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Dec. 26th, 2006 11:09 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
danalwynHere's how my Christmas went.
I never woke up at two in the morning when I was a kid. Hence I was not happy at waking up at that ungodly hour now that I'm older, so it took the phone multiple tries to get me out of bed.
"It's two in the morning," I finally managed. "Whoever is calling me better have a damn good reason."
"It's Alice," said Alice who, because she had spent the better part of a day complaining that Christmas was just a bastardization of ancient pagan celebrations, had drawn the Christmas Eve shift, "We've had an incursion problem."
I swore. Incursions happen every once in a while, often at inconvenient times. Groaning, I propped myself up in bed. "Was it serious?"
"No. Defences were on auto, and detected an unauthorized and stealthed entry. We intercepted him at range and knocked him down. Then we confiscated the hardware. Standard procedure."
"Then why are you calling me?" I asked grumpily.
Alice actually sounded a bit nervous when she answered, which magically dispelled my sleepiness. "Er...because I've got this fat old elf and some reindeer here asking about whether they can get their sleigh back."
Whooping alarm sirens began to go off in my head. "Wait a minute. You SHOT DOWN Santa Claus?"
"Well, it wasn't exactly me. You see, the defenses were on auto because..."
"I'm coming in. Don't leave the office," I ordered. Yes, this was going to be one of those Christmases.
By the time I managed to get to the office, a number of other cars had appeared, including that of my boss. I groaned even more. Coffee was not going to cut it. Alcohol might do though.
Alice was waiting for me right inside the doorway, wearing her usual goth getup. To be honest, I don't pay much attention to her wardrobe normally. Black clothes tend to look like black clothes to me. The only appearance of holiday color on her was on her lips.
"We've got more trouble," she greeted me in the age-old way that subordinates greet their superiors when all hell breaks loose.
"Oh?" I asked.
"We emptied his bag," she said, and led me into the sterile white room where we normally conduct inspections. There was a fat, older man in red sitting there, looking like he had walked out of a Norman Rockwell painting. Around him was the shiny metallic loot from his bag. I raised an eyebrow.
"Delivering to Darfur this year?" I asked, picking up one of the gifts.
"There are many children, bless their hearts, whose tastes run to complicated toys," Santa said. Despite the fact that we don't run the heater at night, he was sweating and redder than his clothes. "I do my best to give them what they want."
I turned to the wall, lifted the AK-47, and emptied a full clip into the wall.
"It's the real thing," Alice confirmed, taking her fingers out of her ears. Santa looked like he was going to faint. "And what's even worse, he wasn't heading south. He was heading north."
"Really? I wasn't aware the Canadians were having much of a problem," I stared at him.
"Oh, ah...er..." he began.
"Do you know what this looks like?" I asked.
"It looks like someone's trying to break the international arms ban on the North Pole," Charity filled in for me, stepping through the door, taking off her gloves. Girls named Charity should, in my mind, look well-bred, act demure, and generally be the kind of girl who prefers to sit indoors and watch life pass by. My boss looks like a windblown haystack, has a temper that runs from hot to explosive, and packs more punch than a Kool-Aid factory. I rather like her.
"I...um...wouldn't..." Santa began, and then paused. Managing to wake Charity before 3:30 am on Christmas Day is probably a sure-fire way to instant death for most people.
"This doesn't even make any sense," I complained, because it did not. Everyone agreed that the arms ban, which started shortly after the elf rebellion began in mid-December, was favorable to Santa. After all, he had all the North Pole's heavy industry. He could make as many weapons as he wanted. "Why are you bringing this stuff in? I mean, I know it works, but it's cheap crap. You make better stuff up at the Pole."
"Are you supplying the rebels?" Charity asked, incredulously. "The ones who are trying to overthrow you?"
Santa's face fell. "Oh shucks, I knew I wouldn't get away with this. I just...I had to try. I'm not even the real Santa anymore. The reindeer were just doing me a favor."
He seemed close enough to tears that Alice produced a hankerchief, black with white lace embrodiery, for him to blow his nose on while the rest of us considered that.
"Wait a minute," Charity said finally, having taken longer than usual to make connections, "How can you not be the real Santa anymore? You've been Santa for over a millenium. They can't just fire you!"
"It was a leveraged buyout," Santa sniffled into the hankerchief.
"Someone made a hostile takeover of Christmas? I thought you owned it!" I exclaimed.
Santa looked like he was going to start gushing like a faucet. "It was a court case. They ruled that my name trademark was too similar to a pre-existing name, and I was forced to give thirty percent of my stock to compensate. After that, I was vulnerable, and they bought me out."
"Someone bought out Christmas?" Alice looked like she just had her teeth stolen out of her mouth without her noticing. For all her supposed worldliness, Alice is a bit naive sometimes.
"Who won the case?" Charity asked, looking suspicious.
"They ruled that Santa was too close to Satan," the jolly old man sobbed.
"Satan is Santa Claus?!" all three of us shouted.
Too teared up to talk anymore, Santa just nodded.
"This explains so much," Charity murmured.
"Yeah, like that stupid doll I got on my ninth birthday," Alice exclaimed.
"That would just be because you're an ungrateful bastard," I told her.
"Bitch," she corrected.
"Say what?"
"I'm an ungrateful bitch, not an ungrateful bastard."
"Whatever."
"Regardless, we have to do something about this," Charity cut the two of us off before we could really get going. "We'll level a complaint and get him the hell out of there. We can't have him in charge of Christmas. We'll take care of it, old man. You didn't need to start a rebellion in your own home."
He shook his head, still too choked to talk.
"Oh shit," I said, as the revelation hit me like a freight train.
"What is it?" Charity asked. I noticed that one hand was already curled into a fist.
"It's Satan," I explained, suddenly realizing why Santa had resorted to desparate measures, "He can't do much, right? Can't create massive physical rewards, can't lie in contracts, can't entrap people who don't sign up, can't enter people's houses without them inviting him in, right?"
"Right," Charity said in that suspicious tone of voice of people who have noticed that the light at the end of the tunnel appears to be moving in their direction.
"But Santa can. Santa can enter every house in the world, and give everyone in the world whatever he wants to give him. It's part of the way things work. He's just won entry to every single domicile on the face of the earth."
"He did what?" Alice paled. Given her normal facial color, this was quite a feat. Santa just nodded.
"We have to stop him," Charity decided.
"Excellent. How? It's almost 2:30. He's probably been around the world already," I pointed out.
"He can't, we have the reindeer," Charity said.
"Can't he just fly?" Alice asked.
"Nope," I shook my head. Charity was right. "He has to use the reindeer. No reindeer, no sleigh, no Ho Ho Ho, no Santa. Does he have a backup sleigh and backup reindeer?"
Santa nodded, and managed to speak this time. "It will take him some time to round them up. The rebels hold that end of the compound."
"Then we might still have some time," I said, noticing that Charity was looking at the ceiling. Her lips were moving very fast.
"All right," she said, sliding into command of the situation as easily as putting her gloves back on, "That was Command. They agree with me. First Heavy Assault Brigade is moving to assembly at Vancouver, but they won't be ready for another hour and a half. That means that somebody has to go in and see if they can keep that damn sleigh from taking off. Alice, I see you've already woken Daren and Sam. Get everyone else in here. Absolutely everyone. We'll try and get the sleigh turned around. I think the sleigh may be able to get through the North Pole's defenses undetected. Santa, we'll need your help to guide us in."
"Since I'm not Christian and don't believe in Christmas, can I get out of this?" Alice asked.
"No," Charity answered.
Which was how, fifteen minutes later, I found myself heavily armed, armored, and trying to cram myself into the bench seat on the back of Santa's fire engine-red sleigh. Next to me, Daren had already dozed off again, without dropping his rocket launcher.
"So," I said, as Santa began to jiggle the harnesses, "Basically we're taking a reindeer driven flying sleigh through an air defense zone where we can launch a daring commando raid on the North Pole workshop, in the middle of an elf war, to sabotage Santa's sleigh, in order to save Christmas from Santa Claus?"
"That about sums it up," Charity agreed.
"My life is so fucked up," I complained.
"Hey, it's better than last Christmas," Sam pointed out.
The funny thing was, I realized as we shot off into the sky, nearly losing Daren to the power lines at the end of the street, she was right.
I never woke up at two in the morning when I was a kid. Hence I was not happy at waking up at that ungodly hour now that I'm older, so it took the phone multiple tries to get me out of bed.
"It's two in the morning," I finally managed. "Whoever is calling me better have a damn good reason."
"It's Alice," said Alice who, because she had spent the better part of a day complaining that Christmas was just a bastardization of ancient pagan celebrations, had drawn the Christmas Eve shift, "We've had an incursion problem."
I swore. Incursions happen every once in a while, often at inconvenient times. Groaning, I propped myself up in bed. "Was it serious?"
"No. Defences were on auto, and detected an unauthorized and stealthed entry. We intercepted him at range and knocked him down. Then we confiscated the hardware. Standard procedure."
"Then why are you calling me?" I asked grumpily.
Alice actually sounded a bit nervous when she answered, which magically dispelled my sleepiness. "Er...because I've got this fat old elf and some reindeer here asking about whether they can get their sleigh back."
Whooping alarm sirens began to go off in my head. "Wait a minute. You SHOT DOWN Santa Claus?"
"Well, it wasn't exactly me. You see, the defenses were on auto because..."
"I'm coming in. Don't leave the office," I ordered. Yes, this was going to be one of those Christmases.
By the time I managed to get to the office, a number of other cars had appeared, including that of my boss. I groaned even more. Coffee was not going to cut it. Alcohol might do though.
Alice was waiting for me right inside the doorway, wearing her usual goth getup. To be honest, I don't pay much attention to her wardrobe normally. Black clothes tend to look like black clothes to me. The only appearance of holiday color on her was on her lips.
"We've got more trouble," she greeted me in the age-old way that subordinates greet their superiors when all hell breaks loose.
"Oh?" I asked.
"We emptied his bag," she said, and led me into the sterile white room where we normally conduct inspections. There was a fat, older man in red sitting there, looking like he had walked out of a Norman Rockwell painting. Around him was the shiny metallic loot from his bag. I raised an eyebrow.
"Delivering to Darfur this year?" I asked, picking up one of the gifts.
"There are many children, bless their hearts, whose tastes run to complicated toys," Santa said. Despite the fact that we don't run the heater at night, he was sweating and redder than his clothes. "I do my best to give them what they want."
I turned to the wall, lifted the AK-47, and emptied a full clip into the wall.
"It's the real thing," Alice confirmed, taking her fingers out of her ears. Santa looked like he was going to faint. "And what's even worse, he wasn't heading south. He was heading north."
"Really? I wasn't aware the Canadians were having much of a problem," I stared at him.
"Oh, ah...er..." he began.
"Do you know what this looks like?" I asked.
"It looks like someone's trying to break the international arms ban on the North Pole," Charity filled in for me, stepping through the door, taking off her gloves. Girls named Charity should, in my mind, look well-bred, act demure, and generally be the kind of girl who prefers to sit indoors and watch life pass by. My boss looks like a windblown haystack, has a temper that runs from hot to explosive, and packs more punch than a Kool-Aid factory. I rather like her.
"I...um...wouldn't..." Santa began, and then paused. Managing to wake Charity before 3:30 am on Christmas Day is probably a sure-fire way to instant death for most people.
"This doesn't even make any sense," I complained, because it did not. Everyone agreed that the arms ban, which started shortly after the elf rebellion began in mid-December, was favorable to Santa. After all, he had all the North Pole's heavy industry. He could make as many weapons as he wanted. "Why are you bringing this stuff in? I mean, I know it works, but it's cheap crap. You make better stuff up at the Pole."
"Are you supplying the rebels?" Charity asked, incredulously. "The ones who are trying to overthrow you?"
Santa's face fell. "Oh shucks, I knew I wouldn't get away with this. I just...I had to try. I'm not even the real Santa anymore. The reindeer were just doing me a favor."
He seemed close enough to tears that Alice produced a hankerchief, black with white lace embrodiery, for him to blow his nose on while the rest of us considered that.
"Wait a minute," Charity said finally, having taken longer than usual to make connections, "How can you not be the real Santa anymore? You've been Santa for over a millenium. They can't just fire you!"
"It was a leveraged buyout," Santa sniffled into the hankerchief.
"Someone made a hostile takeover of Christmas? I thought you owned it!" I exclaimed.
Santa looked like he was going to start gushing like a faucet. "It was a court case. They ruled that my name trademark was too similar to a pre-existing name, and I was forced to give thirty percent of my stock to compensate. After that, I was vulnerable, and they bought me out."
"Someone bought out Christmas?" Alice looked like she just had her teeth stolen out of her mouth without her noticing. For all her supposed worldliness, Alice is a bit naive sometimes.
"Who won the case?" Charity asked, looking suspicious.
"They ruled that Santa was too close to Satan," the jolly old man sobbed.
"Satan is Santa Claus?!" all three of us shouted.
Too teared up to talk anymore, Santa just nodded.
"This explains so much," Charity murmured.
"Yeah, like that stupid doll I got on my ninth birthday," Alice exclaimed.
"That would just be because you're an ungrateful bastard," I told her.
"Bitch," she corrected.
"Say what?"
"I'm an ungrateful bitch, not an ungrateful bastard."
"Whatever."
"Regardless, we have to do something about this," Charity cut the two of us off before we could really get going. "We'll level a complaint and get him the hell out of there. We can't have him in charge of Christmas. We'll take care of it, old man. You didn't need to start a rebellion in your own home."
He shook his head, still too choked to talk.
"Oh shit," I said, as the revelation hit me like a freight train.
"What is it?" Charity asked. I noticed that one hand was already curled into a fist.
"It's Satan," I explained, suddenly realizing why Santa had resorted to desparate measures, "He can't do much, right? Can't create massive physical rewards, can't lie in contracts, can't entrap people who don't sign up, can't enter people's houses without them inviting him in, right?"
"Right," Charity said in that suspicious tone of voice of people who have noticed that the light at the end of the tunnel appears to be moving in their direction.
"But Santa can. Santa can enter every house in the world, and give everyone in the world whatever he wants to give him. It's part of the way things work. He's just won entry to every single domicile on the face of the earth."
"He did what?" Alice paled. Given her normal facial color, this was quite a feat. Santa just nodded.
"We have to stop him," Charity decided.
"Excellent. How? It's almost 2:30. He's probably been around the world already," I pointed out.
"He can't, we have the reindeer," Charity said.
"Can't he just fly?" Alice asked.
"Nope," I shook my head. Charity was right. "He has to use the reindeer. No reindeer, no sleigh, no Ho Ho Ho, no Santa. Does he have a backup sleigh and backup reindeer?"
Santa nodded, and managed to speak this time. "It will take him some time to round them up. The rebels hold that end of the compound."
"Then we might still have some time," I said, noticing that Charity was looking at the ceiling. Her lips were moving very fast.
"All right," she said, sliding into command of the situation as easily as putting her gloves back on, "That was Command. They agree with me. First Heavy Assault Brigade is moving to assembly at Vancouver, but they won't be ready for another hour and a half. That means that somebody has to go in and see if they can keep that damn sleigh from taking off. Alice, I see you've already woken Daren and Sam. Get everyone else in here. Absolutely everyone. We'll try and get the sleigh turned around. I think the sleigh may be able to get through the North Pole's defenses undetected. Santa, we'll need your help to guide us in."
"Since I'm not Christian and don't believe in Christmas, can I get out of this?" Alice asked.
"No," Charity answered.
Which was how, fifteen minutes later, I found myself heavily armed, armored, and trying to cram myself into the bench seat on the back of Santa's fire engine-red sleigh. Next to me, Daren had already dozed off again, without dropping his rocket launcher.
"So," I said, as Santa began to jiggle the harnesses, "Basically we're taking a reindeer driven flying sleigh through an air defense zone where we can launch a daring commando raid on the North Pole workshop, in the middle of an elf war, to sabotage Santa's sleigh, in order to save Christmas from Santa Claus?"
"That about sums it up," Charity agreed.
"My life is so fucked up," I complained.
"Hey, it's better than last Christmas," Sam pointed out.
The funny thing was, I realized as we shot off into the sky, nearly losing Daren to the power lines at the end of the street, she was right.
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(no subject)
Date: 2006-12-28 05:46 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2006-12-29 09:01 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2006-12-31 06:48 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-01-01 11:13 pm (UTC)Or maybe that's just me.
Then I laff. ^____^