Disclaimer:- There is no disclaimer. I disclaim nothing, d'ya hear me?! NOTHING! Tenchi and all his female friends aren't mine (sad to say) but the exciting characters portrayed within are. Yep, all those awe-inspiring characters, fleshed out and brought to vivid life (and death) are all mine. My precious ring. My pre- Sorry. Yes, feel free to applaud the astounding amusingness that this story does hold. And don't forget to stay for a tipple of sherry and a nicely baked mince pie. Warning: Many terrible quips done by a certain fiend of mine. Blame her.

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TENCHI'S CHRISTMAS CAPER
or
TENCHI MASAKI AND THE DEMON FROM HELL!
or
How my Christmas Holiday turned into a night of pain, suffering and kawaii presents.

Christmas. That time of the year full of presents, love, goodwill and violent stomach cramp. A time of rosy-faced cherubic children and arthritic old codgers wailing happily outside your house in an obscene parody of singing. Even more so, a time in which the shops are clogged full of lazy-boned revelers, half-drunk and worried, cantering about trying to get "that bottle of wine" or "that wreath for the door".

A time, if you will, of joy to all the people of the world (yes, including Afghanistan).

Strangely, that also includes a tiny little house in Japan, located just to the south of the main island whose name has slipped from my memory. This house was lived in by a boy, his father and six women (well, four actually, but for the sake of argument we'll say that Kiyone and Mihoshi pretty much live there), not to mention a strange muttering old bloke who ran the shrine, wrote meaningless haikus and happened to be the crown prince of an alien race that would be better explained in a less silly story.

I'm not going to go into a long, rambling and altogether pointless monologue about who the characters are. You wouldn't be reading this unless you knew who these people (aliens?) were. If you don't, I'd recommend sneaking out quickly.

You at the back with the clean hair and no acne! You can't be a regular fanfiction reader! You look too normal! CLEAR OFF!

Right. Where were we?

It was on the eve of Christ's mass, that Tenchi and the girls, plus his father and grandfather (that muttering old biddy I mentioned two paragraphs back) were sitting around the yuletide tree, which had been set up in the living room. Noboyuki was, very carefully, putting the fairy on the tree.

(Why haven't they done this ages ago you ask? Well, it's very complicated and involves one of Washu's experiments with altered dimensional realities. Oh, okay. I'm just writing twaddle. You got me.)

He wasn't having much luck however, as not being the spry young man he once was, his belly kept getting severely molested by the tree's sharp and pointy needles. "Tenchi!" He moaned as another point stabbed at his waistline, "Can't you do this?"

Tenchi looked at him in exasperation, "You always put the fairy on the tree, dad. I've never put it on."

"He's right," said Katsuhito airily, "it's always been you since he was a baby."

The women of the house watched on with a mix of horror and amusement as Noboyuki used the arm of the sofa as an impromptu step-ladder. Even so he was still an inch off, so he just propped the little doll against the tallest part. It sat there for three seconds before tilting sideways and hanging off at an angle, only the shiny lace wings that had caught on a needle keeping her up.

Ryoko stared at it. "At least it's up now," she said with a yawn. "What's all this in aid of again?"

The two oldest men in the house rounded on her. "What's this in aid of ?!" laughed Noboyuki, "Did you hear that, father?"

Katsuhito stood up from the sofa and motioned toward the others of the house, "Sit. And let us relate to you this story."

The woman did so. Tenchi raised his eyes. This was the same stick he got every year, his brain told him, why do they have to annoy the girls with it? He sat down with the rest and tried not to scream.

And so Katsuhito and Noboyuki related to them the story that had surprised and astounded children for a millennia. They told of the story of Santa Claus.

(Come off it. You didn't expect me to have the entire Christmas story played out here, did you? That's what Bibles are for!)

(And for the record, Santa Claus will be called Father Christmas as well. This is a multi-national story and no matter what you call him, he's the same man. Black is still black whether you call it noir, Schwartz or lhumpat {that's Northern Jamaican})

"So each Christmas," told Katsuhito, "a man known as Saint Nicholas in some parts, as Santa Claus in others and Father Christmas in yet more, flies the world handing presents to the good."

"What does he fly on?" asked Ayeka, partially taken aback at this strange story. Fantasy, said Tenchi's mind.

"He flies on a sled pulled by steeds. That are reindeer!" said Katsuhito. Noboyuki made some dubious whooshing noise from behind the sofa. Nobody made fun of it. In fact, everyone but Tenchi was engrossed. Mihoshi and Sasami doubly so.

"So these reindeer have wings, right?" asked Kiyone. The girls rolled their eyes as if the answer was obvious.

"No," said Katsuhito, "they fly by magic. Or a superior technology, indistinguishable from magic," he quickly added, realising his target audience.

The punters mouths fell open. "And on that one night of the year, tonight in fact, he will hand presents, as I said, to the good. But to the bad he will leave bloody bones and lumps of coal. He comes down the chimney..." Noboyuki made another weird noise, probably to try and give the impression of a fat bloater trying to squeeze down a chimney, but failed and just sounded like a deluded fat prat making kiddy noises. "... And once he's down, he places the gifts beneath the tree. Then he eats the food that's been left for him and leaves."

The girls stared in wonder. Until Ryoko suddenly spoke up, "Wow," she said, "you aren't kidding, are you?"

Katsuhito and the recently risen Noboyuki shook their heads. Tenchi sighed wistfully. Why couldn't these people see how stupid they sounded?

As you may have guessed, Tenchi was a tired and cynical teenager. Although adventurous at a young age, he was also jaded. He knew that grown-ups were always spinning tales to try and while away their time and annoy the younger generation. It was a sort of game, he saw it. The adults would make up something that to them was hilarious, then would see how long it took the child to work out he'd been had. In fact, this tired cynicism hadn't let up, even upon the finding of his alien suitors. These were tangible. Fairy tales were not. It was also a plain and unhappy truth that he had believed in Santa Claus up until his eleventh birthday, ignoring the snide comments from his peers. It only clicked on that Christmas when he was given all the presents he had told his father about, but not the ones he had secretly longed for.

The spell had been broken. Although Noboyuki and Katsuhito had sternly continued with the tradition of the red-suited giver, Tenchi had not. He had taken to just ignoring the entire idea entirely, for, as he believed, there was no Santa Claus.

However, what Tenchi didn't realise (although Washu would have been able to back it up with scientific proof) is that if enough people believe, I mean really believe, in something it may just come true. Of course, Tenchi was a teenager, a kind hearted, slightly naive one, but still a teenager. He wouldn't have believed it even if Santa Claus happened to stop at his house, offered him a bottle Dom Perignon 1866 and then clubbed him about the face with a frozen reindeer dropping.

"Now," said Noboyuki, dusting himself down, "does everyone understand why we do this?"

Everyone nodded, even Tenchi.

"Good. Now let's watch late evening Christmas Eve television!"

Everyone cheered.

And lo', that evening was spent watching the myriad pictures generated by a certain Scotsman's invention (Oh, you're thick. It's a television!) They watched yuletide programmes and films that were a good three years old but were hailed as 'Premiers'. They watched "National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation" and some of "Titanic" but it was boring and ever-so-slightly rubbish, so they gave up.

Slowly the residents of the house drifted to bed, yawning, aching for some shut-eye. Eventually only Katsuhito, Tenchi, Noboyuki and Sasami were left. The young princess stared at them with wonder. "Grandfather," she asked, "was what you said all real?"

"Of course it was," said Katsuhito. Noboyuki smiled and looked at Tenchi, who just stared blankly at the wall, admiring the fact that it obviously had more sense than the others in the room.

"Can I leave some food for him?" asked Sasami. Noboyuki handed her a mince pie from a tray on the table, "Put that by the fireplace," he said.

She did. Noboyuki stretched, "I think it's bed time for us all, ay, Tenchi?" He grinned wolfishly at his son. Tenchi ignored his not so subtle matchmaking and headed for bed, the others, bar Katsuhito, close at his heels.

Tenchi's dream was rather strange. It involved talking forks that kept on trying to stab him. It also had Edgar Allan Poe's clone speaking in tongues, but that wasn't the strangest part. The most strange part was the feeling that someone was slapping him about the face and telling him to wake up. Interestingly, that wasn't part of the dream. It would probably have been more interesting if a backwards speaking horror author wasn't in the dream, but then beggars can't be choosers. Otherwise they wouldn't be sitting in gutters, smelling of yak urine and trying to talk you out of your hard-earned coppers.

Sasami was whispering for him to wake up, while very carefully slapping him about the chops. He awoke with a start and sat up suddenly.

"No! Not the Raven!" he cried and then slipped back to sleep. Some more forceful slaps brought him awake.

"Are you okay, Sasami?" he asked, rubbing his cheeks. He knew they'd be sore in the morning. He looked at his bedside clock; 11:59. Yep, he'd certainly hurt in the morning.

"No, Tenchi," whispered Sasami quietly, "Y'know Santa Claus?"

"Not personally," said Tenchi, wondering why she couldn't go and harass his father or someone who believed. The gentle snores from outside gave him that answer; everyone was in a Christmas Sleep Coma (tm).

"I think he's here. But he's not doing it right." She put her finger to her lips and motioned for him to listen.

Tenchi looked at her, "Eh?"

"Shhhhh!" she shushed. Sure enough there was a noise from downstairs, a quiet tiptoeing. As if someone was trying to be obvious, but be quiet about it. There was a slight clang. Tenchi got out of bed and thanked his lucky stars that he always wore a pair of light trousers and a tee-shirt for bed. With Sasami in tow, he crept toward the stairs.

As he drew closer the noise increased in volume. Gently he took the stairs, putting his feet down lightly. He stopped and stared at what was going on in his living room. Sasami quietly pointed toward the Christmas tree and whispered into Tenchi's ear, "See."

Something, or rather someone, was crouched next to the tree. Dressed in red with white trimmings and a long bobble hat, its features were hidden. Next to it sat a heavy looking bag and a half eaten mince pie. "Now for Ayeka," it said with a surprisingly cheerful voice and reached into the sack. It brought out a nicely gift wrapped object and set it down in underneath the tree's needles. "Ryoko, Ryoko, Ryoko. Naughty or nice?" it asked itself before answering its own question, "She means well. So.... nice." It took another present from the bag and set it down. There was a slight pause as it drew a long sheet of paper from the innards of its coat and read it.

"Tenchi," it said. "Tenchi Masaki. Now has he been good, or has he been.... naughty." It rolled the word around its mouth for a second.

Tenchi stepped off the stairs and stood at its foot, "Dad?" he asked.

The thing in the coat stood up and span around. A worried face stared at him from behind white bushy eyebrows and a huge beard. "Oh my!" cried Santa Claus in alarm, "What a naughty boy you are!"

"You're not dad!" squeaked Tenchi trying to keep from falling over in shock.

"Do you want a present, you bad, bad boy?" cried Santa, grabbing something from his bag.

He lunged forward and swung out with the object he'd grabbed from his bag. There was a bass clang and Tenchi staggered backwards, a brilliant light exploding before his eyes. Santa brought the lead pipe down on Tenchi's head again. He had painted it with red and white stripes, so it looked like a straightened candy cane.

"TENCHI!" Sasami yelled.

"Go to bed, little Sasami," said Santa, bringing the pipe down on Tenchi's head, "I'm just giving naughty Tenchi some bones." He stared at the retreating figure of Tenchi, crawling toward the kitchen door. "His own."

Sasami didn't know exactly what to do. She stood there, torn between helping Tenchi (and in the process, losing any hope of being a good girl) and helping Santa beat the living stuffing through Jelly-fish Boy... Sorry, Tenchi. Unfortunately she was doing more of the latter, by humming and harring over what to do.

Tenchi's fingers were just closing around the kitchen door's handle when the lead pipe came down on them. Something gave with a snap, and let's put it this way, it wasn't the pipe. He yelped and looked up into the glowering eyes of merry Santa. "No one sees Father Christmas and lives," he said.

"What about... Sasami?!" screeched Tenchi, trying to hold his smashed fingers. "Who'd believe her?" asked Santa jovially. He held up the pipe, "D'ya want this gift wrapped?" He brought it down on Tenchi's nose.

Sasami watched as Tenchi was dragged along the living room by his nostrils. The teenager was then gripped by his neck and then had his face slammed onto the table top. BANG! His already mangled nose oozed hideously. "ZAZAMI!" yelled Tenchi

BANG!

"Get..."

BANG!

"Help..."

BANG!

"Phone..."

BANG!

"Police..."

BANG!

"Gow!"

BANG!

"'ELP!"

Sasami stood there, rooted to the spot as Santa Claus dragged Tenchi's bloody body by his ankles toward the kitchen. As the pair disappeared into the cooking area, Sasami ran over to the door and stared on.

Tenchi was tossed onto the work surface. He felt weak and he could see that Santa was taking something from the kitchen top behind him. The jolly fat man waved the steak tenderiser in front of the teenager's face. "Feeling a little tender?" asked Santa, and he brought the mallet down on Tenchi's groin.

"AAAARRRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHH!"

Santa smiled at him, "You are now!" He brought it down again. This time a little harder. Then he repeated it a few more times for impact (excuse the pun).

The red suited bloke tossed the wooden implement over his shoulder. It landed on a few neatly stacked plates, reducing them to fragments. With a careful eye, Santa surveyed the kitchen. His eye lingered on the electric carving knife, but then passed on just as quickly. An assortment of blades. A lovely large kebab skewer. A wok (you'd be surprised how much having your head beaten about with a wok hurts). It finally stopped on the gas stove. It was a nice one, with large cooking compartments for big birds like chicken and turkey and Ryoko.

Uh. Oops.

He got the moaning Tenchi in a headlock and pulled him over to the cooker. The boy writhed for a second but a knee to the sternum stopped him, then Santa jammed Tenchi's head into the cooker's oven. "Is it me, or is it cold in here?"

"No!" came Tenchi's terrified, yet muffled, voice.

"Feel what it's like for the turkey, boy!" yelled Santa and turned the oven on at gas mark 3. Leg kicking wildly, screaming blue murder, Tenchi couldn't escape. Santa was pushing his head into the machine's innards. "STOP! OH GOD! NO! IT BURNS! MY EYES!" wailed Tenchi.

"Don't worry, little boy," quipped Santa joyfully, "I'm just getting warmed up!" He turned the heat up to maximum, namely gas mark 12. There was the stench of burning hair and cooking meat. "Smells good!" laughed Santa, happily, "Extra crispy!"

Sasami's hands were numb and she was having difficulty pressing the phone's buttons. She dialed in the emergency number and waited as it was picked up. "Police, fire service or ambulance?" came the nasal voice from the other end. From the kitchen, the smell of cooking bacon was drifting. "All three," said Sasami.

"Hang on, please," said the voice.

"Okay," said Sasami.

"You don't need to say 'okay'," said the voice.

"Okay," said Sasami.

There was a brief pause and a new voice came on. "Thank you for calling the Okayama Prefecture Police Department. I'm afraid we're all out on a case at the moment. If you would like to leave a message after the tone, please include; your name, location of crime, crime taking place and why you want us. BEEP!"

Sasami fought down her fear, "Help me! My name's Sasami... Masaki," she cried, "my brother's being killed by Santa Clause!" She rattled off the address. "You've got to save him!"

The skeleton crew at the Okayama Police Department stared at the clues that they'd laid out on the desk. "Well," said Detective Chomei, "I think we know who did it. "

"It's obvious. We've got all the evidence we need," said another policeman.

A third looked up, "Admit it. We got the proof we need to take you down."

They stared at the suspect with with angry eyes. The other men watched on.

"It was Mustard in the Library with the candlestick," said Chomei putting down his cards.

"What?! Are you crazy? I've got the candlestick!" yelled the second policeman.

"So what killed Dr. Black?" asked the third spreading his hand of cards across the office desk.

Chomei tore the murder cards from their little rest. "Duh!" he slapped himself on the forehead, "It was Mustard in the library with the rope!"

"That's why you ain't a good cop," said the second officer, "you suck at investigating!"

The answer machine on the other side of the room beeped, "You have thirteen messages."

The three men looked around. "That's the third in four minutes," Chomei moaned, "can't anyone in this city take the law into their own hands?"

He got up and wandered over to the machine. Once there he pushed the play button. "Message One," the machine wheezed and then went on to what it was foretelling. A male voice, hysterical, came on, "There's a man on the rooftop with a rifle! He keeps on shooting-" Chomei pressed the next message button.

"Two men have kidnapped my dau-"

"The guy took my radio and we've got an officer down at-"

"I just ran over some guy and-"

He kept pressing the button. Can't they let a man solve crimes in peace?, he asked himself.

The thirteenth message started up. "Help me! My name's Sasami... Masaki." He pressed his finger on the fast forward button, "My brother's being killed by Santa Claus!" squawked the tape. Chomei looked around to his colleagues.

"Hey, Eitoku! You hear that?" The other men glanced at him, "Some cute kid says Santa's killing her brother! Sweet, huh?"

The other men laughed. "Ain't heard one like that before!" said Eitoku, "Well, 'part from that time that homicidal maniac who thinks he's Father Christmas went on the rampage and killed all those people because they saw him. Then three weeks ago he escaped from prison, leaving two guards on life-support machines." The three men laughed again, heartily.

"You know what, Eitoku?" asked Chomei, still chuckling, "Why don't you get the SAT teams down there and I get the Police Chief before we all get fired."

Eitoku guffawed, "That's a real good idea, Chomei. A real good idea." They sat there for three more seconds before leaping into action like a rusty, quadriplegic U.S marine who's had a lobotomy.

Tenchi was being frog marched up the stairs. He was wondering through all the pain why no one had woken up. There was enough noise to wake the dead. Then he remembered who's house he was in and realised that he was at the centre of strangeness. Why else would Santa Clause be committing Grievous Bodily Harm about his person. Blood was dribbling from his nose and forehead and leaving a trail along the floor. Eventually they had ran out of landing. They had passed all the bedrooms and no one had stirred, so now they stood facing the first storey window.

Santa twisted Tenchi's face to look into his. "My reindeer can fly. Can you, boy?"

"Please, no," whispered Tenchi.

"Noél," said Santa Clause. "May peace be with you! Or is that, MAY YOU BE IN PIECES!"

He readied to push Tenchi forward, to push him headlong through the window, when a majestic voice cried out from behind;

"HALT!"

Santa span around. Standing at the top of the stairs, with Sasami behind him, was another man. He had a white beard and hair, but his was decked with holly and his long cloak, which dragged the floor, was made of green cloth.

"He may be naughty. But you have been much naughtier," said the man.

"Saint Nick," said Santa, still holding Tenchi's arms. "Saint Nick, little Tenchi is a very naughty boy." He kicked the teenager in the shins for emphasis, "Very, very bad."

"No worse than you," said St. Nick, "Now unhand him, before I clobber you with my staff." He drew a very large crook from behind his back. Santa drew his red and white lead pipe (now mostly red) from his belt. The pair charged.

The fight crashed about the house. St. Nick was deftly pushed back down the stairs, but he savagely fought back, managing to knock some shiny buttons from Santa's tunic. The cost was great. During the Battle of the Living Room, Saint Nicholas's lovely green cloak was torn at a seam. Roaring with anger, he clubbed Santa as if the red tunic wearing lunatic was a baby seal.

The evil imposter lay prone, draped across the dining table.

St. Nick and Sasami, very gently, carried Tenchi back downstairs and put him on the other sofa.

It took a good amount of time for our hero to regain consciousness (Tenchi, not Santa). He sat there as Sasami gently dabbed his forehead with a flannel and St. Nick told him everything.

"You see," said St. Nick, "it took me only seconds to realise you were in the grip of a madman."

Tenchi winced and looked back at him, "Why didn't you help me earlier?" he asked.

"That's easy. I don't like you very much," replied the green cloaked man, "I have to give you nice presents every year, but NO," he made a hoity-toity noise, "You can't believe in me, can you?

"Do you know the trouble I go to all year around? Buying all those presents from various institutions at cut-rate prices, getting my elves to make sure they work, gift wrapping them and not even getting to see your face when you open that lovely Playstation 2 or that beautifully crafted pair of socks?"

Tenchi hung his head slightly, then realised that it hurt quite considerably, so stopped doing it. "I'm so sorry," he muttered, "I didn't realise. All these years- All those presents- And now this." He looked over at the prone figure of Santa Claus. "I don't deserve any presents," he said honestly.

"Too right!" St. Nick acknowledged, "You can have this!" He took something from the folds of his robe and tossed it into Tenchi's lap.

The coal stared blankly up at him. "It's what I deserve," said Tenchi.

Saint Nick cocked an eyebrow. "No. What you deserve is the biggest kick up the arse, anyone has seen this side of the Apocalypse. But-" he looked over the battered youth, "I guess you've had close enough."

"From now on, I'll believe in you Mr. Christmas," Tenchi said gently. Sasami smiled happily and dabbed at another cut, "That's a good Tenchi."

"One thing puzzles me though" Tenchi said, "Why are you wearing green?"

"Ah, now that is a question. You see the tales of a gift giving senior citizen is not a new one. It relates to an even older time, far surpassing that of Christianity, going back to the Pagan festivals of Neolithic times. A time when the cheese sandwich was worshipped as a god in Britain and had large stone circles erected in its honour, at a time when America was overrun by red skinned natives who learnt to care for the world rather than fill it with crap and leave it for the younger gen-"

"I get the point." Tenchi groaned, as Sasami pressed a little too hard on a deep cut, "Where do you come in?"

"I was the one who brought good harvests to the people who joined in the festivals of Paganism. If it weren't for me the idiots would still be sacrificing each other." He added proudly, "Sometimes I even gave the children little things. Course, I dressed in the green of the plants. I was the Bringer of Harvests back then.

"Then in Victorian times, people remembered me. Dressed in green and laughing happily, I'd give presents to the rich and as many poor as I could. It was hard, you believe me. Yep, I even met Queen Victoria. All she wanted was a little wooden spinning top." He wiped a tear from his eye which, at the thought of happy memories, had welled up. "Then those morons at the Coca-Cola company ran a campaign to get me to endorse their products." The tears dried up to be replaced with anger. "ME!!" he bellowed.

"Well, they just changed the colour of my clothes and made a character who laughed 'Ho Ho Ho!' all the time. What sort of laugh's that, I ask you? It's not even remotely normal. You'd scare more children than you helped! So the world took to the Coca-Cola idea, leaving me helpless. I nearly took up a lawsuit but I couldn't find a lawyer who'd believe I was real.

"In the end I decided to go incognito and that's the true story of jolly old me." He smiled at Tenchi warmly, "Understand?"

Tenchi nodded, "Sort of. But why didn't I get the presents I secretly wanted?"

"What the Hell do I look like?" groaned St. Nick, "A bleeding psychic? I can't give you stuff unless you tell someone, y'know!"

"ARRRRGHHHHH!" screamed Sasami, pointing wildly behind St. Nick. "Santa Clause!" she screamed.

"Where?" cried Saint Nick.

"No!" wailed Sasami, "He's moving!"

And sure enough the once inert form of Santa Clause, was beginning to wake up. His hand clenched convulsively and crawled spider-like toward the lead pipe that was lying on the carpet. St. Nick leapt toward the table, crook in hand, and towered above the red form.

"BAD SANTA!" he roared, "SCARING SASAMI!" The crook came down on the fat imposter's head. SMACK! He brought it down again on the head again, even harder. There was an even louder snap, but this time it was from the crook. Its bent tip flew off to the other side of the room, leaving Saint Nicholas holding a long rod that was a good foot shorter than it should have been. "Bugger!"

The hand that had been reaching for the pipe suddenly shot upwards and grabbed hold of the green draped man's beard. The owner of the facial hair collapsed onto the table with the other man, who seeking the advantage, brought on a hideous brawl of biting and elbowing and gouging of the eyes with nails.

It was then that the entire house was awoken to the sound of a trio of helicopters and the entire Okayama Police Force arriving on their front doorstep.

Twenty-two police cars, sixteen motorcycles, six SAT trucks, a mobile emergency bus and three helicopters zoomed up the mountain road to the Masaki residence. The arrived with a screech of tires and the usual excitement that takes place when a full scale assault is about to occur.

Uniformed officers, dapper in their blue, cordoned off the road from imaginary vehicles that might not hinder their delicate operation. Battle hardened SAT (that stands for Special Assault Team. And they are real) members checked their body armour and readied their weapons, all the while scowling menacingly and goadingly at the Masaki house. The three helicopters buzzed the building, search lights flickering. Three minutes after they were all set up, a quartet of news vans, smelling the scent of a cheap hack, arrived and unloaded their cargo of reporters, cameramen and boomers.

"Right," said Detective Chomei, who was heading the operation while the Chief of Police skulked at the office in fear of his life, "SAT 1 will go in through the front door, SAT 2 through the back door and SAT 3 will be helped by the JSDF sappers we got from the barracks back in Okayama to build a large underground tunnel." He was hiding behind one of the police cars furthest away from the house. The SAT leaders nodded at their officer's excellent plan and ran off to set the plan into motion. Quickly Chomei picked up the megaphone next to his feet, stood up, motioned to the dozens and dozens of policemen that were aiming toward the house and shouted, "SANTA CLAUSE! YOU HAVE TWENTY SECONDS TO COME OUT! OR WE'LL OPEN FIRE!"

The policemen opened fire.

"NO, NO, NO!" boomed Chomei through the megaphone, "WE WAIT FOR TWENTY SECONDS!"

The policemen stopped.

"THEN WE OPEN FIRE!"

The policemen opened fire again.

"NO! DON'T FIRE UNTIL I SAY... 'FLUFFY'!"

The policemen stopped.

"GOT IT? SO... FIRE!"

No one even moved.

"THAT'S BETTER!" He cleared his throat, "SANTA! YOU HAVE TWENTY SECONDS TO SURRENDER! THAT'S COUNTING THE TIME WE WERE SHOOTING AT YOU!"

Inside the house all hell was breaking loose. St. Nick and Santa were rolling about the floor, trying to kill each other. Ryoko was staring out of the bullet shattered window of her bedroom at the police below. "What-" she cried, "is going on?" Her bedroom door was thrown open as the others of the house burst in, knocking her to the floor. Ayeka, Kiyone, Mihoshi, Noboyuki and Washu, ignoring Ryoko's pleas for them to stop standing on her head, watched the morass of vehicles and men.

"What is going on?" asked Ayeka. Ryoko clawed her way into a standing position, "I already asked that," she sniped.

"Obviously not well enough if you don't have an answer," Ayeka spoke, nose raised high.

Kiyone watched as the man with the megaphone put it on the hood of the cruiser and turned to two policemen who were half marching, half dragging a white wearing figure.

"We found this guy wandering about at the shrine. It's got to be our killer!" the first of the two policemen said, roughly holding the old man's arm.

Chomei looked at the two officers and their charge, who was dressed in a white kimono. "That isn't Santa Clause! And why's he get gaffer tape over his mouth?"

The two policemen looked at the old man's mouth. "He attacked us," said the first. "With a big wooden sword," said the second. "It's obvious he was up to no good," the first carried on. The second beamed happily, "We were going to rough him up. Ask a few questions."

The Acting Chief of Police stared at the old man, "This isn't Santa," he said again. "He's got a piddly little moustache, but no beard!"

"He shaved it off," said one of the arresting officers.

"For goodness sake. He isn't our man, now take him outside the cordon, untie him, de-gag him and give him a nice cup of tea."

"And break his kneecaps?" asked the first officer.

"No! Don't break his kneecaps!"

"What about if he tries to escape?"

Chomei sighed. "What about it?"

"Can we do it then?"

Drawing his service revolver, Chomei threatened the two men dearly. "Look. Bugger off before I shoot you."

"But he could be a dangerous madman!" cried one of the pair.

"Another?"

"There could be two. A double team, rampaging the mountainside and brutally mutilating those who stand between them!"

"The only pair of madmen around here are you. Now sod off before I set the SAT teams on you."

The two policemen threw glances at each other and then frog marched their charge toward the edge of the police barricade. On their way, they passed the 'Okayama Nightly Information' team which was broadcasting a special early morning Christmas episode.

"Yes," crooned the reporter into the camera, which had been set up to give a presiding view over the house, the police and everything in between. "Here I am, standing outside the house owned by-" She looked off camera at the hastily scribbled cue card being held up by the grip boy. "Outside... the Majestic residence."

"Masaki," whispered someone off screen.

The reporter smiled dutifully, "Outside the Misiki residence, where, in the late hours of yesterday a homicidal maniac entered the house and set about brutally slaying those inside. We at "ONI" believe everyone in the house is probably dead or at least dying. And if that wasn't bad enough, the entire scene has been turned into a disgusting media circus by our rivals... 'Okayama Nightly News Seven'."

"Hey!" yelled the reporter from Okayama Nightly News Seven, which just happened to be reporting at the same time.

Behind the ONI reporter, there was a bustle of movement. "I think something's happening." she said, before the entire house dropped two inches in its foundations, a helicopter tried to land on the roof and two SAT units entered through the front and back doors.

Tenchi was too busy watching Santa and St. Nick to pay much attention to the sirens and the shooting and the chaos that was taking place outside. A small part of his subconscious mind was particularly pleased that he had doubly reinforced the house's walls, in case of any accidental Ryoko damage, as this had appeared to stop the full effects of heavy duty slugs being fired at your abode. Sasami was staring at the rolling green, red and white mass that was the two Yuletide assailants. Then the entire floor jolted as though it had suddenly dropped, which in fact it had. There was a crash from the front door. Then a crash from the back door. Then the table that sat in the corner of the room fell through the hole in the floor that had just appeared.

From Ryoko's bedroom window those upstairs saw black clad men charge toward the front door beneath their field of vision. "Downstairs!" shouted Noboyuki and at that they all fled from the bedroom. They probably would have made it to the stairs if it weren't for the fact the landing window suddenly shattered and two SAT members rappelled into the corridor. The two groups stared at each other. "FREEZE!" bellowed one of the SAT through his respirator.

"What the hell is going on?!" screamed Ryoko loudly. The two SAT men threw worried glances at each other. They looked back at the clan, "Some boy was being murdered downstairs. Didn't you know?"

"Tenchi!" wailed Mihoshi. The other women's' eyes stared wildly. Noboyuki's jaw dropped. As a body they leapt for the stairs.

"HALT!" cried the SAT, "or we'll be forced to shout more challenges at you!"

"Or in your general direction," followed up the second, but there was no one there to talk to. "Oh bugger," he hissed, "Why we don't just shoot them, I don't know."

The three SAT teams had entered how they were meant to. The doors blown off their hinges, the men moved in. The tunnel caused a minor collapse of the foundations and the slight concussion of a JSDF engineer who was hit on the head by a falling table. In fact the only problem was the helicopter that, after dropping two officers through the first floor window, happened to try and land on a TV van. It could have been worse. At least no one had died. Yet.

Chomei burst in behind the front door entry team, revolver in hand. The two SATs had already contained the situation which made him a bit happier and so he traipsed into the living room behind a bunch of armoured officers and a few other policemen who had jumped in for the ride. His eyes rounded on the scene.

On a sofa by the edge of the room sat a youth, bloodied and disheveled. He was also being smothered by a collection of, if he didn't say so himself, voluptuous women that he wouldn't mind finding in his stocking Christmas day. Or today, his brain told him. There was also two bearded angry looking men who were arguing loudly with the policemen that were handcuffing them.

"Unhand me!" growled the green wearing one.

"Kill you all! Kill you all!" crowed the red wearing one.

Chomei waved his pistol at the men, "These two appear to be our evil murderers! Book 'em, Danno."

The arresting officers stared at him. "Just get 'em in the paddy wagons."

The was a severely long pause. "Arrest them."

Policemen looked on dumbly. Chomei sighed, "Hit 'em with the sticks and throw 'em in the van."

The policemen did as they were told, as the Acting Chief of Police walked over to the aching Tenchi and sat down next to him. "Mr. Masaki," he said warmly (he used his powers of detection to work out who was the Tenchi Masaki of the household), "I'm Detective Chomei. I'd like for you to take our warmest thanks for helping us catch these rampaging lunatics. Your valiant effort at being bait paid off!"

The girls were astounded. "You used yourself as a lure, Lord Tenchi?" asked Ayeka.

"He did more than that," smiled Chomei, "he practically got beaten to death in the process. That takes guts! Which from the amount of blood that soaks his clothes, Mr. Masaki has a lot of!"

Ryoko beamed, "Well, he is mine."

Chomei stood up to go, casually making sure he made it into the picture that a photographer was snapping for the National Herald. Tenchi's hand caught at his sleeve.

"Wait," he said, "don't... let anything happen... to Santa." Carefully Chomei removed Tenchi's bloody hand from his clothes and tried to brush away the crimson mess that was still clinging.

"Mr. Masaki, there isn't a real Santa here." He bent down until his head was level with Tenchi's ear, where he whispered, "He isn't real, y'know."

"But he is. The man in green-"

Chomei cut him off, "That man is obviously just as mad as the other. What sort of idiot would dress in green, while pretending to be Father Christmas? Only a colour blind one, I can tell you!" The policeman whistled loudly and motioned to the bustling mass of uniforms that were taking photographs and collecting statements from their fellow officers. "All right, everybody out!"

They streamed out into the night, the last hollow cry, "Get me a lawyer, Tenchi! Get me a lawyerrrrrr!"

"We'll collect a statement from you in a few days," said Chomei to no one in particular, "it is the time of goodwill after all." He straightened his tie and, stepping over the assorted rubbish that had been left from the raid, left via the front door, which he carefully propped up against the doorjamb to try and block the gaping hole.

The door opened again and his face slid back in. "Merry Christmas," he intoned, then was gone.

The people in the house walked toward the window, half carrying Tenchi. The last police car was already leaving, along with the helicopters and the news vans, which upon realising that the killer was captured had gone home to eat pudding and drink copious amounts of saké. Only a single figure was in the area, walking toward the house. Dressed in white, battered and bruised with his right knee at an awkward angle, Katsuhito limped his way home. His mouth had a very large, very raw, very red rectangular patch around it, as if someone had torn a very large amount of tape from it. "Tenchi!" he shouted, "you have a lot of explaining to do!"

And so Tenchi told them. He told them everything, from stirring beginning to bloody end. He pointed to all the wounds modestly and described exactly what had happened to him. Strangely, even though he pointed out quite truthfully that he was a cack-handed buffoon who couldn't fight back against a bearded biddy, the others thought he was super. Tenchi even went so far as to say that he would pay for St. Nick's lawyer, if only he could scrape up the cash. Katsuhito was proud to help pay the money. After New Year's day though, as he didn't have that kind of money just laying about his shrine. Then they went to bed and slept the six hours until 10:00 that morning.

Then they all came back downstairs, all except for Katsuhito who wandered back from the shrine, to open the presents that had been left in the night. Of course, only Sasami and Tenchi knew that those presents were left by the maniac Claus and not by the real duffer who came around every year and that worried them.

(On a lighter note, everybody else in the World got presents from the real bloke, because he'd decided that presents were more important than Tenchi's well-being. Which is understandable really.)

But their worries were in vain, for the presents were better than they had hoped. Or, at worst, only a little bit less than what they'd wanted.

Sasami tore the wrapping from the largest present under the tree, but was stopped just in the nick of time by Ayeka and Ryoko, who pointed out that you're only supposed to open the presents that are addressed to you. So with apologies given, Sasami opened her largest present and with a lot of 'ooh'-ing and 'ahhh'-ing she held it aloft. "A full, stainless steel kitchen set with tungsten-tipped cheese knife and fully rotatable appendectomy blade!"

That seemed rather odd to the delicate sensibilities of Tenchi, so he hid behind the sofa until Sasami pointed out she'd always wanted a knife set to help her cooking.

Ryoko was next and she got a very nice collection of... erm... stuff, that she liked quite considerably. (Okay, okay, I'm pushed for time over here!)

It was a beautiful assortment of presents. Ayeka got a lovely shiny whip although, while blushing, she stated that she had absolutely no idea why anyone would wish to give her a whip. There were a few coughs and a collective staring at the feet from the males. Washu got a lovely little metal bauble thing, which no one else could make head nor tale of, but the petite red head seemed thrilled at an "Electromatsis spectiographer, complete with a bi-valve cuspid to work with all known bio-electronic adaptors ANYWHERE!" She'd hugged it and then half danced her way to the cupboard under the stairs.

The teal haired galaxy officer Kiyone was especially chuffed with the pistol holster she got, not to mention the fact that it snugly fitted her gun and her waist. Noboyuki recommended she tried it on for size, but was dutifully turned down when it was noticed the holster was meant to be worn with the underclothes.

Mihoshi collected a pair of fluffy handcuffs and a complete set of Happy Kids Fun Time Hour on VHS, which surprised everyone because of the fact that Happy Kids Fun Time Hour was a galactic show not available on Earth. Which hinted at something rather sinister about Santa Claus' collection of presents, which unfortunately will not be elaborated on here.

Ryoko tried to trade her stuff for Mihoshi's fluffy handcuffs, all the time giving lustful glances at Tenchi. Thankfully her offers were turned down, thereby stopping this fic from degenerating into some 'join the dots' T/R lemon that seems to be so popular nowadays.

Noboyuki got a very large collection of videos with no cases and no labels. He dragged them to his bedroom, locked the door and wasn't heard from for the rest of the day. Katsuhito got a nice new wooden sword. Called, I believe this is the correct spelling, a bokkon. Having never taken up Kendo I'm not sure how correct that is. He also got a pair of panties and a pair of silk stockings. He pretended they weren't his and took them outside for 'burning' (for burning read, 'wearing and mincing about like a reject from the Rocky Horror Picture Show').

And Tenchi. He got his coal, a very bruised and battered body and a severe love of Christmas. He'd learnt a very valuable lesson that night.

But this wasn't the end of the story, because as T. S. Eliot once wrote, "What we call the beginning is often the end. And to make an end is to make a beginning. The end is where we start from." What that means I have no idea, but it seems to fit in with the general gist of what's happening here.

During a roaring dinner and a good deal of booze, Tenchi suddenly leapt up from his seat. "I've got to get down to the carrot patch!"

"I'll come," said Sasami.

Tenchi looked at her and the others who were still holding their chopsticks. "Er... no thanks Sasami," he muttered, feeling a strange case of deja vú.

"I've got to check on the carrots. If they've frozen over-" His words trailed off. Everyone knew what would happen. Ryo-ohki would starve and if that happened, not only would it be cruel to see a hungry cabbit, but the creature might even turn into a spaceship and blow up the house. Like last time.

Groggily, and without a goodbye, Tenchi grabbed a coat from the hall, tried to put woolly gloves on his hideously sore hands and, when finding the bandages stopped the gloves from fitting, stormed out of the front door. He then immediately headed for the main road, stopping only to grab a hoe from the shed and to go back inside to put on some shoes.

It took him considerably longer to reach the road, due to the inches of snow which suddenly opened from the heavens as if the sky was at the bidding of some ingenious yet twisted author. He was halfway to the patch when he found the car.

It was parked at the side of the road. Actually, at the side of the road seems to imply that it was off the road. Which it wasn't. The rear right wheel was sitting in the road (as we all know the Japanese drive on the correct side of the road i.e. the left) and the front driver and passenger's door was open. Tenchi was going to walk right past it. Yet another abandoned vehicle in a country ravaged by the criminal element, he thought, but as he neared it, he realised what it was.

The police car had been snowed under a good deal. The lights were still flashing beneath the white but the siren had long since died from the cold and the wet. Tenchi sidled up to it and then wished he hadn't. A single, limp arm hung out beneath the car door, obscuring the rest of the person. A car accident?

He slipped forward even more. The radio was still clamoring into the day's chill and the blizzard.

"Chomei. Come in. Come on, this ain't funny. You're not supposed to take toilet breaks!"

Tenchi stared at the hand. A single freezing drop of scarlet rolled down from the sleeve and hung on the end of the finger. It fell, leaving a tiny red dot on the snow. Within seconds it had disappeared beneath more white.

Gripping the wooden tool tighter, Tenchi backed away carefully. No worries, his brain told him, no worries. Just get home and get help.

The radio continued its chatter, "And you're not supposed to stop with a suspect. Come on Chomei! Radio in!"

Tenchi spun around just in time to see something huge and red and smiling beneath a bloody beard, rear itself from the undergrowth from the side of the road.

"MERRY CHRISTMAS!" it bellowed as it lunged, waving its grey matter stained lead pipe.

THE END ( ? )

And of course, no good story is without a meaning. What is the meaning? In true Cowboy Bebop fashion, the meaning is simple.

"Believe in Father Christmas or face the consequences!"

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Yep, this story should be read to all children. It is mandatory. There is no 'if's or 'but's. Just do it, learn from Tenchi's mistakes, dear children. For you never know when fiction will become fact or fact unto fiction. Like America's complete non-existence. Just ask Mr. AAA-Phucknut why that is so. And yes, call it evil but he does make a weird sort of sense.

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No gratitude or special thanks to:-

The Queen Of England, Her Royal Highness, Elizabeth II:- I don't care how many years you've been doing the Christmas message. Stop it!

Alec Guinness:- Genuine class, 'e was.

Adolph Hitler:- Rede Des Teufels!

Ickle Baby Jesus:- Who was born on Christmas Day. Just like my cousins.

All the Others Out There:- I hope you get as much enjoyment reading this as I did writing it. Actually, I hate this story and haven't the foggiest why I wrote it.

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Special courtesy to:-

Santa Clause:- For breaking away from his busy schedule, to act as "Fat Policeman #4" during the siege scene. He's the one just to the left of the JSDF Sapper's engineering vehicle and is eating a rice-ball.

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"GREETINGS OF THE SEASON TO you! May the Yule log slip from your fire and burn your house down!"

A MERRY CRIMBO TO ALL MY READERS AND A JOLLY NEW YEAR!