Umm… Yeah. This is my first Nightmare Before Christmas fic (At least that I actually FINISHED…). It's just a silly little one-shot that I felt like writing. I'm sort of sadistic, and my way of showing that I like a character is to make his or her life a waking nightmare until the very end of the story. I think you'll be able to tell that I like Jack. A lot. Lol.

Don't ask me why the heck Jack went to Christmas Town, or how in the world a skeleton could catch a cold. And don't tell me that this story isn't logical, because I already know it. But then again, it's based off of a movie about a singing and dancing skeleton who tries to take over Christmas. Does it NEED to be logical? Anyways, I guess this is just a long way of saying that you've got a better chance of enjoying this if you leave your brain at home. If you happen to have disregarded my advice, don't bother telling me about it. It will just upset me. And I, in turn, will upset you. Maniacal laughter

Cough …Right. Anyways, ON WE GO!

Disclaimer: I don't own The Nightmare Before Christmas. Tim Burton, Henry Selick, and a lot of other people do. I wish I owned Jack, though. Because he's awesome. Alas, I don't. So don't sue me.

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"Jack, how do you get yourself into these messes?"

"I don't know. But I kind of wish I didn't."

Sally Skellington couldn't help but giggle as she helped her husband wrestle off his soaking wet pinstriped jacket. Jack sneezed, and his entire skeletal frame shuddered. Sally patted his shoulder before starting to leave the room. "Now, you get into something warm. I'll be right back." Jack shivered and nodded.

As Sally shut the door, she couldn't help but smile. She had warned Jack to be careful in Christmas Town. But Jack was both stubborn and… selectively forgetful. And that was on the rare occasion that he was actually listening to her. It wasn't that he didn't pay attention to his wife, he was just… Jack. And Sally loved him that way.

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"I'm back…" Sally called softly as she pushed the door open. She had to suppress a smile at the near-humorous sight that met her. Her husband - all seven feet of him – was bunched up in bed with blankets surrounding him at every angle. His pajamas hung loosely off his bony frame, making the picture look even more ridiculous. "Don't LOOK at me that way!" Jack exclaimed, fiddling with the edge of one of the blankets.

Sally chuckled. 'I'm not." She said, slipping farther into the room.

"What is that?" Jack asked, eying for the first time the tray in Sally's hands. Without a word she sat it down in front of him. "To help you warm up." she explained finally.

Jack glanced down at the steaming bowl of soup in front of him. He looked up at Sally with a crooked smile. "You didn't put Deadly Nightshade in THIS did you?"

"And if I did?" Sally asked with a mischievous grin.

Jack shrugged nonchalantly. "I'm already dead."

Sally opened her mouth to reply, but before she could, a blood-curdling scream shot through the house.

"Someone's at the door." Jack stated.

"No, really?" Sally replied with a slight smile. She sighed slightly and started towards the door. "I'll see who it is. You stay here."

Jack sneezed in response.

Sally took the many, many steps of Skellington Manor slowly and carefully, as she always had to do. By the time she was halfway down the stairs, another shriek echoed through the house. "Coming!" Sally called, picking up her pace slightly, and nearly falling in the process.

When she finally reached the door, she jerked it open with surprising force. "Oh, Hello…" She said, trying to mask her annoyance at seeing the mayor of Halloween Town standing before her.

"Hello, Sally," He said with an amiable smile. "I need to speak with Jack."

"Well…"

"Well WHAT?"

"Y-You can't.'
The mayor's head whirled around to reveal his pale, upset face. "Let me talk to Jack!"

"I told you: you can't."

"I have to! There's only 114 days left 'til Halloween, and we've got PLANS to make!"

"Well, you'll have to make them some other time."

The mayor glared at Sally for a moment before throwing out the first calculated blow. "You WILL let me talk to Jack, Miss Finkelstein."

Sally took a deep breath, trying to remain calm. "It's Mrs. Skellington, now. And I still can't let you talk to Jack."

"WHY NOT?!?"

"Because I say so." Both the mayor and Sally looked up at the top of the stairs. "JACK!" The both cried in perfect unison.

"Jack," Sally began again, "It told you to stay-"

"Jack, what happened to YOU?"

"Never mind that now. You'll hear all about it to-tomo-to-" Jack sneezed violently, and in the same turn, sent himself tumbling down the stairs.

Seconds later he found himself sprawled at the foot of the stairs, looking up at two – or was it four? Six? – concerned faces.

"Like I was saying: You'll hear all about it next week."

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"Ow!" Jack nearly shouted as he attempted climbing the steep set of stairs (A/N: Try saying that five times!)

"I told you to stay in bed." Sally reminded him.

"If I had, you would still be arguing with our illustrious mayor. He's very persistent."

"I know. But how do you intend to get back upstairs?"

"I'll find a way," Jack bravely took the next step, willing himself not to grimace at the rush of pain in his sore bones. "See, I can make it!" He glanced up at the top of the stairs. It seemed to have gotten even farther away. "That is, I think I can…"

Sally laughed and grabbed his arm. "Come on."

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It took half an hour, but Jack finally wound up back in bed. "There." Sally said, finally satisfied with the way she had arranged the blankets around her husband.

"Done yet?" Jack asked with a hint of mischievous sarcasm in his voice.

Sally hit his shoulder playfully. "I'm trying to make you comfortable!"

Jack grinned wickedly and pulled Sally onto the bed next to him. "NOW I'm comfortable."

Sally giggled before informing him: "I'm just trying to make you feel better."

Jack kissed her cheek before replying, "Don't worry. I feel better already."

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Well, I think that wins the award for the most pointless and stupid thing I've ever written. Oh well. I had a heck of a lot of fun writing it. I just wish that my first Nightmare Before Christmas story had been about Lock Shock and Barrel. Because they rock. Anyways, please R&R! Unless you want to flame me. Then you can just go.