I could never be an architect.

Not that I have a desire to be, or that building gingerbread houses is an adequate way to test my skills, but last night I learned something that I’m absolutely terrible at.

Here is a picture of my first attempt. And sadly that’s the nicer side.

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As you can see it is both pathetic and embarrassing. I quickly discarded my poor structure and began anew.

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Much better. And it came along with a cute little armless snowman named Mr. Marsh. Mr. Marsh works 40+ hours a week for the man. He drives a licorice car with sweet tart wheels, bound together with the strongest of adhesives, vanilla icing.

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Mr. Marsh has been getting steadily unhappy with his carport house, which continues to fall apart. He has remodeled it countless times as walls and ceilings collapse around his fragile life.

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In order to reinforce his walls, Mr. Marsh used the bodies of his dead enemies. Ripping apart their fluffy midsections, he cemented them to the entryway of his home as a warning.

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Little did Mr. Marsh know, that lurking around the corner was the escaped and misunderstood criminal, Sirius Black! Sirius was appalled at the brutality against the marshmallow population, and knew that Mr. Marsh had to be stopped.

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Without even using his wand, Sirius Black took Mr. Marsh and wrestled him (and his car) to the ground. Clutching his white, spongey body in his plastic claw hands, Sirius said farewell to Mr. Marsh.

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The end.

And that’s what I did, because I couldn’t build a gingerbread house. I created a Christmas murder, which is actually really terrible.

So the moral of the story is this: 1) don’t assume that gluing things together with sugar and milk is easy, because it’s not. And 2) never cross Sirius Black. He takes his Citizen’s Patrol job seriously.

Bonus picture: Mr. Marsh as Jay Gatsby.

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And to follow up that fantastic story:



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