TCS Secret Santa

Have fun. Win stuff. Do things.

Re: TCS Secret Santa

Postby DamianaRaven » Thu Dec 26, 2013 9:10 pm

sunglasses wrote:I recognize that voice and would recognize it in a heart beat. I ain't telling though. :P


Same here, sister! I'd wager that all us women know who it is and are DELIGHTED to have shared in Nullbert's lovely gift. Thanks for posting it, Bert!
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Re: TCS Secret Santa

Postby LaoWai » Fri Dec 27, 2013 1:53 pm

My lovely gift does more with less. http://i.imgur.com/vSuLXsk.png It got a good chucle out of me.
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Re: TCS Secret Santa

Postby sunglasses » Fri Dec 27, 2013 2:23 pm

That's awesome, Lao.
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Re: TCS Secret Santa

Postby JamishT » Sat Dec 28, 2013 1:45 am

Through snow, sleet, and whatever else plagues the Internet, my gift has finally arrived! It's a simple, but good one. I approve. *Stamps with approval*


Spoiler: show
JamishT is very dear,
I'd like to buy him a beer.
He's wicked smart, his humor sharp
a gentle-man with noble heart.

It's Christmas now and old St. Nick
has most of us on naughty list.
But JamishT is the exception
so we get gifts by association.

And while it's true, he's kind of weird
he owns the awesomest of beards.
Friends like him are hard to find,
we're lucky to have him around.

You'll have to excuse my poor rhymes,
I was running out of time.
Here's a digital apology,
for an Amish with technology.
  • 15

JamishT was a heck of a guy,
With a devilish twinkle in his eye.
With his hand-picked flowers,
And his feel-good powers,
He made all the girls blush and sigh.
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Re: TCS Secret Santa

Postby OrangeEyebrows » Sun Dec 29, 2013 12:39 am

I pronounce this event a resounding success

In the event, EVERY Santa came through, which is unprecedented when I've participated in this kind of event before. Those of you who got double presents - consider it a gift from my anxiety disorder. Everyone's Santa came through. In some cases I called in a volunteer elf for an extra because I didn't want anyone to go without and was nervous about last-minute pressies.

Double thanks to my emergency elves - Father Christmas has an "Extra-nice" list we're not often told about, and you're on it.

You're all awesome. I hope everyone has had a lovely Christmas, and here's to a happy, healthy and productive 2014. Look out for Secret Cupid in February. <3 Love you all.
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Re: TCS Secret Santa

Postby Tesseracts » Sun Dec 29, 2013 6:10 am

Hi everyone, I think I should share the awesome present I got.

Spoiler: show
A Christessmas Carol™
By The Ghost of TCS Present

Tesseracts sat at her computer, staring at the latest victim of the Great Spambot War of 2013. She sent off an assassination request to one of her Generals. That would be one less mother-in-law who would be conned into working from home.

This turned out not to be the case, as an ‘out of office’ response was immediately sent back from the General, stating that he would address the issue after Christmas. She sent the request to her other Generals, and got similar responses from all of them. She pressed reply-all and simply wrote “Bah, Humbug”. Wars were not won this way. Tesseracts had not built The Comment Section to see it destroyed due to negligence. The enemies were spreading and if they spotted a weakness, there was no telling what attack strategies or discount Trojan condoms the bots would be sending in.

She heard carollers singing out of sync downstairs and opened up her window. “Get a tune-up!” she yelled, throwing her computer mouse at the smallest one. It bounced off her harmlessly. They had no idea what was going on in the virtual world. It occurred to Tess that what she’d yelled out wasn’t particularly sensible. She was tired. She went back to her desk and closed her eyes for a second.

She immediately awoke at the sound of a smash. The damn carollers were looting again. Tess spun her chair around to see a figure in her room, righting a bed lamp. When he noticed the inhabitant staring at him, he looked up sheepishly. “Sorry about that,” he said.

“What are you doing in my room?” Tesseracts asked.

“Oh, I’m not in your room. Not really.”

“You just knocked over my lamp.”

“Right. I guess I am in your room. But it’s for a good reason. You need some Christmas spirit, and you’re out of Baileys so that just leaves me.”

Tess sighed. It was a homeless guy, breaking in for his own amusement. It was her fault for leaving the window open. “I’ve got a war to get back to so if you could let yourself out...”

“I’m not leaving,” the figure said. “Not until I teach you the true meaning of Christmas.”

“Okay, guess I’ll have to call the cops,” Tess shrugged, reaching for her cell phone. To her surprise, it flung itself across the room and was caught by the cloaked figure.

“Technology’s what got you into this mess,” the figure said.

“What mess?” Tess asked, looking around the room. The only mess was the broken lamp, which the homeless psychic had broken himself.

“I don’t know,” the guy shrugged. “But I’ve been retired for over a century and I wouldn’t have been brought here for no reason. I’m the Ghost of TCS Past.”

“Is that a real thing?” Tess said. She was still asleep. That had to be it.

“Well, I’ve been demoted. I used to have a broader job description,” Past said. “Anyway, enough chit-chat. Let’s go back in time.”

“Why not?” Tess said. Past touched her shoulder and they were suddenly transported into a strange virtual world.

Tess turned behind her. She could see her room. She reached out to touch it, but her hand felt glass. She turned back in front of her to see the old layout of Cracked laid out before her, with comments rolling beneath her like the Star Wars credits. “Are we in my computer?”

“Not just yours. We’re inside the website TCS got its spinoff from.”

Tess looked again at the yellow and black colours surrounding the article. “This is before TCS.”

“Well, not necessarily,” Past said. “TCS is still here in spirit. See, there’s the regulars posting here. It just hadn’t solidified as its own branch yet. You did that.”

“Well, I don’t like to brag...” Tess bragged.

“Look closer,” Past pointed at a comment. Want free sexx? Singles in your area are blowing each other left, right and centre. Don’t miss out. Go to Sexxwithsingles.kom... “The war of bots had begun before you created TCS.

“That doesn’t mean it’s not a prob...” Tess started and looked around. Past had vanished.

Suddenly, she shot up awake. She knew it had been a dream. Past owed her fifty bucks. Then Tess realised she wasn’t in her room. She was still in the virtual world, only now she was standing in the middle of a thread, created by Typngfsfdg. She was inside TCS. “Fuck me,” she said, in a rare moment of profanity.

Someone cleared their throat behind her and she spun around. There was a young girl standing there. “You lost?” Tess asked.

“No, but you are. And I’m here to help you find your way,” the girl said.

“Let me guess. Christmas Present?”

“Haven’t got one yet,” the girl said, and let out a giggle.

Tess rolled her eyes. “TCS Present?”

“That’s me,” Present said. “The Ghost of TCS Present at your service.”

“In that case, drop me home, would you?”

“If a client told his lawyer to send him to jail, would he?”

Tess was not in the mood for riddles. “Get this over with,” she said. Present led her up the path and through a sealed door that read Messages. It was filled with unread messages, all from the username Tesseracts. “This can’t be right,” she muttered.

“Your Generals might respect you, but that doesn’t mean they’ll read things you send them over Christmas,” Present said. “They have lives, you know.”

“I sent all of these messages today?” Tess said, astounded.

“Yep,” Present said. “And you know what none of them said? Merry Christmas.”

Tess sighed. “Maybe I have been too obsessed with this war. Do you blame me?”

“I could never blame you,” Present said. “You gave birth to me.”

“Wait a minute,” Tess said in realisation. “You’re The Comment Se...” Before she could hug her child, she shot awake.
This time, there was no doubt that she was in the virtual world. And it was a horrible sight indeed. It was a desolate, grey realm, the faded letters TCS could be seen above her, but the rest of the site was a wasteland. She heard a creak behind her and spun to see a decrepit old man, with a wrinkled buttock for a face behind her.

“Are you The Ghost of TCS Future? Tess asked.

The man shook his head weakly and raised his finger. “Run!” he rasped.

Tess turned around to see a swarm of bots charging towards her. “Come on, sir, let’s go!” she said, tugging at the man’s arm.

He shook his head again. “The only thing waiting for me in any direction is a coffin.”

“I’ll get someone to protect you. Where are the Generals?”

“They’re dead. Everyone’s dead. Run!”

The bots were swarming closer and closer. Tess gave one last look at the sole survivor and sprinted away. She could hear the rattling come closer as she zig-zagged through a maze of nonsensical advertising, finally diving behind a billboard for a D-grade snuff movie.

“About time you got here,” a voice said.

“Aagh!” Tess yelped and looked to see an elderly woman in front of her, holding a sceptre.

The hag raised a finger to her lips. “Yes, I’m The Ghost of TCS Future. Mind keeping it down? I might be deaf but the spambots thrive on attention.”

“You don’t seem surprised to see me,” Tess whispered.

“Surprised?” Future chuckled. “I’ve been waiting in this spot for ten years. I was never really clear how far into the future it was when I met the Ghost.”

“Wait.” Tess stared into Future’s eyes and saw her own looking back. “You’re me.”

“Was I this slow when I was your age?” Future shook her head.

“So at least I survive the bots,” Tess said.

“Who said that?” Future said. “I’m a ghost. You could die now for all you know.”

“At least that would stop me getting those wrinkles.” Tess didn’t want to piss off her guide but Future deserved a retort for that slow remark.

Tess looked back through the gap in the billboard at the increasing swarm of spambots bouncing off each other in search of a victim. “This is why I’m here. I have to continue the war. We have to be more organised. Stop Majestic-12, Baidu and the rest of the terrorists once and for all before this apocalypse happens.”

“No,” Future said. “That’s what you’re doing now, remember? In the original history, you sacrificed everyone to destroy them and you still failed.”

“Did the bots kill me?” Tess asked.

“No. That would be a happier ending,” Future said grimly. “The bots didn’t kill everyone. You did.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Tess said. “I’m saving people.”

“You’re using all your energy to fight the bots. You’ve been exposed to more spam attacks than anyone should. It affected your mental health. Within three years, you became so exposed that you became one of them yourself. You joined the spambots and led the ambush of your own site, attacking your own child. If you keep going at the rate you’re going, well, you saw how young Present was when she became a ghost.”

Tess peeked through the board again and met the eye of a bot. It shrieked and the swarm charged towards her hiding spot. “We’re screwed,” she said.

“No,” Future said. “I’m screwed. Unless you do something about it.” Future put her hand on Tess’ head. The bots rounded the corner and charged. The last thing Tess saw before she awoke was Future being tackled and crashing to the ground.

Tess shot awake at her desk and looked up at the computer screen, now practically empty of spambots in comparison to her last dream. She leapt up and ran to the window, yelling out at the homeless guy sleeping across the street. “You there! What day is this?”

“I dunno,” the drunk rambled back. “Check your computer. The date’s usually on the bottom right corner.”

Tess ran back to her computer and glanced down. It was indeed Christmas Day. She looked at the unsent “humbug” message on the screen and deleted it. She took a hesitant look at TCS and hit the X at the top. The browser closed. Tess let out a deep breath, closed her computer and turned on the television. A news reporter was in the middle of a story.

“The local homeless man, known for breaking into houses for his own amusement, was found dead this evening in his regular campsite. He will be missed by locals, who called him a nuisance but a charming one who never hurt the children he spray-painted...”

Tess thought back to Past. He had seemed familiar and she had been fairly sure it was the regular homeless guy. But he had just...

Tess looked back out the window. There was nobody on the street corner but a line of police tape.

The homeless guy shot awake and felt around him. What a ludicrous dream. That was the last time he ate a jar of Nutella before bed. He glanced up at the window of one of his regular break-ins and shook his head. Maybe he should give up trespassing for the time being.

He heard someone next to him. Maybe they’d give him cash for a burger or a locksmith. He looked up to see a man in a cloak. “Who are you?” he asked.

The figure extended his finger. “I’m the Ghost of Christmas Past. Who the hell are you?”
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Re: TCS Secret Santa

Postby Cordslash » Sun Dec 29, 2013 3:30 pm

I forgot to share my awesome Christmas gift so here it is.

A collage of the most exquisite boobs and tits:

http://postimg.org/image/4yhbha2oh/

I happen to know who my Santa was but I'm still pretending it's a secret.

Thanks again "secret" Santa!
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Re: TCS Secret Santa

Postby OrangeEyebrows » Wed Jan 01, 2014 1:36 am

I got this, and I'm leaking from my eye-glands - what does this mean??!

---

Twas the Night Before New Years, when all through the forum,
TCSers had lost all their sense of decorum.
Some of us had gotten lost in the punch,
While others were simply upset about lunch.
Some needed to shout about the meaning of life,
While others were concerned with social strife.
We were starting to worry in Truth or Dare,
But we knew we were safe, because Orange was there.

She brought order to chaos in the Mafia game,
Soothed our Loud Noises without laying blame,
Dusted the Library with great affection,
Published an article with every correction.
Held us all close, because if you're here,
You're certainly in Orange's monkeysphere.
Wiped away our tears and kissed our heads,
and tucked us off safely into our beds.
And when she was done with her tiring day,
Done keeping all of the trolls at bay,
Done with the hugging and holding and treats,
Done with sweeping the TCS streets,
Done with the editing, done with the modding,
Done with the trudging and done with the plodding,
Orange lied down for a well-deserved rest,
Ready to face the next day with zest.

How does she do it? Show up every day,
Ready to help us all on our way,
Ready to give her all for us,
In short: She's simply glorious.
She's super-human, that much I know.
I caught on to that a long time ago.
So here's to a fantastically happy new year,
For the wonderful woman we all hold so dear.
  • 17

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Re: TCS Secret Santa

Postby AboveGL » Wed Jan 01, 2014 1:38 am



A secret santa gift for AboveGL from a very wonderful person who can't quite sing it right now but who adapted the lyrics, a parody of Those Magnificent Men With Their Flying Machines.

Lyrics are:
That magnificent man in a flying machine,
He goes up, tiddly-up-up,
He goes down, tiddly-down-down.
He enchants all the ladies and he leaves them in awe
As he parachutes down and lands splat on the floor.

Stands up, staggers around,
Topples back over and lies on the ground
He’s so frightfully keen
When he parachutes out of his flying machine.

He can float upside down with his feet in the air
He can zoom through the sky without worry or care
Newton would think he had made a mistake
To see our GL and the chances he takes.

That magnificent man in his flying machine,
He goes up, tiddly-up-up,
He goes down, tiddly-down-down.
He has wit he has charm and he’s awfully cute
Our beloved GL with his own parachute

Up! Down! Flying Around.
Looping The Loop And Defying The Ground.
He’s so frightfully keen
When he parachutes out, When he parachutes out, When he parachutes out of a fly--ing ma--chine!


Spoiler: show
I nearly had tears of joy. That's made my New Year's.
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Re: TCS Secret Santa

Postby ButtChocolate » Fri Jan 03, 2014 4:59 pm

After having been away for a week or so, when I logged on to TCS yesterday afternoon, I was greeted by this truly amazing gift in my PM box:

Spoiler: show
The ButtChocolate Advent Calendar



A light snow gently dusted the cobblestones, illuminated by the gentle glow of Christmas lights. Laughter filled the crisp wintry air as the townsfolk gathered to hear carolers and wish each other Merry Christmas. Truly it was the season of goodwill to all men. But suddenly a door swung open and the townspeople gasped as a sword-wielding man leapt through.
“Oliver Cromwell!”
“That’s right! And with my army of puritan Bionicles I’m here to put a stop to Christmas once and for all! Mwahahahaha!”

***


“ButtChocolate, honey, are you down there playing with your legos again? Why don’t you come upstairs? It’s Christmas Eve, after all.”
“Bah humbug! What has Christmas ever done for me? Why, ‘tis only a sham; a time of a year when men put on a false shell of jollity and lust after presents to mask their emptiness. And it was invented by greeting card companies! Nazi greeting card companies!”
“Fine then, stay in the basement all Christmas, see if I care. It hasn’t even been properly established who I am, so it’s entirely possible that I don’t.”

As the mysterious, possibly-a-woman slammed the basement door, BC sighed and knelt down to look for his lego blunderbuss, which had rolled under the table. As he groped around, occasionally stopping to giggle about the word “groped,” his hands felt a strange cardboard box.
An advent calendar! It looked ancient, too. That was just typical of Christmas consumerism. People spent money on a perfectly good advent calendar and then never bothered to use it. Still, there was no reason for it to go to waste---he’d read somewhere that chocolate never went bad. Or was that sharks? If you were being attacked by a shark, you had to get it drunk, which you could do with chocolate liqueurs because they never went bad. Yeah, that sounded right!

But when BC opened the first little door, he was surprised to see, not chocolate, but a tiny picture of a hobo, gathering jars of urine for the winter. And somehow it seemed like the picture was getting bigger and bigger and…and realer! Until suddenly it wasn’t a picture anymore, but a living, breathing, smelling person.

“I am the spirit of the advent calendar. Er…woooooo!”
“No, you’re a homeless man and you’re in my house.”
“Shuuuuuut uuuuuuup! Woooooooo. I have come to deliver a terrible warning! Woooooooooooooooo!”
BC waited 30 or 40 minutes. “Well, what is it?”
“What?”
“The warning!”
“Oh. Tonight you shall be visited by 31 ghosts!”
“What?! That is an insanely high number of ghosts. Do you at least count as one?”
“Noooooooo! Now seriously shut up, first ghost’s here.”

Suddenly a bright orange light filled the room. It was emanating from the eyebrows of a mysterious woman clothed all in white. “ButtChocolate, I am the Ghost of Christmas That Didn’t Actually Happen In The Past But You Remember That It Did Because Memory Is Inherently Unreliable.”
The homeless ghost interrupted her, “You have to say wooooooo! It’s spooky!”
“Er…woo. Anyway, I am here to show you a vision of your past. Do you remember this Christmas?”

An image appeared of a young ButtChocolate waking up on Christmas morning and running down the stairs only to discover an empty house.
“I…I remember this. My parents were flying to Paris to assassinate Charles SeaGaulle, the popular satirical puppet. We were all supposed to go, but in the confusion I was left behind. I was…Home Alone.”
“And do you remember what happened next?”
“Yes…of course! There were burglars trying to get into the house and I held them off with all sorts of wacky traps and tricks.”
“Except they weren’t burglars at all, were they? They were from Child Services. Your parents had called them from Paris, as any parent would. And you put three of them in the hospital. One guy’s head was literally on fire.”
BC stumbled back. “Oh my God, yes. I had to go to juvie for like a year. I must have repressed the memory. Spirit, do you think that trauma is why I hate Christmas so much?”
The ghost shrugged, “I dunno, whatever. Look, I’ve got to go. We’ve still got 30 ghosts to get through in like half an hour. Peace out, homeslice.”
“Wait, spirit! Tell me what this vision meant!” But the ghost had already faded away, replaced with a spectral cow wearing a crown.
“I am Moo, the Ghost of Christmas Probably Happened In The Past But You Don’t Remember Because You Overdid The Eggnog. Do you remember that adorable red-nosed reindeer who gave you rabies? Wait…shit I think I just spoiled the twist.

***

[13 Ghosts Later]


ButtChocolate nodded. “Thank you Ghost of Christmas False Past Implanted By My KGB Handlers. I now realize that while using my Red Ryder BB Gun to murder the Grinch may well have saved Christmas, it probably also created deep psychological trauma that surfaced years later in my current hatred of the holidays.”
“Uh…if you say so, man. Wanna see a picture of Fornier’s gangrene?”
“No.”
“You’re no fun.”

***

[Seven Ghosts Later]


“ButtChocolate, I am the Ghost of Christmas Past Participle and I…hey, where’d he go?!”
The Ghost of X-men: Days Of Future Past briefly stopped flexing his biceps. “Uh…I think he escaped into the vents. Kept shouting something about how he couldn’t take it anymore and 31 ghosts was way too many.”
“That’s unacceptable. Give me your phone. I’m calling in the Ghost of Christmas Having A British Accent And Taking Over This Building And Basically Being The Baddie From Die Hard…Hi Marcuse, we’ve got a problem.”

***


ButtChocolate stumbled across the roof on bloody feet. The last ghost watched him carefully, while holding a gun pressed to his hostage’s head. BC stopped. “Ok spirit, I’m going to say this one last time. Let go of Santa and nobody gets hurt.”
“Ah BC, it was very clever of you to get past my army of ghosts, especially the Ghost of Christmas Being A Huge Spider and the Ghost of Christmas Terrifying Mirror Demons. But you know I can’t release my hostage until you’ve learned the true meaning of Christmas and stopped being such a Scrooge.”
“What are you talking about?! I did that after the first ghost!”
“D…did you? We kind of assumed you would be a harder sell. Maybe you should be more confident in your opinions. Anyway, how do I know you’re not lying. Prove you love Christmas.”
BC shrugged and pulled out the Christmas cracker taped to his back. “Yippie-kay-yay Mr. Falcon.”

***


ButtChocolate woke up with a start. He had been having the strangest dream. But wait! He still had multiple bullet wounds, bleeding feet, and a hobo snoring in the corner of his basement. It hadn't been a dream after all!
He raced upstairs like an excited child. "Oh I see now! Christmas truly is the most wonderful time of the year! And I've got so much celebrating to do! You there, boy!"
"Hey, I'm 42 ya jerk."
"Run to the shop and buy me the biggest turkey you can find!"
"It's Christmas. Shop's closed."
"Look stop ruining this for me."
"I'll ruin your face for you."
"YOU WANNA PIECE OF ME PUNK! I'M GETTING MY BAT AND I'M GOING TO SMACK YOU BACK TO EASTER!"

***


Over BC's house, the ghosts hovered. "So I think we kind of screwed that one up."
"Yep."
"How do you think he's going to feel about the 400 ghosts who are going to show up to teach him the true meaning of Boxing Day?"
"I'm sure it will be fine."



I sincerely want to say thank you and "Huzzah!" to whoever my Secret Santa was. You have succeeded in replacing "A Colbert Christmas: The Greatest Gift of All." as my new favorite holiday special! The beginning is especially spot on, although for the record the Bionicles are just Duplos, as they belong to my little one and my wife says we have to wait a few years before we can advance to something smaller that won't be a choking hazard any longer. No worries, though- she's confident I'll eventually learn to stop putting the pieces in my mouth...

Thank you Secret Santa... whoever you are...!
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