Title: How the Horseman Stole Christmas
Author: Ekat
Rating: PG
Summary: The boys discuss a Christmas tradition
Characters: M, DM, J, RR
Thank you: To Rach and Michelle for telling me to kill the plot bunny, sorry girls, I listened to him instead. To Mecca for defending the Grinch. And to Dr. Seuss, a true genius, for giving us the Grinch in the first place.
Disclaimers:
1.) I don't own them. Not making any money off of this.
2.) Yes I admit I have a twisted sense of humor.
3.) No Whos were harmed in the production of this bit of fanfiction.
HAPPY HOLIDAYS EVERYBODY!!!
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The bar was empty. Not surprising considering that Seacouver was being bombarded by the worst snowstorm the city had seen in over a decade. Normally the warm currents of the Pacific kept the winters mild. Rainy, but mild. Snow was indeed a rare occurrence. But when snow did fall on Seacouver, it fell with a vengeance.
Richie Ryan didn't mind at all that Joe's was devoid of customers. In fact it made his job all that much easier. In an attempt to earn a little extra spending money for the holidays, he had allowed Joe to talk him into taking the position of bar grunt. If it needed cleaning, polishing, lifting or moving, it was Richie's job to see that it was cleaned, polished, lifted or moved. The lack of customers meant that there were fewer things to have to clean, polish, lift or move.
Joe stood behind the bar and watched his employee. Richie hummed tunelessly as he swept the floor of the main room for the third time in an hour. The Watcher smiled. Over the many years that he had known the kid, Richie had grown into a decent young man. He was still prone to periods of foolish and harebrained ideas, but he was young. He had a long lifetime ahead of him to get it out of his system.
"Hey kid," Joe called. Richie stopped sweeping to look up at his employer. "Why don't you give that broom a rest. No one's here. Let me buy you a beer."
A large grin swept across the young Immortal's face. "I think I could be persuaded to set aside my duties for a bit of refreshment. Do you think the boss will mind?"
Joe grinned back. "I think I can speak for the man when I say that he won't mind."
"Well, far be it for me to deny the wishes of my employer, especially when he's buying the beer. Just let me put this thing away," Richie said indicating the broom in his hand. Joe nodded.
Richie quickly put the broom in the supply closet and made his way towards the bar. As he sat down, Joe placed a cold bottle of beer down in front of him. He picked up the bottle, raised it in salute to his friend and took a long draft of the beverage. As he sat the bottle back down, Richie glanced at his watch. 8:02 p.m.
"Hey Joe, mind if I turn on the TV?" he asked, using his best puppy-dog eyes on the older man.
"My company that dull that you need some other form of entertainment?"
"No. Nothing like that. It's just that there's something I want to watch. It's kind of a tradition for me this time of year." Joe looked at him intensely. Richie fought the urge to squirm. "It's not as if there are any customers to bother with it."
Joe chuckled. "I guess it's ok. But we get any customers it goes off, ok?"
"Sure, no problem," Richie agreed as he leaned over the bar and fished blindly for the television remote. Moments later he stood back up, prize in hand, and turned on the television. He flipped through the channels until he landed on the one he wanted.
Suddenly the bar was filled with the sound of Boris Karloff's voice saying the famous words "Every Who down in Who-ville liked Christmas a lot, but the Grinch, who lived just north of Who-ville, did not."
Richie bounced on his stool, excited that he had not missed much of the cartoon. Joe groaned.
"You didn't say that you wanted to watch cartoons, kid."
"This isn't just some cartoon, Joe. It's the GRINCH."
Joe rolled his eyes. "Aren't you a little old for Christmas specials? I thought that watching these things are out grown around the same time that you discover that girls don't have cooties."
Richie didn't tear his eyes from the screen as he responded to Joe's protests. "You are never too old for the Grinch. I bet even the Ancient One's seen the Grinch."
"No bet. At his age I'm sure that he's done just about everything. Some things he's probably done twice just to make sure he didn't like it the first time." Richie smiled, eyes still glued to the television screen. Joe shook his head. "You really get into this thing don't you?"
"It's been one of the few constants in my life, Joe," the younger man said, turning his gaze towards his friend when the show broke for a commercial. "My entire childhood was spent hopping from foster home to foster home. There were some years that I didn't even have a Christmas. But somehow, every year I managed to see this one Christmas special. Rudolph, Frosty, Jack Frost, those I rarely saw. But the Grinch… he was my buddy."
Before the two friends could debate any further on the merits of holiday cartoons, Richie was assaulted by the tingling sensation that preceded the arrival of a fellow Immortal. He turned to face the door in time to see two snow covered figured trudge through the entrance. He immediately relaxed when he realized that the new arrivals were his teacher, Duncan MacLeod, and the oldest Immortal on Earth, the illusive Methos.
"I don't care if I do own a four by four, MacLeod, I am not driving a block further in this," Methos protested waving a gloved hand towards the door. "It isn't fit for neither man nor beast out there."
"But…" Duncan started to protest.
"Out there we face the possibility of freezing to death or worse. Here at least, we have warmth, friends, and most importantly an endless supply of beer." With that, Methos turned away from his friend and headed toward the bar.
"Nice to see that something as insignificant as a weather emergency doesn't make you loose sight of your priorities," Duncan mumbled as he followed him and sat down next to his student, whose attention had returned to the television. "Hey, Rich."
"Hey," Richie said absentmindedly, all his attention directed towards the TV.
Duncan glanced up at the television to see what had captured his young friend's attention. When he saw that it was nothing more than a cartoon, he rolled his eyes and looked at Joe questioningly.
Joe shrugged. "Don't ask. Who am I do deny a friend the opportunity to fulfill a holiday tradition?" the Watcher said as he handed Mac a beer.
"What's he watching?" Duncan asked as he brought the bottle up to his lips to drink.
"Don't tell me, Mac, that you don't recognize 'How the Grinch Stole Christmas' when you see it. I was able to accept that you had never seen 'The Rocky Horror Picture Show' before Amanda made you go see it. But you can't honestly tell me that you have never seen the Grinch before," Methos quipped from his seat at the end of the bar, his eyes, like Richie's, fixed on the TV.
Duncan's eyes traveled back to the program. "Sure I've seen it. Couple times in fact. But no so many that I could identify it with just a glance. Unlike some people, I have a life and responsibilities."
Before Methos could reply with one of his famous snappy retorts, Richie spoke up. "Do you two mind? There's only ten minutes left in show. Do you think you could keep the chatter down until it's over?"
The three other men exchanged startled glances. "Sure, kid," Methos said before taking a drink of his beer. The four men sat quietly at the bar, watching the end of the holiday special.
Ten minutes later the TV intoned the last speech of the special, "Welcome Christmas, bring your cheer, cheer to all Whos far and near. Christmas day is in our grasp, so long as we have hands to clasp. Christmas day will always be, just so long as we have we. Welcome Christmas, while we stand, heart in heart, and hand in hand."
As the screen showed the words "The End", Richie lifted the remote and turned off the television. "Thanks, Joe," he said.
"No problem, kid. To be honest, it's one of my favorite Dr. Seuss stories," the bartender confessed.
"It's a great lesson for kids that Christmas is more than material good," Duncan chimed in. "In the end, the Grinch learned that lesson too."
"The Grinch was a fool," Methos muttered. He looked up when he felt three pairs of eyes staring at him. "Well he was."
"Just what do you mean by that?" Richie demanded.
"He didn't think his attack out. That's why he failed. He rushed headlong into the scheme without thinking it out first," Methos pointed out.
Duncan put a hand on Richie's arm to stop him from leaping out and attacking the older Immortal. "Well, in the Grinch's defense, it was a spur of the moment plan."
"Which is exactly why it didn't work. I don't blame the guy in the least for wanting to shut those annoying little Whos up. Here he is, coming close to retirement age. All he wants is to be left alone with his little pooch, and he gets stuck with noisy neighbors who refuse to take into account that not everyone follows their religious practices. After fifty-three years I would have gone postal on them as well.
"But after fifty-three years, he should have seen that there was a much more obvious solution to his problem. He did not have to resort to dressing up like an idiot, tying a twig to the mutt's head and committing grand larceny," Methos observed.
"Then tell us, Oh Enlightened One, how would you have done it?" Richie snapped.
"Cut off the Whos' hands," Methos said matter-of-factly.
Joe and Duncan stared at Methos, shock and horror warring on their respective faces. Richie just sat there and blinked at him, refusing to believe he had heard what he had just heard.
"Oh, come on. Are you telling me that I'm the only one of us four that has ever bothered to listen to the words of that inane song?" the ancient Immortal protested. "They specifically say 'Christmas day is in our grasp so long as we have hands to clasp'. Ergo, no hands, no Christmas."
Richie moaned. "Great, now I'll never be able to sit and watch this special again without thinking about the mutilation of poor innocent Whos." He turned to Methos. "Thank you so much for ruining one of my few happy childhood memories."
Methos had the good graces to look ashamed.
Joe looked at Duncan. "I had always wondered what he did to keep himself busy over the eons. Now I know." He turned his attention back to Methos. "Anyone ever tell you that you are one sick man?"
Methos looked up at Joe and grinned. "The same person who called me 'one calculating son-of-a-bitch'." Joe sighed.
"Let me guess," Duncan said, "you rooted for Ebenezer Scrooge too."
"Don't get me started on Dickens, MacLeod," Methos warned. "Scrooge was nothing more than a senior citizen who was doing what he had to do to survive. But somehow the Powers That Be decided that that wasn't enough. They had to go and turn him into the poster child for philanthropy."
Duncan opened his mouth to start arguing back when Joe interrupted him. "Give it up, Mac. You're not going to win."
"And Rudolph!" Methos continued as if he didn't notice that he had won the argument. "I can't believe that parents let their kids listen to that song. It actively promotes the discrimination of people with disabilities and differences UNLESS they can be used to help the majority!"
Richie turned to Duncan and Joe. "Remind me, Methos is not invited to Easter dinner. Next thing he'll do is try to squash my dreams about the Easter Bunny."
Joe and Duncan chuckled.
Methos sipped his beer. His three friends weren't sure but they thought they heard him singing softly to himself.
"You're a mean one, Mister Grinch."
End.