Won’t Eat Them All At Once – Look, I know you said to save some for you, but it was only because you came home late without any food. What was I supposed to do? Cook my own meal? Starve myself? Be reasonable. It was either the chocolate or the can of fish flakes, and those don’t taste nearly as good as they look. So if anything, this wasn’t my fault, it was yours.

I’ll Let You Open One Door – Only one, though, and it can’t be the first ten or the last fourteen. That’s where I draw the line. I wish I could be more flexible on this, but you know how much I love opening the doors. It reminds me of the countless times my father “accidentally” walked in on me while I changed. I’ll think about if you actually get any chocolate but whichever door you get to open it’s totally for you to slam, push, shove, and jam.

I’ll Count Up Instead Of Down – I still think the calendars are meant to be a countdown to Christmas, but I’m willing to swallow my pride and lose this battle if it means you’ll reconsider. Seriously think about it, why would we be counting up to Christmas? There’s no such thing as a count up. Society has been counting down since the beginning of man. No one counted up to the dinosaur-killing asteroid, or Y2K, or even 2012, they all counted– sorry, getting away from the point. I’ll start counting up.

I’ll Stop Doing That Santa Impression You Hate – What? Santa could have a Jersey accent. He would have picked it up delivering coal while getting shot at in Trenton. Fine, I promise no more pretending the calendar’s a ventriloquist dummy when I have my fingers inside Santa’s slot. His juicy red door shall not meet the warm embrace of my delicate fingers anymore but it’s your loss.

I Won’t Get My Member Jammed Stuck In Mrs. Claus’s Door – I swear it was a one-time thing. I just wanted to know if it would fit, and it did, sadly just a little too well. Gah, those paper cuts… I’ll know better for next time—I mean it was completely stupid of me. Pure curiosity, that’s all. Nothing sexual. I mean have you seen Mrs. Claus? Her luscious, silver greying hair peeking out from that tender, supple mop cap, those glasses that just sit barely below her eyes that scream discipline me, and the voluptuous figure hidden underneath the whispers of her Holly berries red dress. Disgusting… How can anyone be attracted to that? Certainly not me… Definitely not…

**ENROLLMENT EXTENDED THRU JAN 23** Interested in making comedy your career? Scott Dikkers, founding editor of The Onion and #1 NYT bestselling author, created Comedy Business School to teach you exactly how to do it through 5 learning modules.