The Multiverse is F'd, Y'all; Wednesday, Second Period [12/13].

[somethingwithturquoise]

Tempting as it was to stay very true to the title of the class and introduce everyone to the universe where people celebrated Blumbus instead of Christmas, she decided that maybe ritualistic mating and cannibalism of young males was a little...heavy for this time of year, so, instead, they were getting Ruben.

Who was Ruben, you may ask? Well, at the moment, he seemed like just a giant unkempt old man in a Santa suit floating above your basic-ass suburban USA street all decked out for Christmas, but Summer was about to explain further.

"Once upon a time," she started, "in my dimension, this guy," she pointed up to the giant disheveled Santa overhead, "had a anatomy-based theme park built inside of him that went haywire to the point where he exploded and that is an actual Christmas memory I have, it was disgusting, it was pre-Fandom, it's the kind of story to show you how this class title is not fucking around and why nothing about this place has really phased me all that much. But, anyway, I thought about using today to look at some alternate Christmases in different dimensions, one of which includes a murderous robot Santa and a shocking amount of them including some outsider trying to come in and change it in some way, only to be taught an important lesson about the importance of the holiday, buuuuut I already had this sim in the Danger Shop from when I taught it ages ago, so we're sticking with that.

"And if you want, we can talk about different dimensions' Christmases, but mostly, it's an excuse to hang out in a really gross amusement part built inside a guy that really did happen, don't try to think about it too much, just repeat to yourself the name of this class, and we're all good. Merry Christmas!"

Rube Goldberg and You, Wednesday, December 13, 2023

[meepmeepmeep]

Were Rube Goldberg machines and a truly ridiculous number of little candles a disaster ready to happen? Absolutely, which was why Beaker was already covered in flame-retardant foam by the time class arrived.

"Meep meep meep meep," the foam said. "Meep meep mee!--" a felt hand came out of the foam to gesture at the whiteboard's instructions of "INFILTRATE AND REPORT BACK ON WEAKNESSES OF MAKERS SPACE WHILE AT HOLIDAY PARTY. DON'T TELL ANYONE THIS SECRET PLAN."--and then gestured to the other whiteboard, which read, "SET FIRES FOR SCIENCE! TROUBLESHOOT THE SELF-LIGHTING CHRISTMAS TREE."

Somewhere Travis had a blazing (heh) headache called Beaker starting riiiiiiight about now.