Harold the Hippopotamus Wants a Human for Christmas
By Shane B

Page 1
In the sweltering marshlands of southern Nowhereville, Harold the Hippopotamus twirled a candy cane in his left nostril. It was December 24th, which meant only one thing: Christmas magic was in the air—and possibly radioactive fog from the nearby taco factory. Harold didn't care. He had written a letter to Santa on a tortilla with syrup and glitter, and he had only one wish:

Dear Santa,
I’ve been an extremely medium-behaved hippo this year. Please bring me a human. Just one. Preferably bilingual.
Love,
Harold

He sent the letter via a pineapple strapped to a migrating ferret.

Page 2
As the clock struck 13, Harold prepared his living room—a mud jacuzzi with scented slime—and hung socks made of spaghetti noodles by the lava lamp. He even left out the traditional hippo Santa snacks:
- 3 marinated marshmallows
- A thimble of motor oil
- A photo of Nicolas Cage wearing earmuffs

At midnight, there was a THUMP! A BLIP! A noise like a trumpet learning French!
Harold galloped outside in fuzzy boots. And there, tangled in tinsel and riding a Segway, was...

Bob.

Bob was a tax accountant from Wisconsin. He had accidentally fallen into a wormhole while sleepwalking and ended up under Harold’s inflatable Christmas cactus.

Page 3
Harold gasped, “You’re human! Are you bilingual?”

Bob blinked. “I know some Klingon and once dated a dolphin.”
Close enough.

Harold squealed with joy and performed the traditional Hippo Victory Dance, which involved interpretive yodeling and three backflips (all internal).

From that day forward, Bob lived with Harold in the marshlands. They played uno with flamingos, started a podcast called “Snacks & Facts”, and occasionally opened portals to alternate dimensions just to see what tacos looked like in parallel universes.

And every Christmas, Harold would proudly say:
“I got exactly what I wanted… a semi-fluent, dimensionally misplaced human.”

The End.