Seventh Holiday special: You'll put and eye out, Kid.

"Rabbit" Screamed Thor, clutching at his bleeding eye socket.

"Okay, I frickin' screwed up but one that was a robot eye to start with, we could just pop another one in, and two, if Quill gets a pellet gun-"

"Ughuhuhuh!" said Quill, from just outside the ship, his tongue stuck to a lamp-post, as Drax tries to blow-torch him free and Mantis and Gamora watch. Gamora is tapping her foot, pissed off.

"What? Asked Rocket, popping open the cockpit.

"Ughuhuhuh!" said Quill, Rocket signed.

"Groot, put down the lamp shaped like a broad's leg and get him a tablet…. No, not a morphia tablet, a computer to he can write, ya idiot."

"Tank-u Grooo" muttered Quill, taking the tablet and typing, he then turned it to show Rocket, who sighed.

"Okay, it's not just a pellet gun, it's the official Red Ryder carbine action, 200-shot, range model air rifle with a compass in the stock, fine. But you gave Quill a gun and all I got was bath stuff: soap, shampoo, bath bombs, bath salts, and not even the fun kind you can snort, which is all kinda dumb because I don't even take baths: you think you humies might get the hint, but yeah… He got a cool gun and I got weird smelling soap, of course I was going to steal the gun and of course alcohol became involved and of course some idiot put an eyeball right in the line of my trick shot. So what I'm saying, right, what I'm saying… is that this is all Quill's fault and I take no blame whatsoever."

[all turn to look at Rocket, he is wearing a Santa hat and a guilty expression, and still holding the gun]

"Also I'm keeping the gun." He said, before scurrying I to the air-vents.

Because this time Marval actually been me to the Holiday Special this year. Merry Christmas to all, it's been a hard year, and I'm still not doing well, but I'd like to thank you all for your comments and thoughts over the years.