Once upon a time there was a girl who put up Christmas decorations at the beginning of November. She bought a tree and decorated it, and strung lights around the apartment. She posted endless photos of the setup on Facebook, gushing about how Christmas was her favorite holiday. Her roommate loved the idea as well, believing an extra month of good cheer would bring extra joy and happiness.

"I love Christmas!" the girl said with a squeal, screaming it so she could be heard over the Alvin and the Chipmunks holiday album blasting on the stereo. "I know it's early, but I guess I'm just unique!"

But not everyone was thrilled with her early holiday spirit. Some found it to be rather obnoxious, as if Santa Claus had prematurely ejaculated all over Thanksgiving. Even the kindest of her neighbors had trouble holding their tongues.

"Who the hell does she think she is?" said Bob Goodkind, the girl's neighbor. "When Walmart puts up Christmas decorations in July, it's so they can sell products. That at least makes sense. That has a business reasoning behind it. This girl is just shitbag crazy."

"TURN THAT CRAP OFF!" screamed Samuel L. Nicesome, the girl's other neighbor. "Man, if some girl started celebrating my birthday two months early, I'd get a restraining order. She thinks she can get away with this because she's in college and hasn't gotten fat and ugly yet like the rest of us. Which . . . I mean, she can, but that doesn't make it right."

Alas, Bob and Samuel were too kind to complain directly to the girl, so the tinsel continued sparkling, the candles continued glowing and the Christmas songs about Jesus, kindness to others, logs burning in a fireplace and other things that no longer exist in modern society continued building their presence. A strong pounding of Christmas cheer thumped through her building's walls indefinitely, their cheery tones venturing out further into the darkness each night.

However, not everyone was as nice as Goodkind and Nicesome. There are darker places in this world. In the far reaches of the land, a grim beast had awoken, stirred by these early celebrations. This beast loathes the early Christmas season with every bit of its cold, twisted soul. Every decoration, every song, every card sent a month early claws at its skin, tearing its fragile, deteriorating mind. The beast was angry.

The humbug beast's name was Paul Ryan. People say his heart was as black as a monkey's anus, and twice as cold. They say his deep blue eyes were lifeless and distant, and staring into them was like having a threesome with Kristen Stewart and Ann Coulter. Paul refused to acknowledge Christmas before December 1, and he was eager to ruin the girl's fun.

When the clock struck three in the morning, Paul broke into the girl's apartment. Not in that creepy way that perverts do, though. It was more of an old-fashioned and innocent home invasion, like in How the Grinch Stole Christmas. It was the type of breaking and entering that was commonplace back in the 1950s, before rape got so mainstream.

Dressed all in black, Paul stole every decoration. The tree, the lights, the candles and even the logs from the fireplace. He also took her Xbox 360, a bunch of cash from her purse and an unreasonable amount of Little Debbie snack cakes. I mean, he was there anyway, and if you're going to get arrested for the burglary of 99-cent Christmas decorations, you might as well grab some expensive stuff, too.

In the morning, when the girl awoke, Paul listened outside her window to hear her cry. A sound came and grew louder with each moment, but this sound wasn't sad. Why, she sounded mad. Really pissed, actually. It was pretty amazing.

"Goddamn it, what the hell?" said the girl, punching a dent into a wall. "Somebody stole all our shit! No, I don't care that we can get more Christmas decorations at Target; I'm pissed about the Xbox! Do you know how many times you have to send those new ones back to be fixed before they finally start working? And what kind of shitbag would take all my Little Debbie Zebra Cakes?! You can't even get those in stores! You have to buy 10 boxes at a time off Amazon.com! That stash was supposed to last for like a goddamn year. And where the hell is my weed? Did they take it from my purse? Do you know how long I had to rub up against that greasy-haired guy outside the ghetto Spur gas station before he agreed to sell to me? Ugh! Total dicks!"

Paul walked up to the girl's apartment and knocked on the door. The girl's roommate answered.

"Hey, I'm the one who stole all your stuff," said Paul.

The roommate's face brightened, giving her a lovely glow.

"And you're here to return it, because the spirit of Christmas has caused your heart to grow three sizes larger?!" asked the roommate.

"No, I burned all of it."

"So you've come to apologize then!"

"Nah. I don't think so."

"Why did you come up here, then?"

"To brag about burning your stuff. Christmas starts on December 1, bitches."

With that, Paul turned and left, returning home to search for bikini photos of the redheaded girl who plays Amy Pond on Doctor Who. The girls learned a valuable lesson about overexposing holidays, and never did it again. Also, Paul did not get prosecuted, because he was wearing a Where's Waldo hat during the burglary, and he doesn't usually wear that sort of hat. It was a very apt disguise. The end.