Author's Note: I own nothing.
In a small home, with a fire in the place, warm jazz playing in the background, and a comfortable lounge chair in the middle of the foyer, Chef Hatchet sat, a small pair of spectacles resting on his nose.
"Oh… hello," the burly man greeted with a single wave. "I'm here to tell you a little story about a boy, a show, a greedy angel, and the true meaning of Christmas. Least… that's what I'm supposed to do. But for now, I'll just tell you whatever I've got…"
The chef turned to a small table near the chair and picked up a large storybook. He turned it to some random page, and began to read off of it.
"The third season was done, and all of the contestants went back to Playa des Losers for a well-deserved break…"
"Here's to the end of another living hell!"
Responding to Heather's toast, twenty-two other contestants, former and current, raised their glasses of flavored sparkling water and downed them. It was nearing the end of the year on the paradise-esque island, and Chris, Chef, and several interns had worked to brighten the atmosphere. Wreathes, mistletoe, and other holiday-related greenery was hung up in many different places, and a tall evergreen was placed in the middle of the pool, much to the chagrin of Bridgette.
The contestants themselves were also enjoying themselves. Couples were romanticizing, rivals were arguing, friends were laughing with each other, and Cody was placing himself far, far away from Sierra. It seemed that everybody, in their own special way, were bonding over this holiday.
Everybody, that is, except for Ezekiel.
The toque-wearer sat by his lonesome near a palm tree, slowly sipping from some tropical drink he mispronounced to Lord knows how many levels. Ever since the incident when he went completely insane, the other contestants had begun to ignore him even more than usual. Even the likes of Harold, Izzy, and Bridgette, who he thought were his only friends on the entirety of the show, had started to leave him alone. Ezekiel had taken a lot of time in rehabilitation to calm himself, though it didn't help anyone else to think of him any better as a person.
"Look at 'em, eh?" Ezekiel spoke to no one. "All havin' fun and thinking that all of life's going to be aboot happiness and the future. They didn't go though what I went through, eh? They didn't live through what I did!"
Ezekiel guzzled the rest of his drink and slammed the glass on the table. "Months of solitude! Your memories practically being sold other people to talk aboot what "caused your problems" or somethin'… this is just ridiculous…"
"Anybody seen Ezekiel anywhere?"
The home-schooled one stopped his rant to look at who spoke his name. Harold was talking with Noah.
"Not anywhere important. Why'd you care, anyways?" the cynic responded, not looking up from his novel.
"Well… he didn't join us for any meals in the past few days. It makes you really wonder what he's doing. You think he's gone?" the nerd asked.
"Gone, eh? That might just be the best choice!" Ezekiel muttered to himself. "Yeah, that'll be great. No Ezekiel will mean no annoyances, and Chris'll probably love having someone leave on their own!"
"Not particularly."
Ezekiel's hat leaped off of his head as he turned to see Chris, grinning slyly and holding a small stack of paperwork.
"You know just how much we had to pay to get you all on this show in the first place? Let me tell you, it's not fun! I had to empty out my pocket change to get you here, and it's not that easy to get you out!" Chris remarked.
"Couldn't you just rip the paperwork?" Ezekiel asked.
Chris blinked, and looked down at the documents that were in his hand. "Oh. Well, I guess that could work."
With a swift movement, Chris tore the papers in two. Ezekiel flickered for a few moments, and with a very lackluster fanfare, turned invisible.
"Um," Ezekiel said.
"Yeah, I'm also part-timing as a guardian angel nowadays. The payments really lowered over the years, you know that?" Chris asked, changing into a large robe and pulling out a lyre. "So now I'm doing this for a little extra cash."
Ezekiel said nothing.
"Oh, right. What happened to you," Chris started, nonchalantly. "Well, I've destroyed your contract, thus making it so you're no longer on the show. Under my job description, I'm supposed to guide you around and see how your lack of being on the show has adjusted the lives of everybody. Any questions?"
"But… but… but…" Ezekiel stuttered.
"Yeah, yeah, yeah. If ifs and buts were candy and nuts, I'd sell the lot and I wouldn't have to be in this position! It'd be, what, ten bucks a bag or something? I just get some tourists or something and they'd be shoveling them down! Hell, that'd be better than what they call their pathetic "Christmas bonus" this year! You know how much my pay's getting raised this year?"
"I d-"
"FIVE THOUSAND A WEEK! Do the math, Zeke. That's only two-hundred and sixty thousand more a year! That's not even pocket change! That's not anything!"
A brief silence passed.
"So… am I going to be shown around or not, eh?" Ezekiel finally asked.
"What? Oh. Right. Your stuff. Yeah, sure, follow me."
With that, Chris levitated slightly above the ground and backed away from Ezekiel slowly.
"You're supposed to be following me, dimwit!" Chris hollered. Ezekiel blinked, and jogged after the host-turned-angel.
Underneath some conveniently-placed mistletoe, Courtney and Duncan were making out heavily. Ezekiel groaned in annoyance, but Chris shut him up.
"You seen Ezekiel anywhere?" Duncan asked. Courtney shook her head quickly, and continued to make out with the rebel.
"That's… not helping, eh?" Ezekiel commented.
"Maybe these guys, then," Chris started, before realizing he was pointing at Geoff and Bridgette, also making out. The host slapped his face.
"You need a moment?" Ezekiel asked, but Chris forced a palm in front of his face.
"These guys will work. Chef and I always talk about how you and Bridgette connected somehow," Chris stated in a monotone voice.
The two spirit-esque beings floated towards the kissing couple.
"Something the matter, babe?" Geoff asked as Bridgette slowed down.
"It just feels weird not seeing Ezekiel around anymore, I guess. I mean… I know he's different and everything, but I really think he's changed since that course he took," Bridgette explained. "You see it too, right?"
Geoff blinked. "So do you wanna make out more?"
Bridgette sighed, and walked away from the blond.
"That's not much, eh?" Ezekiel muttered.
"Geez. How many examples do you need to see for this? I'm not getting paid by the hour, and the less time I can do this, the better. I have some bikini models under my tree, and…"
"I don't want to know how that sentence ends," Ezekiel interrupted.
Chris scowled. "Fine, then. We'll skip the definition of my lady friends and just continue on with what YOU want to do."
Cody, Noah, and Harold all sat around a table. The trio were each holding a small number of cards as they eyed a complex diorama-esque object.
"I'll play the… um… the…" Cody began.
"Would it kill you to finish your one turn? It's been all of ten minutes now!" Noah grumbled.
"Fine. I'll play my Donkey Battalion… on your left fortress?"
"Pitfall. All of them down," Noah replied with a smirk.
"Anyone seen Zeke anywhere?" Harold asked as he rolled a die.
"Ugh, not this again. He's not that important a member of the cast!" Noah said, exasperated.
"Well, not always. Remember when they were recording the opening sequence for the first season and he wasn't there?" Cody asked.
"Yeah, I remember that! They were going to have the bear chase after you and paste a picture of Ezekiel on it with editing," Harold continued.
"That was because he was late to the recording session!" Noah retorted.
"True, but what if he wasn't on the show at all and didn't just arrive late?" Harold asked.
Noah's eyes widened.
"Also, I rolled a five. I'll place Flying Armada in your zone and invade your central fortress," the taller nerd said, placing a card on the board.
"Pitfall?"
"The key word here is "flying," Noah."
Noah smacked his face. "Invasion successful…"
"Sweet!" Harold celebrated with a quick fist-pump. "Your move again, Noah."
"Why am I still playing this when you guys are obviously ahead?" Cody piped up.
Noah and Harold stared at the geek for a few moments, and turned back to their cards.
"Yeah, this isn't helping your case much, is it?" Chris asked, turning to Ezekiel. The toque-wearer gave a slight shrug.
"Anyways, continuing on…" Chris beckoned with a wave of his hand.
Near a buffet table, Owen sat, stuffing his face full of whatever his hands could grab on to. Izzy paced near him, the crazy girl dressed in her full army attire once again.
"This is a serious issue, Owen! As long as Ezekiel is missing, Izzy won't be able to give him his present! And giving presents is what Christmas is all about!"
Owen continued to devour food, before choking on a small pinto bean. Izzy sighed, and gave the chubby boy a large thrust to the back. The small bean spat out at hypersonic speeds as it flew through Chris' left eye, the host thanking himself for his part-time job.
"Gah… Zeke? Who?" Owen blubbered before collapsing onto the ground in a heap as Eva entered, scowling.
"Ezekiel. I need to beat him up," the tough girl spoke blandly. Izzy gave a quick grin before running out of the room.
"Um… I think that if I came back I'd have the tar beaten out of me, eh?" Ezekiel said, turning to Chris again. The host had fallen asleep. Ezekiel sighed, and floated off on his own.
As his semi-out-of-body experience continued, he watched the actions of the other contestants. Alejandro and Heather were arguing through their flits, Katie and Sadie were squealing with glee as they gave each other the same presents again, Tyler and Lindsay were taking a page from Duncan and Courtney, Gwen and Trent were sharing a holiday duet, LeShawna was serving up some fruitcake to DJ and Beth, Justin running away from Sierra for whatever reason…
And that led him to Chef Hatchet in the middle of the main hall, playing a large grand piano as he began to sing…
"I see teens make out, geeks playing games
One half's love-drunk, one half's just lame
And I think to myself…
What a wonderful show…
"I see bears eating birds, and squirrels of doom
Fairweather storms, and clouds of gloom
And I think to myself…
What a wonderful show…
"The villains and the heroes make drama on the ground
Like drama's in the speech of the people all around
I see foes shaking hands, saying 'how do you do'
What they're really saying is… 'I loathe you…'
"I see losers cry, they've got no dough
But they'll be seen more than I'll ever know
And I think to myself…
What a wonderful show…
Yes, I think to myself…
What a wonderful show…
Oh, yeah…"
Ezekiel applauded, though no sound was heard by Chef Hatchet, who was now occupying himself by whacking the piano with a large knife.
"Ahem."
Ezekiel turned around to see Chris, arms crossed and ghostly foot tapping.
"I'm disappointed in you, Zeke. Watching the lives of everyone else go by is a big responsibility, and if you're not prepared to take it for yourself, then I'm afraid you're going to have to go away for a long time," the host explained, opening his lyre and exposing what looked like a portal.
"No… no, I'm not ready! I know my place now! I know my place!"
"Ezekiel?"
Ezekiel woke up and looked around. The other members of the cast were staring down at him.
"Wha… how long was I asleep, eh?" he sputtered.
"Around two days," Bridgette explained. "You sure can sleep."
"Anyway, we've saved the Christmas celebration for you. Everyone's got presents, and Owen promised to not touch the food," Harold continued.
"Because even if you're a major slimeball… you're our slimeball," Izzy finished, before the twenty-four members shared a group hug.
"Yeah, I'm hungry now," Owen said before quickly running to the buffet table, everyone else save for the toque-wearer following suit.
Ezekiel walked forward before turning back to the main cabin. Ezekiel gave a small wave, and ran up to join the others.
Chef Hatchet closed the book and stared at the cover for a few moments.
"I thought you said I was going to read some of my war stories!" he yelled at an unknown source.
"Yeah, we swapped that with this. It'll attach with the kids more," Chris yelled from backstage.
"You have me singing! I do NOT sing!"
"You do now!"
"You think I like this getup? I look like Mr. Rogers!"
"You look like you could lose a few pounds!"
"That tears it!"
With that, the chef picked himself up and flung himself in the direction of Chris.
The sounds of Chris crying for mercy were all that could be heard for hours.
Author's Note: Hey, merry whatever, guys! Like a post from Kanye West on Twitter, I return without warning and with something completely ridiculous!
The above is a little something-something to settle you over until the next chapter of Total Drama Tournament comes out… which it probably will soon. I've been incredibly busy lately.
I apologize for the lack of updates, and thank you for your patience and for reading this. May the next year provide a good source of material from both myself and you.