JORDAN: Yeah, she hated my guts.
JARED: Mine too.
MARC: She thought I was OK.
ERIC: If she’s still around, we should totally say hi. Yanno, for the Christmas spirit and whatever.
MAMA STAAL: but one of you needs to stay and help me and your dad carve up this donkey.
ERIC: There’s only one fair way to decide. ONE. TWO. THREE. NOT IT!
JORAD: NOT IT!
MARC: NOT IT!
JORDAN: Sucker! Looks like you’re tying some bungholes tonight!
(MARC, JORDAN, and ERIC load into a car and are at a spooky looking house on a hill. They ring the doorbell.)
ERIC: Hellllooooo? Mrs. Guildman?
JORDAN: I want to say sorry for that time I gave you a milk and raw chicken stink bomb.
MARC: You inspired me to be better at hockey, because I could never get addition right!
JORDAN: I’m also sorry for that time II loaded you car full of cow shit. That was not cool.
MYSTERIOUS FIGURE: You don’t have to worry. Mrs. Guildman isn’t here anymore.
MARC: Who the hell are you?
ERIC: Are you a ghost?
JORDAN: It’s a burglar! He’s gonna burgle Mrs. Guildman! Everyone duck! (JORDAN takes out a pistol he has hidden on his person and fires several rounds.)
ERIC: WHERE DID YOU GET A GUN?
JORDAN: It was a gift from Geno Malkin. Some special Russian Mafia thing.
MYSTERIOUS FIGURE: DAMMIT! And I was just off IR again!
JORDAN: Wait….I remember that voice….
COLBY ARMSTRONG: it’s me—Colby Armstong!
MARC: Wait—you play with the Leafs. What are you doing here?
ARMSTRONG: Sometimes I sublet Mrs. Guildman’s place while she’s in Florida. There are time during the season I need some peace and quiet.
ERIC: Wait a second…if Jordan shot you in the face, how are you still talking?
JORDAN: I know him. His gigantic nose stopped the bullet for him.
ARMSTRONG: Screw you guys, my nose is fine! I mean, I’m bleeding a little, but whatever.
MARC: IT’S A CHRISTMAS MIRACLE!
ERIC: What, that Jordan shot something and hit it?
JORDAN: Screw you guys. Hey Army, wanna head back to my mom’s for donk—I mean, uh, venison and Christmas dinner?
ARMSTRONG: Oh, heck yes.
MARC: God bless us, everyone!