Greetings and happy holidays! I kinda always wanted to do a holiday-themed fic, and since my favorite holiday is Christmas, I thought that would be the most fitting one to cover. However, rather than do a serious work, I decided to do an angst-free parody. Out of all the Christmas stories, A Christmas Carol is at the top of my list, not surprising since Dickens is one of my favorite all-around authors. Plus, I like the message it conveys about reevaluating who you are and helping others, peace and good will to your fellow men.
But how to mix that with Degrassi? That's the tricky part. Then I thought...well, it might be doable if I really, really exaggerated a certain character. That's when Craig Manning came to mind. Lol. I love Craig as much as the next person, and I'm a proud shipper of CrAsh, but this guy (at his worst) can be selfish. Of course, he has this other warm side, that's vulnerable and touching, and I'm choosing to focus on both for this fic. Thus, Craig reflects good ol' Ebenezer Scrooge. :) The other characters basically fit certain characteristics of the Dickens' characters, like Bob and Ms. Cratchit, Fred, Marley, Belle, the ghosts, etc. For example, I use Jimmy for Fred, because Fred's very kind and he's probably the best boyfriend you can have (which we can't always say for Craig). However, in the story he's still called Jimmy. I don't think it'll be too difficult to detect why I chose who for who, but if you're ever confused, you can leave a review saying such. Like Mr. Simpson is Mr. Fezziwig because he fits– very compassionate to his students, warm-hearted. Hopefully, you're not confused yet. The plot's similar.
If you are confused, that's where the two wonderful narrators come in. Anybody that knows me knows that I love J.T. and Toby's friendship, so rather than include them in the story, I'm letting them tell the story. There's only one narrator in the actual Dickens tale, but one of my favorite conceits they've done in the modern adaptations, including the Muppets version, is to have two narrators who are at odds over the story. It's more of a fresh twist to me. J.T. and Toby's narration is comical and goes with the parody elements, so that's why I chose them.
This is set around season six, so Craig's class has graduated, and he's made it big, and he's actually clean. He's just mean. Lol. So all the characters are around 17-18. The big change is the setting. I'm not transporting everything back to Dickens day, but I do give everything sort of an old town feel. Like more of a small town-y feel than a Toronto town-y feel, because I think that's so intricate to what Dickens was trying to say. So imagine kind of a postcard town, if you will. :)
Thanks for reading, and I hope you like it!
A Christmas Carol is the property of Charles Dickens, and was published in 1834. Any similarities to the plot are done for the purpose of parody. The Degrassi characters are not mine.
A Christmas Craig
I. Do You Hear What I Hear?
"No, this is what I heard," says Derek, twirling a piece of coal in his slush-covered fingers. "Eighteen...count them...eighteen of his ex-girlfriends got together in this secret society and snuffed him. Dude was a total player 'til the end."
Snow falls in sheets, under the glow of the street lights, neon red sign for the Dot Grill illuminating the face of their snowchick. Daphne the snowchick. They weren't too creative, and despite her faults, their school principal is still pretty hot. Danny retrieved a gold pom-pom from the Spirit Squad for her tresses, a Cheeto for the nose, and a pink apron from his mother's closet. Derek just happened to have some coal lying around the Haig house...yeah, happened.
"I heard he got smothered by his fedora," sighs Danny. "Put it on his face one night, went to sleep, never woke up."
"That's impossible," argues Derek. "How can a hat kill a guy? Someone would have to..."
"It's true, man!"
"Look...you know, take the picture, alright?"
Danny takes a deep breath, walks to the other side of the street, positions the camera in front of his eager eye. The frozen version of Hatzilakos is surrounded by a flash, picture popping out of the camera.
"First place in the jokester junior photo competition, for sure," praises Derek as they assess the picture.
They pause when they hear the crunch of snow, both boys mumbling when they see the owner of the two sets of shoes.
"What?" demands Danny.
"My hat," recognizes J.T., taking it off Danny's afro.
"You left it at our house," insists Danny. "Finders keepers."
J.T. exchanges a look with Toby, wool jackets covering their bodies.
"Really?" says J.T., grabbing the picture and grinning. "Heh, bad lighting."
J.T. returns the photograph to Danny, a deep frown across his face. Derek's expression is similarly disappointed. The Dot door swings open, releasing a strong gust of wind that blows off Daphne's twig arms. J.T. and Toby snicker, continue down the street.
"Our perfect chick!" moans Derek behind them.
"How pathetic are they?" laughs J.T., slipping on his wool, green hat.
"Did you or did you not imitate Hatzilakos, complete with breasts?" reminds Toby, shaking his head.
"That's different," waves off J.T. "We were much cooler than they are. Well, I was, anyway."
Toby shoves J.T. lightly, as they go to the steps of Degrassi Community School. Talk about different. It all looks so different during the holidays. The metallic edges of the roof glitter, the glass doors shine, no random, Internet guys are coming in looking for Friendship Club members. No, everything's at peace. The Lakehurst students must be home, snug in their beds.
"We used to enter that contest," reminds Toby.
"Yeah, but ours were classics. Catching Raditch sleep on his Swiss ball in the gym, Armstrong scratching his butt with chalk and leaving a mark. Those were more authentic," defends J.T.
"Feel old, I guess," confesses Toby. "We're graduating this year..."
"So?" says J.T.
"So maybe we're...I don't know, replaceable?"
"By them?" cries J.T. "Please. They don't know how to hold an audience's attention like me. They don't know how to get a point across, like you, vice president. And they certainly don't know the story of Craig Manning."
"Craig?" balks Toby. "Like the Craig Manning. And you do?"
"I do," insists J.T., taking off his hat and bowing to an invisible crowd.
"Tell it, then," encourages Toby.
"Like...like now?" stammers J.T. "Tobes, that'd be a very...a very long tale. Most of the night, in fact."
"Hmm, I'll just cancel all the hot dates I have," says Toby, sarcastically. "Tell it!"
"Gosh," mutters J.T. "Okay...okay, fine. I'm going to need some things."
Toby smirks, follows anyway. Truth is he is hoping for a hot date this year.
II.
His tennis shoe digs into the chest of a rubber chicken, Toby looking down curiously. There is always something strange on J.T.'s floor: clown wigs, itching powder, a pamphlet highlighting fetal development. Totally a normal room for any seventeen-year old boy. Toby gags briefly upon seeing the pamphlet baby's umbilical cord, sits on the bed to collect himself.
"The final touch!" says J.T., leaving his bathroom.
Toby's eyebrows rise. J.T.'s dressed in a suit with tails, black pants, and a top hat. They were from his variety show outfit, although Toby thought they kept those things in the dressing room.
"How'd you...did you steal that?" asks Toby. "Manny returned hers."
"Manny may have the dimples, but I have the mojo, mkay?" says J.T., beaming.
"Whatever," says Toby. "Why are you dressed like that?"
"For authenticity. I know your intelligent, sarcastic self won't believe me, otherwise. Plus, it's warmer than my coat and we're traveling."
"Huh?" cries Toby.
"Toby, it's 2007. We're living in a very visual age, interactive and engaging...and if I stay here, Grandma'll make us clean this room."
"Okay," says Toby, simply.
"Good," sighs J.T.
J.T. rubs his hands together, shakes his head three times, Toby figuring this for some weird actor exercise. Either that or Jay had given him some oxy again.
"Jeremiah was dead to begin with...," begins J.T.
"Wait!" interrupts Toby. "Derek and Danny were talking about that. No one knows how he died, or why. Fill me in."
"This is not going to work if you interrupt me," scolds J.T. "I'll tell you later."
"Well, I liked Joey. I mean...," complains Toby.
"Look, he's dead, because he wouldn't let us see Fancy the stripper at the bachelor party, alright?" snaps J.T. "That good enough for now?"
"Oh yeah, that blew," mumbles Toby.
J.T. jumps up and down, boxing the empty air, trying to get back into character. He hopes his best friend won't make this difficult all the way through. Every story doesn't have to be practical. Most of the good ones aren't. Then again, most of the good ones are in books, that you can read, at the library, which he tried to stay away from. Forget that. This is a good one, good enough for Toby at least.
"Jeremiah was dead to begin with. Even Caitlin Ryan can't doubt that. He was buried next to his beloved wife, Julia, and some guy that died that Tuesday. Craig Manning, poor guy, had to leave his tour in order to make the arrangements. That's when he knew, knew that Joey Jeremiah, the self-described pimp of Degrassi, was dead as you could get.
Toronto was all the better for it, because you see, Joey was a heartbreaker. Passed that down to Craig, so they said. That and Jeremiah Motors, the tightest used car lot in the area. Okay, the only car lot in the area. Being the adopted son of a failed musician, the keyboardist for the no-hit wonder the Zits, made him cold, bitter. Craig did, however, take the car lot Joey left to him, and change it into a music store. Now, this wasn't one of those feel-good music stores. You know, where they let you touch stuff, strum stuff, stroke stuff...hee."
Toby coughs, rolls his eyes.
"Rare sexual innuendo...sorry," corrects J.T., then righting himself. "No, Craig would only sell his goods to high-end buyers, like Trent Reznor or that guy in that band that nobody knows, but is in the band? As probably guessed, Craig didn't get a lot of business because of that, yet he didn't care. He was greedy, hording all those expensive goodies, lavishing in them. This earned him his neighbors' contempt. He used them to impress the ladies, to check his perfect, curly hair in their cases, to do air guitar in his cozy office. This earned him my contempt, because well, I'm not able to do any of that. Worse still, Craig cut off contact with most of his Degrassi classmates. Nobody knows exactly why. I do, and that's why this story needs to be told, to see how such a hard heart melted, how such a closed person became so open. And it all started on the most magical of nights, Christmas Eve..."
III.
"On Christmas Eve, Degrassi Street is in full holiday regalia. Fake holly is lined around the awnings of local businesses. Green and red lights hang across the windows. Candy canes are clutched by children. The smells of ham, turkey, and roast beef drift past nostrils. My descriptions become better after a semester-long class with Kwan..."
Toby nods appreciatively. He and J.T., tall top hat partly blocking his view, edge past customers carrying gift-wrapped purchases to their cars. The street is much busier than when they left it last, Derek and Danny's snowchick still erect, though it has remained armless. Nevertheless, things do feel different, more odd. It must be the magic J.T. claimed came on this night, or he's really high on E this time. The boys stall at the door of the Dot, two familiar girls scurrying past them.
"Oh, I feel for him," comments Mary. "If I lost my mom and my dad, then my adopted dad...I would be so lost. We've been praying for him in Friendship Club."
"Why bother?" remarks Chante. "Knew he was just faking that whole emo thing. Selfish jerk. How can you play prom with Kevin Smith watching you, and be sad? Ran away two days later! He didn't think of Joey at all then, and he doesn't now."
"Chante..."
"You saw what he's done with the lot," reminds Chante. "He's..."
The girls stop abruptly, as the temperature seems to drop, Toby pulling his coat tighter as the chilly wind crosses his face. His skin prickles, heartbeat quickening. This sudden change in the weather is startling, the chatty, streetside patients halting their chatter. Something's wrong. The lights in the window flicker once, twice, a final time.
A steady clomping sounds against the hard, cold sidewalk, Chante and Mary pressing against the wall so as to avoid his path. Toby's mouth drops. Shoulders slouched under a long, black coat, with rich silver buttons, his neck obscured by a black scarf, and his curly hair covered by snowflakes, he glowers at no one in particular. He stares straight past them, green eyes fixated on the building ahead.
"This could be termed a fortuitous moment, or maybe not, seeing as no one else would agree. Anyways, the busy going-ons of the community stopped in order to view the sad, strange man ambling past the stores on the avenue. Craig Manning liked the cold, to go out in it and feel it head-on. He did his necessary errands, went immediately to work afterwards. A minute of interaction is what most people received, unless you were willing to buy. A penny-pincher, a sharp-tongued lad, a user of too much moisturizer, that's what he was. Never mind the reputation since he embraced it. After all, how many rock stars are sweet?"
"True," agrees Toby.
They jog to a spot behind Craig, knocking Mary and Chante to the side in the process.
"Hey!" the girls cry.
Coughing quietly, Craig retrieves a key from his pocket, puts it in the lock of the store. He opens the door, then shuts it right in Toby and J.T.'s faces. J.T. releases an annoyed sigh, drags Toby to the storefront window.
"Manning's Music was built with care," informs J.T., turning to Toby. "If his musical heirlooms were to be displayed, they were going to be displayed in the best way possible. Each instrument is housed in a protective, glass case, a laminated, historical description beside it. Craig wanted everyone to know how much they were worth. This would attract thieves, no? Well, a sick, tricked out alarm system keeps things in order."
"What system? With PTSN?" inquires Toby.
"Gee, Tobes. I'm not well-versed in geekology, alright?" replies J.T.
"Sue me for asking," grumbles Toby.
Shrugging, J.T. tries the door, knocks a few times. A few seconds pass before someone answers. Muscular frame covered by a tattered jean jacket, Craig's assistant parts the door, blue eyes clear and inviting. Toby guesses he's anxious for some good-hearted company.
"Hey, man," he greets.
"What's up!" greets J.T., dorkily raising his fist in the air. "Here to browse."
"Uh...yeah," the assistant says, returning to a desk full of paperwork.
Toby grins as he takes in a few electric guitars to his right, strings shining under the florescent light, as shiny as the newly waxed floor. Dude, he should learn how to play. Girls loved that.
"Sean Cameron," says J.T., eyeing the guy at the desk. "Of humble means and with dreams of having his own shop, Craig's first confidante. For some unknown reason between them, Craig trusted him. All I know is that it involves a train. My own personal belief is that Sean defused a bomb on a train that Craig was on. Good with his hands, that Sean. That didn't keep him from getting arrested, though, for illegal racing. After he got out with a record, Craig hired him as a belated thank-you gift, and because well, no one else likes Craig. Sean does, understands him. Cause Sean, under all that denim, has a heart of gold. Dude, he tried to talk down a guy with a gun...come on!"
"Yeah, I was there," whispers Toby, urgently.
"Can you guys keep it down?" requests Sean, looking at them, and then the door to Craig's office. "He's like...emo today."
"He's emo everyday," murmurs J.T.
As if on cue, the door to Craig's door swings open, and they view his stark, tall body, eyes centered on the visitors.
"They're...they're here to browse," says Sean, nodding at them.
Craig sniffs at them dismissively, walks to Sean, crosses his arms. He peers over Sean's shoulder.
"How many sales today?" he questions.
"Uh...we sold that keyboard to that one guy from No Doubt," replies Sean.
"That's...," starts Craig.
J.T. and Toby exchange a worried look, noting Craig's mouth twisting into a deep frown. They breathe a sigh of relief when it changes to a smile.
"That's one more sale than yesterday," says Craig. "Sean, you're really carrying your weight around here. See, you get the fruits of your labor when you aren't spending time with the family."
"Craig detested the thought of being with loved ones, even on the twenty-fifth of December," whispers J.T. "Being without a family, he didn't understand the attraction of togetherness. Loneliness was not a cruel thought to him."
Sean clears his throat. "Speaking of family, or...actually, the beginning of...um, I was wondering if I could have Christmas Day off?"
"When's that?" says Craig.
"Tomorrow," says Sean in disbelief.
"What?" exclaims Craig. "No wonder I got all those Christmas coupons in the mail. And those horrible cartoons have been playing non-stop during prime-time hours. Ruining a perfectly fine business day for this commercial crud. I..."
"Stop," moans Toby, clutching his head.
"Craig?" says Sean.
"We have no one to do business with? Alright," moans Craig.
Sean closes his eyes, smiles. Toby hasn't seen Sean that pleased since his first day back at Degrassi. That's when he was sporting that ponytail, which Emma actually liked. Alright, that should go on the checklist, too. Guitar, ponytail...
"I suppose you want a present, too," sighs Craig, stroking his chin.
Shrugging, Sean opens his eyes.
"Come on," encourages Craig.
"Well...you said I have been carrying my weight, and we just got an apartment...and a month ago, you mentioned a raise so..."
"I know!" interjects Craig. "You can take one of those logs from the fireplace."
"A log?" whispers Sean, eyes bugging out.
"You're welcome," says Craig, walking to his office and slamming the door.
Groaning, Sean stands, walks to the fireplace. J.T. and Toby join him, staring at the middling fire flickering, obviously on its last legs. Sean selects the top log, reasonably large.
"Emma won't even let me burn this," he sighs.
About to ask how Emma is, they're all silenced by a steady knocking on the door. The knocks aren't as immediate as J.T.'s, but Sean dutifully goes and lets the person walk in. Or rather, roll in.
"Ah, Jimmy Brooks," whispers J.T. "One of Craig's dearest friends. Actually, one of Craig's former friends. Yet, due to his gentle nature and mutual love of art, Jimmy never fully abandoned Craig. Life after the shooting gave him a new perspective, a second chance, so he welcomed the joy every day brought. Being part of such a tragedy kinda does that, you know?"
"Yeah, I was there," sighs Toby.
"In any case, Jimmy never forgotten a friend, which made him so popular," continues J.T. "More popular than me. I can't stand Jimmy Brooks. No, actually... I like him, too."
Jimmy shakes hands with Sean, wheels past several glass cases. His clothes weren't as fancy as Craig's, but they were certainly pricier than Sean's. He wore a Triple Five Soul jacket and expensive jeans.
"Is my unapologetically blunt bro in his office?" questions Jimmy.
Sean chuckles. "Yeah, and he's not in the best mood."
"Perfect time to talk, then," says Jimmy, rolling to the door.
He pounds politely, and they all hear Craig's chair skid across the floor, before he arrives to see Jimmy. Craig mutters a few words under his breath.
"What are you doing here?" demands Craig.
"Merry Christmas, man!" greets Jimmy.
"Bah humbug!" denounces Craig.
"You didn't RSVP for the Squatch shindig," says Jimmy. "At the illustrious Brooks' residence? Hazel's cooking this slammin' jerk chicken. Spin's coming so you know we're going to get all crazy. It'll be fun."
"The Squatch are some wannabe nobodies," says Craig, hotly. "What would you call them? Wack?"
"Wack enough to get you where you are, Manning," returns Jimmy, smiling.
"I wouldn't go if you paid me to go," says Craig. "Um...how much would you pay?"
"That's all you think about," sighs Jimmy. "What you get out of things. Christmas isn't about the cash flow, man. It's about helping your fellow man, celebrating with people you care about..."
"Get bent!" exclaims Craig.
"Oh, snap," mutters J.T.
"Yeah, okay, Bart Simpson," says Jimmy, shaking his head. "What, still resentful I dated Ashley when you went on tour? That's so done...you know, whatever."
Honestly, Toby wouldn't mind the fight going longer, especially with the mention of his stepsister. What did that have to do with anything? But that won't be the case, as Sean goes to answer yet another knock at the door. Manning's Music is certainly popular tonight. Not as popular as Jimmy, but yeah.
"Donations!" calls a girl, cheerfully. "Donations!"
Her purple scarf, with a pattern of snowmen, matches perfectly with her coat. Another boy, in a fashionable trench, runs a hand through his straight, black hair, and grins at Craig.
"Not you two, again!" cries Craig.
"Craig...buddy!" greets Marco.
"Not going to introduce them?" whispers Toby to J.T.
"Nah, this is one of their two minor appearances," explains J.T.
Too bad because Darcy's hot. Wait. Didn't she and Spinner end their relationship, like recently? Sweet. Toby checks his breath, walks to Darcy.
"Uh, Darcy...," he starts.
"The Degrassi Alumni Fund is collecting donations for a program you'd be interested in," says Darcy, a clearly rehearsed speech. "They want to bring more funding to the arts programs in the community center. Did you know that kids that do well in music also do well in math? Did you know that colleges look kindly on you if you play more than one musical instrument?"
"Duh...I got a stupid musical scholarship," shoots down Craig. "Why don't they just come here and buy one of my pieces?"
"Many of them would rather die, Craig," says Marco. "They don't like you."
Darcy hits Marco lightly in the gut.
"Sorry," breathes Marco.
"What he means is...they can't afford it...please?" begs Darcy. "A lot of these kids are becoming tone-deaf and we have to put up with their bad singing and playing. My ears hurt."
"Let your ears hurt," says Craig, coldly. "And if they're going to die instead of coming here, let them do that and decrease the untalented population."
Darcy, Sean, Toby, and J.T. gasp. Jimmy slams down his fists against the arms of his chair.
"You're cold, man," condemns Jimmy. "I'm out. Come to the party, or don't come."
"Hmmm, I...won't!" yells Craig.
"You know...it wouldn't kill you to have a wheelchair ramp for this place," shouts Jimmy.
"All of you...leave!" orders Craig, shooting them each a cold stare.
The door clatters after him, Toby shaking a bit. How could a musician turn away such a cause? Toby digs deep into his pockets, hands Darcy ten dollars. Darcy claps her hands.
"Um, do you like pizza?" asks Toby, hopefully.
"I...have to go," says Darcy, grabbing Marco by the hand and leaving before he can say anything else.
"I thought...," starts Toby.
"Quiet, Tobias," interjects J.T. "Time to end this scene."
Toby stops speaking, watches Sean straighten the paperwork, stand.
"The end of another grueling workday done, Sean Cameron deadened the lights in the store, the last crackles of the fire filling the room. He wondered to himself if his boss would ever be a kind man," says J.T.
"I wonder if he'll ever be kind," sighs Sean, scratching his head.
"Whoa," whispers Toby.
"Craig, done counting the money he's received from his musical engagements and his property, left his office to face the stinging cold again."
Craig exits the office, buttoning his last silver button.
"Be here early tomorrow," says Craig.
"Christmas...you said I could have it off," reminds Sean.
"Oh...then, alright," says Craig. "Be here all the earlier the next morning."
"Sure," says Sean. "Merry Christmas."
"Lock up the store tight," he commands, leaving without another word.
Sean frowns, retrieves a red scarf from a drawer, and puts it around his neck. The initials E.N. were knitted near the bottom.
"Merry Christmas, J.T. and Toby," says Sean, leading them to the exit.
"Merry Christmas, Sean," they both say.
The outside is no warmer than Manning's Music, Toby's lips shivering. If they were traveling, this would be a brutal night. More brutal than Craig? Probably not.
"See, the extreme cold didn't bother Craig Manning. His insides were frozen, hard to the touch. Yet, a night of surprises would eventually make those very insides begin to thaw. For a man is never mean for no reason."
"You're scaring me," admits Toby.
"Come on," groans J.T., leading his best friend down the street.