A/N: The author, being totally sick of the holiday known as christmas (which apparently starts before Hallowe'en now) has decided to lampoon, mock, and/or lambast the holiday in hopes of gaining a little relief from christmas cheer, of which she is thoroughly sick. Therefore, on with the fic!
Vlad Masters was having a bad day. No, it was more than that; he was having a horrible day. Not only had his employees, human and ghost, screwed up the most menial of tasks, but now his lunch was screwed up too.
He scowled down at his plate. It was...it was...festive! He'd never seen a piece of steak dyed such a lurid red-and-green pattern. And his dessert...no, it didn't bear thinking about. "Lunch Lady!" he roared, losing his temper completely.
The ghost-woman poked her head into his private dining room. "What is it?"
"My steak. It's red. And green. MEAT ISN'T SUPPOSED TO COME IN COLOURS!"
"I was just trying to make it festive for you," the ghost said, raising her hands. "After all, it's Christmas Eve."
Vlad groaned, burying his face in his hands. "Never mind. I'm not hungry anymore. Just...just leave me alone."
The ghost-woman obeyed him, taking the offending dishes back to the kitchen, saying something about "Christmas dinner of DOOM" under her breath.
"Screw work. Need booze," Vlad muttered. After placing a quick phone call to let the few people still at the corporate office know that he was definitely not coming back today (or indeed, until all this "festive" crap was over), he plodded upstairs, swiping a bottle of blueberry-flavoured vodka from his private stash as he went.
In his study, far from the possibility of red-and-green meat, he relaxed a little, pouring himself a shot of vodka. After all, he had the luxury of hiding from Christmas, which apparently started before Halloween these days.
He set the bottle aside, and raised the glass in a sardonic toast. "To no festivities whatsoever!"
Before he could down his much-coveted booze, however, a voice boomed out of nowhere. "Vlad Masters, it's time you learned the true meaning of Christmas!"
"Hagapbbthhga!!!" the half-ghost replied; or words to that effect. Once he'd stopped spluttering, he looked around for the source of the voice. "What?" he snapped.
"I said, it's time you learned the true meaning of Christmas!"
"Oh, not that hackneyed old crap again!" Vlad groaned, looking askance at his bottle of vodka. "Er...where are you, anyway?"
"Behind the curtains!" Without warning, a ghost stepped from its hiding place behind Vlad's hideously expensive drapes. It was cloaked in purple, and carried a staff with a clock on top of it.
Vlad blinked. "What the hell were you doing behind my drapes?"
The ghost smirked. "Hiding."
Vlad gave the ghost his best "Well duh!" look. "Just get to the point, or go away."
The purple ghost coughed. "Well, to make a long story short...blah blah, meaning of Christmas, blah blah, you'll be visited by three spirits, blah blah, scare the shit out of you, blah. Good night!" In a swirl of smoke, the ghost vanished.
"The fuck...?" Vlad muttered, staring, and then opened the bottle of vodka and upended it into his mouth.
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Shortly after Vlad went to bed (read "passed out"), he was rudely awakened by yet another loud, booming voice.
"Whazzawant?!" Vlad muttered thickly, fumbling for the lamp on his night table. "Oh, crap, not you."
The Box Ghost stood beside his bed, looking really self-important. "I am the Box Gh...I mean, the Ghost of Christmas Present!"
Hatred bubbled up in the half-ghost's mind. "Was that a PUN?!" he shrieked, grabbing the closest thing to hand - which just happened to be the horrendously expensive lamp on his table - and hurling it at the offending ghost.
Crunch!
"OW! Stoppit!" the Box Ghost whined. "I didn't know it was a pun!"
"Oh, you didn't, did you?!" Vlad growled, rising from his bed. Swiftly he changed to his ghost-form. "I think I'll pummel the crap out of you anyway!"
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Warily, Vlad went back to bed after thoroughly whaling on the pathetic ghost who'd interrupted his sleep. And, sure enough, just as he started to drop back off, there was another booming voice. "I am Clockwork, the Ghost of Christmas Past!"
Growling, Vlad squinted at the ghost. Drat - it was the one in purple again. "I swear, if you make a pun like the last one did..." He let his voice trail off ominously.
"Oh, no puns," the ghost said innocently. "Just come with me. Oh, and you'll need to fly."
Muttering, the half-ghost swtiched forms - again. "Where the hell are we going?"
"The past."
Vlad stared at him. "You're all completely insane."
The next thing he knew, he was in a lab. Not just any lab - he looked up and down, and realized that it was his old college chemistry lab. "What the hell are we doing here."
"You don't expect me to spoil the surprise, do you? Just watch."
His eyelid twitching yet again, Vlad watched. To his immense surprise, he saw youthful versions of himself, Jack, and Maddie walk through the door. And it wasn't long before he realized that it was a replay of the incident that had given him his powers.
When it was over, he turned to his tormentor. "So, the point of all this would be...?"
The ghost smirked. "Oh, no point, really. I just like leading you on."
Twitch. "Just take me back home and let me get some goddamn sleep."
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This time, Vlad was taking no chances. He stayed in ghost-form this time, waiting for the third (and, he hoped, final) ghost to show up.
The booming (though somehow annoyingly nasal) voice surprised him not in the least. "I am the Ghost of..."
"Yeah, yeah, Christmas Future. Whatever. Go away and let me sleep!"
The third ghost, who he recognized as Technus, looked pitiful. "Aw, come on, the future's got lots of neat stuff!"
Vlad sighed, massaging a temple. "Like what?" he intoned.
Technus had obviously forgotten his line - he fished a piece of paper out of his coat pocket. "Um...the future. In the future, you die. Now, let's talk about all the neat technology they're gonna have!"
Vlad snapped. Visibly. "NO MORE LESSONS!!!!" he screamed, rising from his bed.
Technus had just enough time to mutter "Oh, shit," before the half-ghost pummeled the crap out of him.
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Morning found a very hung-over and very paranoid Vlad clutching a baseball bat and hunched over his empty bottle of blueberry vodka. Winston, his human butler, came in to ask what he wanted for breakfast - and to wish him a happy holiday. "Merry Christmas, sir," the man said cheerfully.
Winston could only wonder why a simple holiday greeting made his employer twitch in such a manner.