"Wow. This is the best Secret Santa gift we've ever gotten!" Jbergur's wife exclaimed, as she jumped out of sheer jolly joy. Oh boy, was she right. The carefully sealed package had travelled the lonesome way from across the big pond and had found it's way into the hands of a diligent delivery boy of PostNord - unbeknownst of what treasures it held. Unfortunately for the package it's recievers were on holiday in a country far north of the civilised world, as we know it. The new year's passed and the darkness of the local post office, as it's final opening days of the year had passed, engulfed the package's once jolly disposition.

The package was on a mission. A mission of Christmas joy. A mission from the secret santa. It shed its dispair and proudly boasted its glorious presence on the shelf.

This was the image Jbergur was met with upon entering the post office, having barely landed back home, rushing around, trying to get hold of the treasure, that the mysterious note on his phone, claimed was his. His. His secret santa gift.

Once back home the package broke through the final frontier, the unbreachable door, that the delivery boy was broken by. The package landed on the floor and was excitingly ripped apart, as it so had longed for. A final release of its destined Christmas joy. Giving locally brewed coffee, Minnesotan treats and a mysterious and intriguing cardgame to stangers in Denmark.