Voiceover: "It's going to happen. And it's going to happen today."
"I'm sorry sir, it can't."
The real world pours back in and an instrumental of "Sleigh Ride" plays in the speakers.
"Don't say it..." says Dexter.
A petit blonde clerk behind a desk at a fancy toy store replies, "None of our suppliers currently have any in stock."
"Are you positive?"
"It was this year's hot selling item, I guess."
He thinks inside, "I know you don't kill the bearer of bad news, but after coming up empty at all the major retailers you start to get an itchy knifing finger," he then speaks aloud, "Thanks anyway."
He starts walking out the building, passed the line of people; he pushes the glass doors open, oblivious to holding them open for other shoppers.
His inner monologue starts rumbling, "That leaves KB Toys. I don't want to go to KB Toys; it's like an inferior Toy-R-Us. the K-Mart of toy stores. Wait a second..." he then shouts out, "Hey!" and runs over to his van.
A meter maid writes a ticket.
"What are you doing?" he asks.
"Right now?" he shakes her head and raises her eye brows, "solving complex algebra, but after that I'm writing you a ticket," say the black female meter maid sarcastically.
"I put money in the thing," he points.
"Your time's up."
"I was in line for over 30 minutes; if I got out I would loose my place. Store policy. They have a sign," he says grumpily.
"What in the world is so important for waiting 30 minutes?"
"A Mega Morphin' Power Mounty."
"Oh yeah; those things are selling like the cure for AIDs. Got one here yesterday."
"Here?"
"The last one."
"Oh. Is this really necessary, I'm with homicide in Miami Metro."
She rips it off and hands it to him, "Then you know where to pay it," and walks off to check other vehicles.
As Dexter gets into his van he thinks to himself, "Deb always likes to tell me Christmas is that special time of the year where people are friendly and giving, but really -- I've never met so many people I wanted to kill in such a short amount of time."
His cell phone rings as he buckles himself in. He flips his phone open and answers, "Morgan. I'll be there."
He looks, then pulls out.
Dexter flashes his laminate and enters the crime scene, a house.
"Hey Dex -- where you been?" asks his sister.
"Hunting."
"For what?"
They head over to Masuka who is taking pictures.
"Thee elusive and wily Mega Morphin' Power Mounty."
"What the fuck is that?"
Masuka stands and looks up, "Did someone say Mega Morphin' Power Mounty?"
"I did," he starts looking at the body.
"You find some place that sells any?" asks Masuka.
"You have kids?" Debra interjects.
"Kids? That shit is for me."
"I'm surprised it doesn't have tits," Debra toys with him.
Quick on his feet he replies, "But it does take batteries, so it might vibrate."
"Wank off on your own time, Vince."
"Lovely," says Dexter, looking at the blood.
Masuka puts his hands on his heart, "She knows my name."
Commander Laguerata clears her throat and Masuka continues taking pictures, "What do we got here, Morgan?"
"The spray pattern on the couch indicates a gunshot wound at close range from the doorway."
"Makes sense; there was no sign of forced entry. Who ever did it must have already been in the house. Cable repair man, plumber, boyfriend," suggests Angel.
"UPS guy, or some deliver service. It is that time of the year," offers Debra.
"Looks like I'm not the only one wanting to kill at this time of year," Dexter thinks. "Wait..."
"What?" asks Maria.
"This area of the couch here has no blood spray."
"So?" asks his sister.
"See how the spray traces a contour here on the head rest? There was something here but it was moved."
"That would be the other victims," Angel looks at Dexter with sad eyes.
"Other victims?"
Boom -- Dexter's heart sinks as he enters the kitchen. A little girl lies on her stomach on the floor, an arm stretched out.
"And this one," Angel walks out the back door where a little boy lie dead on his stomach too.
"Well, the gunshot wounds to their backs are obvious. Looks like from the trail of blood she was trying to drag herself to her brother."
"It takes a sick fuck I tell you, a really sick fuck. Dexter, you all right?"
"They look like Astor and Cody's ages. Excuse me," he whips out his cell phone and speed dials. Its rings and rings and finally she picks up, "Rita?"
"What's up? I'm at work right now," she says at her office desk.
"Don't answer the door to anybody you don't know."
"What's wrong?"
"Just ... we may have a killer going around and posing as a repairman or delivery guy. Please keep the door locked."
"I will. Dexter, I lov-" she pulls her phone away and looks surprised.
Dexter puts his cell in his pocket.
Standing with her arms folded in the kitchen, Maria says, "What do you mean 'killer'?"
"The shots were precise. Not excellent, no major arteries hit, but areas that would cause quick death. I -- I have to get out of this area..." he shoves his way passed Laguerata. He stands in the living room.
"Talked to the neighbors. None of them heard any gunshots," says Debra.
"Used a silencer, most likely," says Dexter.
"Various items appear to be stolen. Looks like a standard home invasion. But why didn't he just tie them up? Why kill them straight off the bat?" asks Angel, puzzled.
"I need some fresh air," Dexter goes outside. He thinks to himself, "Why now? Of all the times I've had to feel something, why now? It's not like these are the first kids I've ever seen murdered. Looks like I have two things to hunt now."
Debra grabs him by a shoulder, "Dex, what's up?"
"Ah ... nothing."
"Nothing? I've never seen you get that way ever. I thought you compartmentalized."
"I thought so too."
"I don't supposed you feel like opening up to me yet?"
"Deb..." he looks down and doesn't continue.
"Fine, when you're done being Spock, let me know," and she walks back into the crime scene.
Dexter look confused and thinks to himself, "What is she talking about? Spock was awesome."
...
Dexter walks threw the alley of desks to his lab.
"So..." says Debra who catches up from behind.
"You like to sow?"
"Fuckhead."
"I'm sure you meant that in the most enduring of ways," he replies.
"Damn right, asshole. What'cha gettin' me for Christmas?"
"A big box of condoms."
She punches him in his left arm.
"Ow -- and feisty too. I'll help you use those," Vince says from his desk.
"Vince, you want to be the first guy to die with an extra large candy cane up his butt?"
"Tempting..." he toys with a smile.
"He'd probably like that," she says to her brother.
"Well, I'm at my office," says Dexter.
"So? This isn't you Fortress of Solitude."
"Obviously not," he thinks to himself.
"What are you doing Christmas eve?"
"Hopefully wrapping some things. And your present," he sits down, "don't really know. Might have diner with Rita and the kids. Definitely be there Christmas Day."
"Well then, me and you -- we'll have a little diner, watch a movie."
"Okay."
"Good. Catch you later," she walks off.
"Probably will," he looks out his window at her while she leaves.
...
"I hate Christmas," says a very young Dexter with his dad.
"You can't hate Christmas, son."
"Why not?"
"It's the happiest time of the year. Unless you put up a good front, people are going to see you don't fell it."
"So? Do I have to be happy everyday of the year?"
"No. And truth be told, not everybody is happy on Christmas."
"Then why?"
"If not for anyone else -- do it for your sister. She loves Christmas -- don't spoil it for her."
"All right."
"And one day, hopefully, you might have someone you want to spend Christmas with and you'll have to pretend for them.
I haven't asked you yet, but what do you want for Christmas?"
Young Dexter looks at him and thinks for a second.
"Dex."
"What?" he comes out of a daze.
"What do you want for Christmas?" asks Debra.
"I don't need anything; lie," he says inside himself. He thinks aloud, "Maybe a bowling ball."
"Is that what you really want?"
"I guess."
"I gotta go do paper work. Remember -- Tuesday we celebrate. See ya," she leaves for real this time.
Dexter fills out paper work. He reads other papers. He compares papers then picks up some photos of blood from the crime scene, of the carpet after the mother was moved.
Inner monologue, "It's like a Rorschach inkblot test. And I see evil."
A knock at his lab door draws his attention; Angel; stands there.
"Hey Angel. How can I help you?"
"I'm going Christmas shopping. Why don't you come along?"
"Because I don't need witnesses when I kill the meter maid," he thinks inside. "I ... can't think of a reason why not."
"Good. I'll wait for you in the parking lot here tomorrow at about four. Merry Christmas, Dexter."
Nods his head, "You too," he watches Angel leave. "I can't even bring myself to say it. Sometimes I think I'm part of the War On Christmas. Hum. Somehow I've lead Angel to believe I'm his friendly shopping buddy. Damn."
