Talk To The Hand of Christmas, Yo!

Disclaimer: A Misty challenge!

- Must include Harry, Ron, Fred, George, Ginny, and one other person of your choice

- Must take place at the North Pole

- Ginny must be horrifically afraid of Santa

- One person must be painfully out of character

- Must include intoxicated reindeer

- Must include a prank on Santa involving orange soda

- Must include scented kleenex

- Must include dancing elephants

Summary: Oh, pah!

"Harry?" Ginny whimpered.

"What, Ginny?" Harry asked, staring at a reindeer, which, strangely, was foaming at the mouth.

"I'm scared!" Ginny squealed, pointing at Santa Claus, who was chatting with a piece of scented Kleenex.

"Well, Kleenex, have you been naughty or nice?" Santa demanded, holding the tissue. He paused for a second, frowning. "Just as the person blew their nose, you slipped out of their grasp?! WHAT WERE YOU THINKING?"

Ginny whimpered very loudly.

"Oh, c'mon, Gin!" Ron said angrily, "Give up on it! Santa just isn't scary."

"That's what you think!" Ginny shrieked, running away, weeping.

Harry shrugged.

"I'm painfully out of character!" Hermione moaned, "I think I'm going to retch!"

"Hoe exactly are you out of character, Hermione?" Ron demanded, "You're moaning about something like always."

"Oh yeah?" Hermione screamed, "You think so, punk? Huh? Huh? Talk to the hand, yo!" She waved her hand in front of her face threateningly.

"Um, that just doesn't sound right with a British accent," Ron remarked, wincing.

"Hey Ickle Ronnie," Fred said casually, "Me and Fred have this hypothesis…I think we're in some retarded film."

"Oh yeah, yo?" Hermione demanded, "Where's the camera, man? This film's sure ghetto without a camera, yo!"

"Harry?" Ron whimpered.

"What, Ron?" Harry sighed, petting the reindeer absent-mindedly.

"I'm scared," Ron squealed, pointing to Hermione.

"Oh, c'mon, Ron!" Fred said angrily –

"Don't even!" Harry said exasperately, "We don't need a replay, author."

"Well, fine, Harry," I sniffled, "That's what you think!"

"Yeah that's what he thinks, yo!" Hermione yelled, "You want a piece of me, yo?"

"Not particularly."

"Geroff the story! You're supposed to be writing!" Ron argued.

"Fine."

Fred and George were cackling madly, about to tip a ginormous bottle of orange soda onto Santa's head.

"What's that, Kleenex? I should watch out for the evils of orange soda? Of course I keep my weight down! What are you –" Santa cut himself off as he was drenched in orange soda. "THE EVILS OF ORANGE!" he shrieked, running away, "CLASHES WITH EVERYTHING…SO FATTENING…"

Then the dancing elephants accidentally stepped on all the reindeer.

"Don't you hate it when that happens?" one elephant sighed, scraping reindeer off of her foot.

"Of course, dahling," another sighed.

THE END

Moral: Orange soda is fattening and evil, and redheaded girls must be kept at a five-hundred foot distance from chubby bearded people at all times.