It is that time of year again, time for me to cash in and write a Christmas novel like all of those other novelists and their continually bestselling Christmas Jars, Christmas Boxes, Christmas Sweaters, Christmas Letters, and other assorted Christmas nouns.  

This has become a bit of a tradition here on Monster Hunter Nation, with me releasing excerpts from the Christmas Noun Saga every December. This is our fifth year of badly written Christmas adventure. I would really recommend going back and reading the previous ones first because this thing gets WEIRD.

2008: Young Tim overcomes his hatred of Christmas to battle the Anti-Claus in the Peppermint Thunderdome.

2009: Stabby the Snowman and the Global Warming Power of Love

2010: Rudolf and the Reindeer Seperatists declare jihad on Christmas.

2011: The Christmas Noun gets occupied by the 99%.

As a special bonus for making it five whole years, I want to give my loyal readers a peek behind the curtain so you can see the amount of intensive planning that goes into the creative process of every single Christmas Noun story.

DVD Bonus Feature: The Making of Christmas Noun 5.

Fortress Headquarters of CorreiaTech Interdimensional MegaCorporation.

Yard Moose Mountain, Republic of Utah. Earth #582-T-55455

“So gentlemen, my plans for universal domination are proceeding according to plan…” said the alternative universe version of Larry Correia, CEO of CorreiaTech, the single most powerful entity in all of the multiverse. “Everything except for our annual Christmas Noun story. So what’s the hold up on production, alternative universe Larry Correia, who somehow wound up as a novelist instead of a galactic space pirate?”

“Well, I’ve been busy,” said the alternative universe version of Larry Correia from Earth #582-T-55451 (i.e. this one). “We had another kid this year and—”

“Eh, whatever.” The powerfully corded muscles of his arm rippled dangerously as the CEO waved one great hand dismissively. “I have a harem of beautiful women that takes up half the palace. I’ve got so many kids I had to have my accountants make a spreadsheet to keep track of them.”

“Well, normally I would get started in November, but I was distracted with politics because of the election.”

“So who did your dimension elect as president?”

“Barack Obama.” The novelist had to wait for everyone in the boardroom to quit laughing at him. “Yeah, yeah. I know.”

“Seriously? Man, your universe sucks. We got Adam Baldwin and the Libertarian Space Cowboy Revolution for another term!” The CEO paused to run one hand through his mane of luxurious hair which was so thick and awesome that it was like a cross between an 80s hair metal video and a shampoo commercial. “Okay, so what do you have for me so far, baldy?”

“Well… We’ve got a few problems with the production of this year’s Christmas Noun.” Correia the writer checked his notes. “We’ve had some setbacks. James Cameron was under contract to direct, but he was killed in that freak reindeer accident. Focus groups said they want more dinosaurs and lasers, and hopefully a cameo from Tom Stranger.” Correia the writer paused to nod at Tom Stranger, Interdimensional Insurance Agent, who just happened to be attending the meeting.

“Hello,” said Tom Stranger.

“We tried the grown son angle to take over the franchise for our aging star last year, but that didn’t go over well with the test audiences.”

“That’s the same test audience that liked Honey Boo Boo.” The CEO snapped his fingers with the sound of thunder. “Have them killed.” Several of his minions immediately fled the room to fulfill his merciless bidding. “What else you got?”

Correia the writer swallowed nervously. “When a series is starting to get stale, the best thing to do is bring in the Rock. He’s like bacon bits for movies. Like Fast & Furious… The movie, not the gun running scandal.”

Correia the CEO looked to his Chief Financial Officer. “Wendell?”

Wendell the Manatee was floating peacefully in his tank. “Meew-whooooo.”

“That’s what I thought,” said the CEO. “We can’t afford the Rock. What else do you have for me?”

“Bruce Willis?”

“Meeeeeww-oooooo.” Wendell shook his ponderous bulk in the negative.

“You heard the manatee, Correia.” The CEO threw a handful of lettuce into the CFO’s tank as a reward. The manatee munched away happily. “We need to do something extra big this year. We need a hit.”

“How about we go for nostalgia? It is pretty crazy, but I was thinking of writing it Choose Your Own Adventure style, that way the readers can flip back and forth looking for which ending has the coolest picture, but you can never find the way to that one really badass looking ending with the Vikings and all the hot chicks.”

The CEO looked to his Insurance Agent. “Tom? Are we covered for that sort of thing?”

“That many readers, and that much raw probability could very well tear the fabric of the universe asunder…” Tom Stranger adjusted his bowtie thoughtfully. “Yes. You are covered for that.”

“Excellent. Do it… But I still think we need something extra.” Normally the evil alternative universe version of yourself had a goatee, but in this case, both Larry Correias had goatees, and so the powerful one stroked his goatee thoughtfully. Only his facial hair was more awesome. Sort of like Scott Ian’s from Anthrax, yet somehow even cooler. “Bring me the Critic.”

Some CorreiaTech minions dragged in a man shackled in chains and wearing nothing but rags. “Sir Steven J. Diamond, esquire. Professional Book Critic at your service.”

“Okay, Critic, what’s the hottest selling thing across the multiverse that we can rip off and make serious bank on right now?”

“That would have to be Fifty Shades of Grey, Mr. CEO, your lordship,” said the Critic. “I think, but I’ve been held captive in your torture dungeons ever since I gave your memoirs four stars, so I may be a little out of the loop.”

“It deserved FIVE!” The CEO roared. “Well then. Fifty Shades of Crap it is.”

“That’s just poorly written, grammatically incorrect, highly repetitive, unrealistic bondage porn for dissatisfied housewives!” exclaimed Correia the writer.

“Mewwwooooo,” said Wendel. “Moooooo-gurgle gurgle.”

“I think Wendell speaks for all of us by sharing such profound wisdom,” agreed the book critic.

“Excellent. You heard the manatee. Sex it up. This year’s Christmas Noun will be the S and M’iest Christmas ever. There better be some whips and chains and unrealistic expectations! Excellent. Somebody bring me a hippy to light my cigar on. Dismissed!”

“Who do you think I am? John Ringo? I don’t know how to write that kind of stuff!”

“Then hire some twelve year old boys to ghostwrite those scenes for you. They’ve got horrible imaginations and no understanding of biology or physics to hold them back.”

“Nooooo!” cried Correia the novelist, but it didn’t matter, because the minions were already dragging the poor writer from the boardroom. He continued shouting Noooooooo until they tossed him into the portal back to his dimension.

Correia the CEO laughed maniacally until he was interrupted by one of his minions. “Uh… Sorry, sir, but on that whole ‘have them killed’ order, did you mean the test audience or did you mean the cast of Honey Boo Boo?”

“The test audience of course. Why?”

“Uh… Whoops. Jerry fired up the Death Wombat without clarifying that first.” The minion shrugged. “Sorry?”

“But Honey Boo Boo is the Chosen One.” It was rare to see the CEO of CorreiaTech rattled. “The Mayan prophecy will be fulfilled! The end is at hand. You fool! You’ve doomed us all!”

Tom Stranger sighed. “I’ll get the claim paperwork started.”

“Mewwhoooooooo,” stated Wendell as he chewed his lettuce ominously.


Now we present you with excerpts from the forthcoming Christmas Classic, THE CHRISTMAS NOUN 5: Fifty Shades of Noun, Choose Your Own Adventure Edition.

Directed by Ang Lee. Soundtrack by Bjork.  


“Merry Christmas everyone!” said Tim as he passed out presents to all of the underprivileged orphans. “May the spirit of the Christmas Noun smile upon you this merry holiday season.” Tim wiped the sweat of his manly brow with his Santa hat. “Well, that’s all of the presents.”

“Good work, Tim,” said Santa Claus. “You got saving Christmas out of the way early this year.”

“Yeah. Those Christmas Draculas were no match for the power of the Christmas Noun and my Black Tiger Kung Fu. It’s just too bad that Sally Love-Interest couldn’t be here to enjoy it with me.” He paused to wipe away a solitary manly tear.

Santa shook his jolly head sadly. “Ho Ho Ho, Tim. You have my sincerest condolences that she contracted a rare case of Plot Necessary Death.” He patted Tim on the shoulder. “Especially since she had just been replaced with a younger, hotter actress last year in an attempt to boost ratings.”

“I know, Santa. I know… I’m afraid that I’ll just have to go off and be alone now. Especially since I’m a twenty seven year old, billionaire, philanthropist, fighter pilot, lawyer, doctor, astronaut, kung fu master, with rock hard abs and chiseled good looks, but I’m now hopelessly psychologically broken and need a loving and sexy hand to be put back together.”

“I think of you like a son, Tim,” Santa said. “So what you just said kind of creeped me out a little bit. But don’t worry. I’m sure there is some needy woman representing the wish fulfillment of ten million frustrated Twilight fan housewives out there looking for someone like you to fix.”

If you want Tim to go fight dinosaurs with lasers on their heads to save Christmas, turn to page 2.

If you think Tim should go pick up slutty chicks, turn to page 3.

If you are curious how Tim is all of those awesome things now, but he was an ex-con in the first episode, and how the heck is he only 27, when he had a grown son last episode, shut up because nobody likes a whiner, then turn to page 4.

From Page 2

Tim had suspected saving Christmas had been a little too easy this year, and he realized just how right he’d been when the diplodocus lumbered down the street. Now, Tim was no stranger to kung fu fighting all manner of weirdness on Christmas, but this was the first time he’d fought a dinosaur. The laser beams attached to its head were a nice touch.

If you want Tim to mediate this conflict in a non-violent manner by seeking out a mutually beneficial solution for all parties, turn to page 7.

If you want Tim to bust out some friggin’ awesome weaponry and put boot to dinosaur ass, turn to page 10.

From Page 3

“Well hello there,” Tim said to the woman as she arrived at the job interview for his new assistant Christmas saver. He looked over her resume. “So tell, me Ms. Wish-Fullfillment, why do you think you’d make a good personal assistant to me?”

“Please, just call me Anastasia.” She blushed and bit her lip.

“Anastasia Wish-Fullfillment.” Tim began to tear up a little. “I’m sorry. My dead wife had a hyphen in her last name too. I’m afraid that though I’m really good looking, and I’m super awesome at quite literally everything, I’m emotionally damaged in an easily correctable manner. So please forgive me if I suddenly get all emotional and passionate like.”

“Oh, I understand. I’m totally sheltered, completely naïve, and inexperienced about everything in life.” She blushed furiously and bit her lip furiously. “But despite my relative inexperience, I’m sure I’ll do all sorts of freaky stuff at the drop of a hat.”

“Okay. Cool.” Tim made a note on her resume. The note said HOT! But then he scribbled that out, because the HR manager didn’t like when he did that. Stupid Department of Labor and their lawsuits… “What other Christmas saving skills do you have?”

“Well, despite the fact I’m like a totally sheltered and naïve college student, I’m also a master at knot tying, acrobatics, stretching, pole dancing, country swing, trapeze… Let’s see, I’m a world champion bull rider. I can hold my breath for like eight minutes, and I carry a riding crop in my purse. You know… for emergencies.” She bit her lip sensuously and blushed purple.

“A little scary… So what’s with that lip thing and blushing weird colors? That’s just odd. It’s like you’re being written by somebody too hamfisted to give their characters realistic mannerisms. I mean seriously, if old women want to read porn, there’s plenty of well written and grammatically correct porn out there to choose from. It’s not like you have to settle for badly written trash.”

“Oh Tim!” Anastasia threw caution to the wind and gave in to her throbbing passions by displaying her heaving bosoms. “Let me fix your mental imbalance with acts of unspeakable passion illegal in several states!”

If you are just now realizing that Larry Correia has no business writing porn turn to page 2.

If you are the kind of person that can’t look away from a car wreck, and has to stop and gawk at the horror, turn to page 6.

From Page 4

Okay. I get it. None of this makes any sense. I am being held in this pit and forced to write Christmas books against my will. If you get this note, send for help. Please… For the love of all that’s holy, I don’t want to write Christmas stories anymore. Shhh… Don’t let him hear you.


Oh no! Buffalo Bill is back. Run. Hurry! Get help! Go! Go now!


Run! Run!


But you were too slow, and just like all of those Choose Your Own Adventure books you read as a kid where weird plot elements just came out of nowhere, like unicorns and crap, you tripped like an idiot, got captured by a serial killer, and he used your ears to sew into his new ear-suit.

The End.

From Page 6

Larry Correia had called in all sorts of favors to arrange the clandestine meeting at an Applebees in Tennessee. “Okay, John. You won a Romance Award. You’re my only hope. Please. I’ll totally owe you one. Just help me with these couple of nasty scenes for the Christmas Noun 5. Here’s the script.”

Super Author of Everything John Ringo took the script suspiciously and looked it over. He groaned. “This is terrible. That’s not even how that contraption works… I mean, seriously, with what you’ve got them doing with those straps could kill somebody. And you got the part with the oxen entirely wrong. The oxen have to be tame.

Correia shrugged. “I didn’t know. The instructions were in German. I just got confused.”

“This scene is so bad it makes me ashamed of words.” John Ringo scowled as he continued reading. “And really, Anastasia’s probably pretty flexible, but this part isn’t even anatomically possible. Damned amateurs.” He took out a red pen and started making corrections. “Here. Read this.”

Correia read the corrections and blushed furiously. “I can’t put this on the internet. My mom reads this blog.”

“I’m just getting warmed up. Check out the thing in the next paragraph with the Christmas lights.”

“Oh, John Ringo, no.”

“Put your big girl panties on and let me show you how it’s done.” Ringo took back the script. “Order some mozzarella sticks, newb. We’re going to be here for a while.”

If you want to read the super nasty scene with Tim, Anastasia, the weird 220 volt thing from Germany, and the tame oxen, put on your 3-D glasses and your leather riding boots, and turn to Page 11-51.

If you are now too ashamed to continue and Christmas has been ruined forever, you should see what the recommendation for Oprah’s Book Club is this week, turn to Page 52.

From Page 7

“Seriously? Non-violent conflict resolution and mediation? Why the hell are you reading a Larry Correia novel? It’s a freaking dinosaur… Okay, fine. Whatever. I’ll give it a shot. You’re the boss.” Tim said, before muttering under his breath. “Idiot.”

The diplodocus roared incoherently as it stepped on a nearby car. Then it saw the flashing red laser dot emanating from the laser on its head, got really excited, and started to chase it in a big circle, sort of like a 50 ton puppy.

You do not want to stand too close to a 50 ton puppy. SPLAT.

The End. Man. You suck at this.

From Page 10

The ensuing dinosaur fight was absolutely epic, filled with kung fu bad-assery, and more guns than the Expendables. Man. That was sweet. It was all like pow pow POW! BOOM! Rooooooar! Finally, Tim was able to run up the dinosaur’s back, grabbed it by the laser, and then used it to chop the dinosaur’s head off with its own laser. It then slammed into the ground and slid to a stop, all slow mo dramatic like.

Tim hopped off the dinosaur as it slowly slid to a big dead halt. “Now that’s more like the Christmas I know and love.” He high fives you. The action scene was so cool that you can actually feel the high five through the screen.

If you want Tim to go pick up slutty chicks now, turn to page 3

If the dinosaur fight was so freaking awesome, you want to do it again, turn to page 10

From Page 11-51





From Page 52

“Oh, what luck,” Anastasia said as they sat down in Oprah’s live studio audience. “We’re on one of Oprah’s Favorite Things Episodes.”

“What’s that supposed to be?” Tim asked sullenly, since Anastasia was pretty high maintenance and starting to get on his nerves… Not to mention all of those rug burns.

“It’s when she gets all drunk on power and gives out things like cars so that all of her followers continue to worship her like some sort of benevolent demigod.”

“Yeah…” Tim made a buzzing noise with his mouth. “Oh look at that. I’ve got a text from Santa.” He pretended to look at his phone. “Yep. Christmas Noun is like totally in danger.”

“From what now?” Anastasia asked.

“Uh… Army of Nut Crackers.”

“I’ve got one of those in my purse!”

“Yeah… Well… Okay, I’m out. Gotta run.”

“But, Tim, wait!”

“I’ll totally call you,” Tim shouted as he used his grappling hook gun to pull himself through a skylight. Tim ran for his life and didn’t look back.

But Anastasia was too excited to notice, because Oprah had come out on stage.

“And you get a honey badger! And you get a honey badger!” Oprah shrieked as the audience went wild. “Look under your seat, because everybody gets a rabid honey badger!”

And Anastasia and the entire Oprah studio audience were torn apart by honey badgers, because honey badgers really do care about Christmas.


From Page 115

Christmas was nearly over, and Tim had used the Power of the Christmas Noun to save the day again, but he wasn’t feeling particularly heroic. He had gone back to his Black Tiger Kung Fu Dojo and Mall Santa Academy for Inner City Youths, alone and missing Sally Love-Interest, and was busy cleaning dinosaur blood off of his samurai sword when there came a rustle from the fireplace.

Tim lifted his samurai sword. “Santa? That you?” Always paranoid, Tim approached the fireplace cautiously.

Suddenly a completely average looking man in a neat suit and bowtie came neatly down the chimney.  Tim swung the sword, but the man simply blocked it with an invisible energy shield. “Please, Tim. There is no need for violence, and your dimension’s low tech weapons are no match for a CorreiaTech energy shield.”

“Who are you?” Tim demanded. “Start explaining, jackass, while I go get something stabbier.”

“I’m Tom Stranger.” The man handed over a business card. “Stranger and Stranger Interdimensional Insurance. You have a policy with us.”

“Yeah… I got the Christmas Noun insured last year.” Tim had almost forgotten about it.

“Not just that, Tim. You got our comprehensive plan, and I’ve got good news for you. That also covers acts of Plot Necessary Death.” Tom stepped out of the way, revealing somebody else awkwardly trying to make her way down the chimney. “Hmm…. It would appear she’s gotten stuck.”

“Sally Love-Interest?”

“Hrmmph, hfmrump, uck!” Sally exclaimed from inside the chimney.

“Indeed,” Tom Stranger agreed.  “Remember, you’re in Strange Hands with Stranger and Stranger.”

Tim went over and grabbed onto the kicking ankles. Sally always did have a knack for getting stuck in things like mailboxes, escalators, washing machines, etc. It took a few good tugs but he got her freed from the chimney. “Oh Sally! You’re alive!”

“Yes, Tim. It turns out that I didn’t have Plot Necessary Death. The author felt really bad for you so he changed that so I was just in a Plot Necessary Coma! Now I’ll be around for Christmas Noun 6!”

So Tim and Sally had a merry Christmas after all, until the world ended on the last day of the Mayan calendar because Honey Boo Boo was unable to defeat the Reptoid invaders as the prophecy foretold.


Thus ends another year of the Christmas Noun. Merry Christmas to the Monster Hunter Nation.

Geeky Hobbies: Sunday Afternoon Painting
My eBooks are going to be on the Kindle Store


  1. Genius. Just genius. And I… will never, so long as I live, pick up or go near any copy of 50 Shades. Ever ever ever. Trashy has its place, sure, but WELL WRITTEN trashy.

  2. i think your insane. though i liked it so i suppose i’m also insane. maybe your the reason i am insane?

  3. There are many, many reasons why I love you in a TOTALLY platonic, non-stalker, no-TRO-needed kind of way – and this story is just another addition to the list. Simply stated – your writing makes me happy!!!

    Merry Christmas to all the happy residents of Yard Moose Mountain!!

    War Eagle!


    1. You beat me to it. Although at this point – if I couldn’t get the Baldwin ‘verse – I’d settle for a dimension where we elected John Ringo instead of Obama.

      If nothing else, we’d have not only saner foreign and domestic policy, but better-written sadomasochistic erotica (with less literary pretensions and more gunplay) as a bonus.


  4. I had to read page 10 about fifteen times because it was just that awesome. You have restored my faith in the Christmas Noun series. Thank you. (I think)

  5. Was reading this during a boring lecture. Got to the part about Oprah and the Honey Badgers. I nearly died holding in the laughter.

  6. Oh. Dear. G-d…

    How can I put this politely? Oh, yes: Regarding your entire Christmas Noun Series – I’d buy it (with real money, too).

  7. Larry, I love you, man. My favorite part was the “John Ringo guest spot”. (is it bad that I actually *read* that in his voice?). Keep up the good work!
    {and for the record? some ladies at my day job were reading 50 shades. I loaned them Ghost, cause good porn has a plot.}

  8. Nothing has ever filled me with Christmas cheer like the idea of Oprah and her studio audience being eaten by rabid honey badgers. Merry Christmas!

  9. Next year, J. Ringo can help you write “The Last Santa” ….

    The Last Santa will expose the evil behind reality tv and talkshows. Hopefully with more honey badgers and agents from the agency that is so secret that nobody’s ever heard of it.

    I am your Santa, and Christmas Shall Not Fall !!!

  10. Merry Christmas to all! Thanks for this wonderful fan service Larry, it was great to see Tom Stranger AND John Ringo AND my boss all in the same story.

  11. Wow! Spit-take alert on the “Oh, John Ringo, no!”. I’m still giggling…and REALLY looking forward to your collaboration; I’m totally buying it.

  12. Ah, the Christmas Noun returns, bringing crazy @*% joy all ’round. ^^

    Adam Baldwin as president… okay, that does sound cool.

    Wait… oxen?! o.O

    Also, is it just me, or are all Mr. Correia’s alternates more awesome than him?

  13. Just found this (where the hell have I been?!) and laughed so hard the neighbors came to check on me.


  14. Can I just comment on out absurd and out-of-character this book was? There’s no way John would meet at an Applebees when there are perfectly good Hooters restaurants around.

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