The end is relative due to that little thing known as the Earth’s rotation. As you read this, the struggle is over for the year for our friends in places such as New Zealand and Australia. (And I know we have some because I see where those who visit this blog are from. But don’t worry—I can’t see who you are or anything intrusive like that.) The dark time just expired in the Middle East, too.

But here in the U.S.? It’s hours to daylight—or, if you want to be overly literal—midnight.

As I type this, 961 people have reported in as having been taken out by the dreaded Boy. And there are plenty more who haven’t had a chance to let us know yet, I’m sure. Mrs. LDBC and I are stone dead, having been laid low in two separate incidents. Desperate cries of, “Don’t drum me, bro” carry no weight with The Boy.

When it’s your moment, you’re gonna get it.

Billy Joel slaughtered thousands—including LDBCers the Peckmans (no relation)—at The Garden a few days back, and the Piano Man probably doesn’t even know what he did. Probably. Kay Morris went down right in front of my old office building, which makes The Boy’s evil feel even more personal. Justin Fermenich‘s downfall was such a tragedy that a press release was issued.

Yet there is hope. And it’s that hope, a small flame in all this darkness, that allows us to go on.

He’s seen the lights go out on Broadway. As have his victims.

Midnight. Just a word—a word so distant, though brimming with relief. Yet it will arrive all the same.

But the nail-biting hours we have left feel much like, as a friend of mine pointed out today, Henry Hill‘s cocaine-fueled day of paranoia. Sure, the drug made him jumpy and nutty. Still, the helicopter was real. And Lois, despite all her yeah-yeah-yeahs, did made the call from the house.

Meanwhile, here are the LDBC-elfies submitted since the last go-round. May their sacrifice not be in vain.

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Ever vigilant, people. And remember: if midnight your local time hits and you’ve survived, report your victory via the form. Then post a victorious LDBC-elfie on the Facebook page. If you’ve lost already and haven’t reported it yet, there’s still time to do that, too.

For Joyce!

The Boy by Van Frank (courtesy Libby); Santa ornament by Maggie Sheridan (courtesy Clare)

So Mrs. LDBC and I are just getting around to watching the second season of Stranger Things, which sets the mood nicely for this Thing of Ours. And in only the first episode, they include the perfect song, which I’d forgotten all about:

Because it has been just another day. Nineteen of ’em, in fact—dark and deadly ones. And as Mr. Elfman says, there’s murder in the air. And a lot more of it to come, I’m afraid.

Now, it’s not all doom and gloom, people. Well, it is for the time being, but I’d like you to keep the children’s art (on loan from the offspring of generous LDBCers Libby Frank and Clare Sheridan) in mind so that the creative pixie dust of the wee ones’ drawing implements may help you face the butchery ahead.

We’re about 600 people down thus far in the game, which is more than 30 blown away daily, on average. And that’s just those who’ve reported in. Madness. (Not the band. I’m talking true lunacy here.)

Alec Rose suffered a Moldavian Massacre-like episode in Whole Foods, which might as well be called Whole Family from this day on. Lisa Andrews wanted a banana—and for her sins, The Boy gave her one.  Desiree Kern got wrapped up but good. Peggy Gannon survived a day of paintball, only to get pasted. And Lillian Murphy. Ah, Lillian Murphy. In a year where more people than ever are being taken down by the dreaded Pentatonix, Lillian Murphy managed to do it live, in person, at a concert. That kind of suffering takes some doing, folks.

While I’m at it, let me just stress: stay away from Pentatonix. And for pity’s sake, do not watch that Pee-wee Herman/Grace Jones video being sent around. Oh, and avoid Psych: The Movie, which has been mowing people down right and left. And when you see the Amazon Echo/Alexa and Blue Man Group ads coming, run like hell.

What else? A couple nice mentions from The Boston Globe and The Indianapolis Star, both of which we’re very grateful for. Spreading the word about the menace of The Boy means lives may be saved. And speaking of lives saved, LDBCer Marine Madesclaire filed this dispatch from the Land o’ Disney, which she managed to escape unscathed. We’ll take our inspiration where we find it, so thank you, MM.

(Please note that there should be a video above. If there isn’t, please try another browser or watch it here. Chrome on the Mac can sometimes be wonky with Facebook embeds, for some reason.)

All of that said, there’s no avoiding the sadness, people. Thus, we present a gallery of the latest victims, here to be mourned along with those from the last batch. And a strange idea I’ll toss at you: while assembling and tagging this gallery, I was listening to the Hilarious World of Depression podcast. And as it turns out, clicking through the gallery while the theme song from that plays makes for an oddly appropriate multimedia experience. Give it a try.

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OK, remember, please: should you go down, let us know on the Facebook page, and fill out the reporting form. And all the while, be true to the spirit of Carlin Reed, who really does manage to sum the entire LDBC dynamic up in one simple statement here:

And let’s be careful out there.

For Joyce!