Mistcrap in Flipworld
This is a grim Christmas story. If you’re easily upset, please stop reading and go play with your teddy-bears.
We don’t play with teddy-bears. We shoot them, or sometimes we get mauled and eaten. That’s what Flipworld is like. A place where Bob’s your Wicked Uncle
And why is it like that? Because before, it was even worse. Flipworld is one of many unhappy oddities in the Dimensions of Shiftiness. We improved our lives by anchoring our world to yours. But the link was somehow done backwards. We have to reverse everything, or else go floating off back into total chaos.
We try to avoid intruding, unlike some other anchored worlds, but this isn’t kindness or bashfulness. Our existence must be kept secret, because one of us dies every time one of you decided they really do believe in us.
But we could wish you didn’t start talking about Christmas just after Halloween – which for us is a festival of light and beauty, naturally. We dread your ‘season to be merry’. For us there are burdens like feeding the turkeys for all 12 days of Mistcrap. And then we sneak into each other’s houses and maliciously destroy something valuable. And our poor Queen has to listen to a talk from each of the 666 members of our House of Uncommon Bores. Not that it’s the worst of our flipping Festivals: laying eggs for Easter is the one I like least.
Excuse me, I have to go hang myself from the big Christmas Tree in our central square. It won’t be merry, but thankfully I won’t stay dead.