Alright, so this is pretty much the worst thing I’ve ever created as a human being. Enjoy! Bold is to signify actions, just in case no one put those two pieces together.
Lindsay was wearing a Christmas hat, Lightning was kissing his muscles, Jo was wearing gray sweatpants and glaring at Lightning, Sam was playing on his Game Guy, Heather and Alejandro were, like, fondling or something, Sierra was texting Cody, Jo was wearing gray sweatpants, Duncan was in handcuffs and standing besides two parol officers, Cameron was being fugly and putting ornaments on a tree with Gwen, Jo was wearing gray sweatpants, Courtney was being rude because I couldn’t think of something for her to do while everyone else is enjoying themselves. Isn’t it kinda freakin’ wack that Heather’s enjoying her Christmas and Courtney isn’t? Anyway, Scott’s grubbing on Christmas ham, and Mike and Zoey are putting the star on the tree, because they’re really, really annoyingly sappy. Chris and Chef are hanging under the mistletoe (hubba hubba)
Every camper down in Muskoka liked Christmas a lot, but Mal, one of Mike’s multiple personas, did not. Mal hated All-Stars, the whole entire season. Why he hated Christmas, however, there really isn’t a reason. It could be perhaps that his story arc was too tight. It could be his head wasn’t really shaped all that right. But I think that the most likely reason of may be that the writers’ imagination is two sizes too small. But, whatever the reason, his plot or his head, he hyperventilated into commission, while Mike was resting in bed. Staring at Cameron’s horribly disfigured face, with a maniacal grin, the unfortunateness that anyone should stare at such an ugly design is really such a sin.
“I’ve returned to Mike’s body!” he exclaimed with a sneer. “Just in time for Christmas, it’s practically here!”
Then chuckled loudly, as his fingers began drumming.
“I must find some way to keep Pahkitew from coming! For, tomorrow, I know all those lame girls and boys, will go over their contract, where Chris will prepare one of his ploys. And then! Oh, the ploys! Oh, the ploys! Ploys! Ploys! Ploys! There's one thing I hate! All the PLOYS! PLOYS! PLOYS! PLOYS!”
Mal steamed with fury, his motivation unclear. Was he trying to stop Christmas, or Pahkitew, a season he won’t even be near?
“Then the campers, young and old (even though they’re all the exact same age), will sit down to a feast. And they'll feast! And they'll feast! And they'll FEAST! FEAST! FEAST! FEAST! And then they'll do something I hate most of all! Every camper down in Muskoka, the tall and the small, they’ll stand close together, being written so terribly that any sane person would develop tumor, they’ll stand hand and hand, as the viewers at home are supposed to be wowed by toilet humor. And they'll fart! And they'll fart! And they'd fart! fart! FART! FART!”
And the more Mal thought about the possibility of another egg butt, the more Mal felt a sense of indigestion rise up into his gut.
“Why, for two whole seasons I’ve put up with this now, even though it was technically one whole season since TD seasons are supposed to be 26 episodes not a lazy ass THIRTEEN. I must stop Pahkitew from coming, but how?”
Then he got an idea, an awful idea. Mal got an awful, but at the same time kind of risky because there’s a number of circumstances that could follow such a risky plan. Idea.
“I know just what to do,” Mal thought right off the bat. “I’ll design a Santy Claus coat, along with a hat!” He chuckled and schemed, “What a fortuitous trick! With my plan in action, I’ll look just like Saint Nick! Even though according to Cartoon Network religion is not permitted to be mentioned and must be censored to something more appropriate.”
Mal began to make clothes from fabric in the Craft Services Tent. Yeah, remember that? Glad we saw that again after Island. NOT.
You’re indifferent, Mike or Mal. I guess you’re kind of bad.
You try some evil tactics but they just make viewers mad.
Mike or MAAAAL. The only actual person you’ve affected was Zoey and all you did was make her mood slightly more saaaad.
You’re mediocre, Mike or Mal. Why do you exist?
You’re not a good antagonist, you’re as awful as the twists.
MIKE OR MAAAAAAAAAAAAAL. The only physical injury you’ve ever put on a person was when you GRABBED AL’S WRIST.
“Now all I need is a reindeer.” Mal looked around. But since reindeer aren’t in Canada, even though fire-breathing goats are perfectly accepted, there were none to be found. Did that stop Mal? Hah! Yeah. He stepped on a nail and had to go to the store to get antibiotics for his injury. But when he came back he simply said, “If there’s no reindeer around, I’ll kidnap one instead.” So he dragged his buddy Cam out of his bed, and stuck two antlers on the side of his head.
“Mike, I don’t think this is such a good idea!” came a whine from Cam. The audience should’ve felt sympathetic for this character, but really, nobody gave a damn. Mal slapped Cameron on the side of the head, “Quiet, you whiner!” he said, as he whistled in B Minor. Then Mal shouted “Giddyap!” as Cameron mushed, but the sleigh ran him over, and his whole body was crushed. So, instead, Mal just walked out the door. What did he even need Cameron and a sled for?
The contestants were sleeping, Mal’s plan, they were not aware. Say, if this story is after All-Stars, how come Wawanakwa is still there? Well, TD’s continuity isn’t even good. If they don’t keep up with their story, there’s no reason I should.
Mal stood outside of the girls’ cabin. “This is stop one.” He was ready to cause mischief just for the fun. He entered the cabin, without making a sound. He picked up Gwen’s diary and threw it on the ground. Suddenly, Santa popped in, with a look of anger on his face. “Mal, what on earth are you doing wrecking this place?!”
“Don’t you see, dear Santa?” Mal asked with a snicker, “I’m busting everyone’s valuables, to make the plot thicker.”
Suddenly, God entered the cabin as well, “Mal, this stuff isn’t even that bad. I’m not sending you to Hell.” Mal pointed at God, “Well, how do I earn my name on your naughty list?” God shrugged, “I don’t know. Steal your friends’ Christmas gifts. I’m sure they’d be pissed.” Mal gave God and Santa a thumbs up, as those two walked away. Mal gave a deviously look at the sleeping females, for his new plan came to stay.
He slipped right by Gwen, and stole her new sketch pad. He stole Lindsay’s nail polish, which he thought was pretty rad. He stole Sierra’s Cody doll, which he had to swipe out of her hands with much brutality. And for Zoey, he stole her only Christmas wish: An actual personality.
You’re not intimidating, Mike or Mal. You have a gap between your teeth.
You were beaten by the bland and boring powers of the sweet.
MIKE OR MAAAAAAAAAAAAL. Your design is equivalent to the image of a HOMELESS MAN’S FEET.
You’re an awful character, Mike or Mal. You don’t deserve a song.
You won an All-Stars season where you really don’t belong.
MIKE OR MAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAL. For anyone who believes this character isn’t offensive, your OPINION IS WRONG.
He entered the boys’ cabin, and snagged their stuff too. He took Duncan knife, Sam’s game, even DJ’s homemade stew. Yeah, I don’t know why DJ’s there either. Mal bagged all the belongings, full of glee. “Now all I need to claim is the Christmas tree.”
As Mal took the tree and tossed it on the back of Chef’s tractor, he heard a small voice, which sounded like a can in a trash compactor. Mal turned to the sound, and saw the Mary Sue. Why, it was his girlfriend Zoey, who had the brains of someone the age of two.
Mal lifted an eyebrow, “Hey, Zoey, do you recognize me?” Zoey gasped, “You’re Santa Claus! That, anyone could see!” Mal lowered his enthusiasm, “I’m not Santa, I’m Mal!” Zoey gave a hearty laugh, “No, Santa, you’re my PAL!!!!!!!!!!”
Mal rolled his eyes, then patted her head. He said no more, as he knew Zoey was braindead. And as Zoey went back to bed, Mal continued his schemes. Shouldn’t the cabins be arranged for the teams?
You disgust me, Mike or Mal. I can’t stand both of you.
I’d like to give a swift kick to your throat with my spiked shoes.
MIKE OR MAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAL. Not only do you have the unfortunate privilege of being an extension of Mike’s character, but you’re also a COMPLETE VILLAIN STU.
I hate you, Mike AND Mal. I hope you get a heart attack.
Your eyes give you the appearance that you are addicted to crack.
MIKE AND MAL………… DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE.
It was a quarter of Dawn, all the campers were still asleep. Mal had one person to visit, and that was CHRIS THE CREEP. Mal pulled out a key, and used one of Chris cruisers. He traveled all the way over to Playa Des- Chris’s cottage. Mike walked quickly up the flight of stairs, as he nearly fell, and stole Chris’s last bottle of McLean-Brand hair gel. “Peeeerrfect,” muttered Mal, as he began laughing, “They’re finding out now that no Christmas is happening! They’ll all whimper and cry about the season, they’ll shout with anger and point me out for treason!”
As Mal held out an ear and stood in the snow, he did hear a sound, and it started to grow. But this sound wasn’t mad. In fact, this sound sounded… glad! Every contestant in Wawanakwa, the tall and the small, were celebrating Christmas, and that they wouldn’t be in Pahkitew at all. He hadn't stopped Christmas from coming! It came! In a stupid corny way, it came just the same! And Mal, who was filled with anger instead of glee, wondered to himself, “How could this be? It came without nail polish! It came without sentiment! It came without art books, stew, and character development!” And as Mal pondered, he came to a conclusion. He was a terrible villain, there was no confusion. Maybe Mal just wasn’t the character arc we needed to see. Maybe Mike, perhaps, was enough to make us peeved. With a large breath, Mal returned to Mike. Mike jumped for joy, as the camp grounds he hiked.
Outside the cabins, everyone threw a party. Zoey turned to Mike, as her eyes were very hearty (?). Mike kissed Zoey, and he said, “Zoey, we’re both terrible characters, let’s just put this to bed!” Zoey nodded in agreement, and hugged her boyfriend. Everyone clapped for the two, while this special comes to an end. Chris looked with lust at Jo’s gray pants. Chris licked his lips nervously, realizing he wasn’t only into plants. Jo grabbed Chris’s hand, as the two took to the mess hall. Chris felt nervous; he began to stall. “I’m a bit on edge, this is all so sudden.” Jo put a finger up to Chris’s lips, “Just let it happen.” Jo pressed her lips against Chris, as he did the same, although he enjoyed it, Chris felt ashamed. Jo was underage, he felt like a creep. He realized what he was doing, and hopped in his jeep. Jo ran out to him, and grabbed onto his wrist. She called out, “My love, you can’t just leave me like this.” Chris bit her neck one last time, “My dear, I’m afraid this is too severe a crime.” Chris drove off, as a high-speed pace. All that was left behind was Jo, with a tear running down her face.
So Total Drama may not be a perfect show, but it still has a chance to return to what we know. Maybe Pahkitew will have wonders to bring. My Christmas wish is that season six does just that thing. Welcome Christmas while we stand. Heart to heart and hand in hand.
All the campers lived happily ever after. Except for Cameron, who died of a concussion two weeks later.