"ho ho ho," you laugh as you lower yourself into the flue, still grasping the rim. pushing with the sides of your shoes and one hand against the rough clay lining, you think you're stable enough to remove the other hand to press the side of your nose like santa would, then cup your hand around your mouth as you bellow "meeeery christmas! --shit!". Suddenly you slide down a couple inches so the rim is just out of reach. you move a foot to try climbing but slide down more, only able to slow your descent. "The cabin. I'll break out," you think, before the pain of slicing your thumb on something and landing on the hard smoke shelf, with your upper body still in the flue.

Your mind goes numb. you're holding your breath as you prod with your foot, tapping here and there. In one place you hear a metallic clink, but everywhere you feel resistance. panic creeps in when you're sure you can't go farther.

You tilt your head back enough to see the tiny patch of cloudy sky through the hole above you and gasp for air. Feeling dizzy and nauseous, you desperately try to shimmy back up again, using pressure against the sides. there's no leverage to be had at all, even less now that your lower legs are in the wider smoke chamber. You feel around with your foot some more, stomping weakly on the 4"x30" metallic damper casing.

The minutes tic by as you hop, wiggle, push, and shift. You bump, claw, struggle, and scrape. Every action is more desperate and painful than the last. Your impending doom becomes more evident as the reality of being crucified in your standing coffin manifests as prickling and burning sensations in your raised hands and arms. Suddenly you're overcome with a feeling of peace and serenity, hoping the people you love will think you ran off to start a new life somewhere. "merry christmas, family, I love you."