A response I actually submitted to a magazine site during my lunch break at work because I just can't help myself (and I am a very lonely person):

 

Hide yo' kids. Hide yo' wife. The Holidays are coming.

Every year come October, I head for the underground bunker I built for when The Holidays come. I run 20 miles a day on a treadmill while blasting Destiny's Child.  I'm a survivor. I'm not gon give up. I'm not gon stop. I'm gon work harder. It's my holiday jam. After strength training, I lay in a tanning bed each day for 10 minutes to keep my healthy looking glow. I then inject myself with botox once a month to keep the wrinkles and expressions from all the sadness at bay. When I think of fudge or family or people smiling, I remind myself that I must be strong; only the strong survive. Once all the cookies,  gingerbread, and holiday colored m&ms are gone, I come out of the bunker, nary an uncounted, savory calorie on my person. There you have it -- my secret. How I survive. You're welcome.

Some people survive war, famine, disease, poverty....but let us prepare for the cookie apocalypse.