Merry Christmas, everyone! If you don't celebrate Christmas, happy whatever-holidays-you-celebrate!
Another Christmas fic! Wow. Although this one is short. Still. Anyway, here's Night Vale's take on Christmas. Of course, Christmas in Night Vale will not even vaguely be normal.
Disclaimer: I don't own Welcome to Night Vale.
"So remember; be careful this Christmas season, Night Vale. Don't forget the events of 1962 and take care. Protect yourselves, my fellow citizens, as much as you can. Goodnight, Night Vale. Goodnight."
With his usual sign-off, Cecil leaned back from the soundboard. Christmas could be a difficult and dangerous time in Night Vale. Cecil just hoped everyone would make it out okay.
After pulling off his headphones and leaving the radio station, Cecil made his way back to his house. His house that he shared with Carlos. It was still a wondrously new development. They'd only been sharing an apartment for a short while, not long enough for the glow to have worn off. It was glorious.
"Cecil!" Carlos called as Cecil entered their house. "What exactly happened in 1962? I heard you mention it on your show, but I don't know what happened." Cecil didn't answer. "Cecil, is something wrong?"
"What is that?" Cecil asked in a shaking voice, pointing at the corner of the room. Carlos turned.
"What, that?" he asked, looking confused. "That's a Christmas tree."
"A Christmas tree?" Cecil asked, his voice high and hysterical. Carlos nodded, looking concerned.
"Yeah. Is something wrong, Cecil?"
"We need to get it out!" Cecil cried, looking around frantically. "When was it cut down?"
"What?"
"Answer the question!" Cecil demanded. Carlos looked confused.
"About two hours ago. Cecil, what-"
"Okay, then. We've still got time. We need to get it outside and burn it. We have until it's been chopped down for exactly eleven hours and six minutes."
"Eleven hours and- Cecil, that's 666 minutes. Are you screwing with me?"
"Carlos!" Cecil grabbed Carlos by the shoulders. He should have thought to say something before, but it could be so easy to forget that Carlos wasn't from Night Vale and didn't know how things worked. "Carlos, this is what happened in 1962. Now listen. You have to trust me. Help me get the tree out of here."
"Okay," Carlos replied, nodding once. He turned to the tree. "We need to burn it, you said?"
"Yes. And fast." Cecil opened the sliding door to their backyard. He helped Carlos drag the tree out, then ran back inside for matches. The tree burned quickly.
"So what happened in 1962, exactly?" Carlos asked, breathing hard.
"Eleven hours and six minutes after Christmas trees were chopped down, they killed everyone in the house," Cecil replied. "The longer they were in the house before that, the harder it was to get them out. They killed a few dozen people before it was discovered that fire is their weakness."
"Huh," Carlos replied, looking at the burning tree. "You know, in most places, Christmas trees aren't that dangerous."
"Really?" Cecil asked, turning to face Carlos. "Do you have them every year?"
"Yeah, normally," Carlos replied. "And they've never tried to kill anyone."
"Neat," Cecil replied. His face flamed red once he said it. Why couldn't he stop using that embarrassing word! Carlos laughed.
"Yeah, I guess so." There was a pause. "So once the tree's burnt, we're safe, right?"
"Unless you have any mistletoe in there," Cecil replied. Carlos looked down, refusing to meet Cecil's eyes. "Oh Carlos, you didn't."
"Again, not dangerous anywhere else!" Carlos protested. Cecil sighed.
"I'll need a pair of latex-free gloves and a spray-bottle of orange juice with no pulp," he told Carlos. "Then we should be safe."
"I'm sorry," Carlos apologized. Cecil smiled.
"Perfect Carlos. It's alright. You didn't know." Cecil turned towards the house with a determined nod. "Now, let's go kill some mistletoe!"