

Thim: Anyone want to just go home and fuck around?

Falling from the sky…

Big Erectus Babe AAAHHHH I’M BACK! BYE!!!

Misses Snag’darr…

Everyone: AHHH WHAT THE FUCK!?

Cue sitcom beat breakdown. Laugh track. Et cetera.

Alright I’m bored. Let’s continue this later.

Geoff Beachhouse, the horrendous and abdominable (not snowman) villain, is captured in a glass jar like some small insect–or a really disgusting 4chan post. “Let me out”, he might be screaming, but the glass is soundproof or some shit. Can’t give the previous ruler of Hell any leeway, it seems.

Elf: Man, I’m so glad we made the glass out of Some Shit(tm). Who knew they could ship it in such quantities while keeping it transparent?

Elf Two: Didn’t they source it from some desk? Doobra’s or something?

Geoff quickly takes his hands off the glass and ĺooks repulsed.

Elf: Who cares, lmao?

They’re pushing a giant trolley down the length of the North Dong, which is continuing its rise into geostable orbit around GYSO-Planet.

Elf Two: Hey, Elf. Why do they call it GYSO-Planet?

Elf: Beats me, Elf Two, I thought it was GYSO Earth.

Elf Two: They really gotta get their continuity together. The view’s great though.

Elf: I don’t think there’s budget enough for that, and even if there was, I’m not sure the budget would go to the education sector. When’s the last time you saw a classroom depicted, anyways?

As they’re approaching a giant metal door, some obvious entrance to a prison cell or vault, Geoff tries toppling the glass jar out of the trolley. Without success.

Elf Two: Uh, maybe it was the prison class that Thim took? Or when he held a lecture as a pirate?

Elf: My point, proven.

A layer of fog floats close to the floor as the giant vault door opens.

Elf: Sweet, they got the fog machines installed.

Elf Two: What’s the deal with the Sci-Fi cliché of every door having to let out smoke or whatever, anyways? Like there’s that much condensation through the next door? Riiight…

Channeling the last of his Ruler of Hell-powers, Geoff calmly collects himself before punching towards the lid, made of co(r/c)k. But it doesn’t affect the glass jar.

Elf: Obviously, it’s for dramaturgical purpose.

The room seems entirely dark, the fog is thiccc.

Elf Two: Because someone installed the frog machine, either on the set, or in this case, in reality.

Frog Machine: Ribbit.

Rabbit: I am the evil twin of– wait, no it said ribbit. Sorry. I’ll leave.

Elf: We truly live in the worst timeline.

As the lights turn on, it illuminates an absolutely huge room, an empty monolith worthy of that big Jedi council in that one shitty movie–Stole Warts or something.

Geoff is mouthing something, making gestures with his hands, looking like bribes, money, uh… jerking motion? Guess he’s desperate or something. But the elfs are unfazed–and asexual. Sorry, elf shippers. Softly, in the background… Born in 1964, it’s Geoffrey– Geoffrey Beachhouse. Come on Geoffrey….

Ironically, it really seems to be a Stole Warts ripoff as the elfs lower the glass jar into some liquid freeze contraption to trap Geoff. Then a giant Layoff-the-hutt gurgles some squid thing or whatever and it’s really well done practical effects. Ugh.

Elf Two: I almost can’t believe this is real life, it’s almost too comical and strange to be true. You know? I mean, why this whole contraption, at the center of the now-orbiting North Dong? I’ve literally never seen this Layoff-the-fuck thing in my life!

Elf: What are you talking about? Do you have some other more ‘normal’ thing to compare to? Now come help me translate Layoff-the-hutt’s gurgles.

Goopy Droopy: You are all probably exuding in wonderance of why I have gathered you all here today.

The entire GYSO Crew(tm) sans Goopy crosses their arms, claws, and fronds. Everyone’s talking, simultaneously. Also Everyone.

Albert: WHERE WERE YOU? I THOUGHT WE WOULD GET BACKUP FROM THE SENTIENT BEING GOOPY DROOPY, BUT NOOOOOO, YOU JUST HAD TO GET UP AND LEAVE, HUH?–

Thim: Did you bring any snacks?

Snag’darr: How irresponsible isn’t it to not even give us a heads up on what was going to happen out there?! Aren’t you some almight smelly boi? Huh?

Henry: did you know I can cross my fronds? :D

Sara: That’s nice Henry– THE AUDACITY TO SHOW UP UNNANOUNCED, RIGHT (about) AFTER THE BIGGEST CATATSROPHE THE WORLD HAS YET SEEN, ASKING THAT? HOW. DARE–

Goopy Droopy: My friends. I assure you there is a reasonable explanation for this percieved failure in my duties.

Thim: Heh. Duty. You can’t talk your way out of this! Now, start talking your way out of this, and what are you making us for brunch to make up for it!?

Goopy Droopy: I smelled into the future, as I often do, and percieved my utter lack of presence in the events surrounding the fabled North Dong. So I did not show up.

Sara: Wait– wait! You didn’t smell it because you didn’t show up in the first place! Er– backwards?

Thim points at some garbage.

Thim: That’s some weak-ass garbo. And you’re full of shit too, Goopy.

Henry: weak ass-grabo! yay~ :P do you ever feel like a plastic bag?

Snag’darr: What did I tell you about swearing around the plant?

Bunny: It is hopeless, dragon. He will never stop. This, I have learned the hard way.

Thim: Ugh. Whatever. What’s your deal anyways, Goopy, why are you here now?

Goopy Droopy: Because–

Thim: If you say it’s because you smelled you were here, I’m going to punch you, snot shit be damned.

Henry: wait… if he’s smelling the future, then that means the future’s affecting the past… do you have free will, mister droopy? :’(

Goopy Droopy looks directly at the camera.

Goopy Droopy: I do. Yes.

Sara: None of this makes any sense, and none of it explains how you’re going to make this up to us, Goopy. You’re basically never around, and when you are, you’re super confusing. Leave the poor sentence alone.

Goopy Droopy droops, as if shrugging imaginary shoulders. Some of it splatters on the ground.

Goopy Droopy: Taco Tuseday?

Everyone looks around. And everyone looks around.

Thim: Sure.

John John: John, what have you done?

The camera cuts from a shaking image of John, blood all over, bread knife in one hand, wearing a plastic apron, hunched over what seems to be a dead animal or… person? A werewolf? Now, airing to millions of viewers, is an intense full-face moneyshot of the news anchor of the world’s most popular news broadcast, sweating profusely onto the very fabric of his sweater already, breathing shallow, mom’s weak, knees spaghetti…

John: That’s right, John John! We’ve got a guest specialist today to talk about the North Dong Debacle!

John John: You know why they call us ‘news anchors’?

John: Why’s that, John John?

John John: Because we weigh everything down. My life is a lie. Now! Who is our guest?

Gunshot. Also the camera shot breaks into two even pictures on the screen. At the news station, people start running in panic. About the gunshot. Not the screen thing. Gotta have the right referent for the topic of the sentence.

Jon: Hi. I’m Jon, dong correspondent. Expert of dongs. Experienced dong owner, and proponent of open dong carry. It’s a hard position to keep.

At the word ‘correspond’, everyone who hears it shivers, just a little.

John John grabs a pillow and screams into it. The pillow screams back.

Jon: And I’m standing here, where the outer reaches of the North Dong used to be. Currently, this whole area is covered by shadow from the phallic monstrosity that has entered orbit around the planet. It is currently unknown how high it will go, and how this will affect the ocean tides. Other than that, it’s a successful launch product, with millions of eyes on it.

John: Wow, Jon, that’s amazing! What’s the reactions of the people?

John John: Well, John, people everywhere are scrambling to hide the visage of a vaguely penis-shaped thing in the sky. Experts say censors are trying to figure out anything at all at the moment. The two methods being discussed right now center around either fabric, or sounding a loud beeping noise.

Jon: With me, I’ve found a local… uh… that, uh… please stop doing that.

A lesser demon has crawled out of the hidden exit from Hell, and is now purring with ten mouths and rubbing up on Jon the dong correspondent, expert of dong’s legs like a cat.

John John (hyperventilating): Wow, looks like you found a new friend, Jon. We’ll get back to you.

Jon: Wait– wait!

The feed shuts off.

John: And now a word from our sponsors…

Click.

Thim: That sucked baaaaaaaaaaalls. I’m bored. Can we have another climax? The buildup’s too boring. And falling action is for scrubs.

Thim licks his fingers clean of the shattered remains of his taco.

Goopy Droopy: Be patient, my fellow immortal. We have all the time to see all that this universe has to offer.

Thim: Eh. Fuck it. Now what?

The dies.

The end.