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[verypointed]

[The last Thanksgiving dessert pie hasn't even been cleaned out yet, and already something is astir in camp. Small flat boxes are falling from the sky, pounding loudly on cabin rooftops and littering the campgrounds and floating in the duck pond. Upon closer inspection, they're advent calendars, with a little note attached to them: "31 more days

Comments

[flylittlepony]

[one hits her on the head, startling her into the conveniently adjacent bush. after a bit she pokes her head out, inspects the box for a bit looking all kinds of confused, before suddenly squealing and jumping back into the foliage]

C-chocolate rain?!

[flylittlepony]

Oh I do hope so.

[coreofthematter]

Count on it, sugarcube!

[coreofthematter]

[...and then a certain pony gets bonked in the head by a falling advent calendar. thanks for the distraction from feelings, camp.]

I-in the meantime, why don't we try avoidin' the chocolate rain...

[flylittlepony]

Probably a good idea. [running]

[coreofthematter]

[shaking off the hit and running toward the hoofstead. safety!!]