~A/N~ Twas a while before Christmas, and all throughout Fanfiction, not an Author was siring, not even the Trollers. The stockings were hung above the computer with care, in hopes that...OH MY GOSH ARE THOSE GHOSTS?!
Hello readers of Fanfiction! I'm ecstatic to present to you A Chris-Mas Carol! This will be a three-chapter story with updates coming at you during the middle of December, and towards the end of the Holiday month. Chapters most likely won't be very long, but I just thought I'd give you a fun little Christmas present ;)
Now, I know it's just the beginning of December, but Merry Christmas, Happy Hanukah, have a Captivating Kwanza, Feliz Navidad, Las Posadas, and Happy Holidays! (Apologies if I forgot a holiday!) ;)
(Chapter 1- The Ghost of Christmas Past)
"Elimination Time!" Chris declared as a shot of the Total Drama Revenge of the Island bonfire pit was shown. The five remaining contestants, Cameron, Zoey, Scott, Jo, and Lightning sat on the first five seats behind the bonfire. Chris stood behind his oil drum, and Chef was next to him in a yellow hazmat suit, the Toxic Marshmallow of Loserdom in a large box in his hands. "Cameron, you took out Heather, so you're safe. But the rest of you are on the chopping block!"
Frogs and some nightly bugs made their noises as the fire flickered from the bonfire and the tiki torches surrounding the ceremony. Cameron was shown holding his marshmallow with a smile on his face.
"Regular marshmallow means you're safe! Toxic Marshmallow of Loserdom means you're out, and probably mutated." Chris said without a care. "Zoey...you're safe." Zoey let out a happy gasp and eagerly caught her marshmallow.
"Scott, also safe," Chris said, tossing the annoyed dirt farmer a marshmallow, "And, with two votes against, the Toxic Marshmallow of Loserdom goes to..."
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"Jo!" Chris pointed in the direction of the female athlete. Jo's eyes widened and she ducked just in time as Chef tossed the toxic marshmallow over her head, sinking into the dirt behind her.
"I deserve to win this!" Jo shouted. "You traitor, you backstabber-" She snapped at Cameron, pointing a finger and then getting ready to punch. However, before she could do so, Chef pulled her away, much to Cameron's relief.
"Ah! I learned from the best." Cameron said happily, pointing back at the jockette who was being dragged away by Chef, still in his hazmat suit.
"You– you know, you're right." She said, starting to smile. "Nice technique kid!" She gave him a thumbs up. "But you! You're an idiot! You couldn't even tell I was a girl!" She snapped at Lightning, pointing an accusing finger at him.
He gave a confused look. "You're WHAT?!" He cried in utter shock.
The camera flashed to Jo sitting angrily in the Hurl of Shame, her arms crossed. "Any last words to your fellow competitors?" Chris asked.
"Yeah! In your face Light-NIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIING!" She screamed as Chef pulled the lever, launching her into the starry night sky.
The camera zoomed in on Chris's face. "And then there were four! Who will win the million? Who will get crushed while millions watch and laugh," He said, getting up in the camera, "Find out next time, on Total...Drama...Revenge of the Island!" He said as the camera zoomed out on the island with each pause.
"That's a wrap!" Chris said as a clap-board was was snapped in front of the camera. "Excellent work if I do say so myself." He grinned. With that, the host turned around and headed back to his trailer, whistling the Total Drama theme song.
After a short walk, he was finally at his secret cast trailer, away from the grimy, mutated camp Wawanakwa. He yanked open the trailer door and walked up the stairs and right in.
Inside was not what you might expect from a usual trailer. There was somehow a fireplace on the far end with a flat-screen TV above and recliner sitting in front of it, a carpet on the floor. The fire crackled, illuminating the room for a short period until Chris flipped on the lights. His bed with perfect Egyptian cotton bed-sheets sat near the recliner, just close enough that he could watch TV in bed if he wanted to. On the side of the room where he had entered was a small kitchen with cabinets, a fridge, a stove, a microwave, and a small counter with two chairs at it. He could make food if he wanted, but he usually left that to the caterers.
Little would any of the contestants, nor the viewing audience know, it was actually Christmas time during this season. However, due to the radiation from the island, the snow melted before it could even land, resulting in an almost eternal-summer experience on the Island. Without snow and any sign of Christmas decorations, the place looked like it took place during the summer, just like the first season, but in reality, it was cold winter time.
"What is this doing here?!" Chris wondered with disgust. He ripped a wreath from above the TV and opened the door, throwing it out. He slammed the door shut. "Ba-humbug!" He snarled.
Suddenly, there was a metallic knock on the door. "What now?" The host complained, storming over to the door and yanking it open. "What do you want?"
It was one of the cameramen. He gulped. "Uh, I just was wondering, could I maybe have a raise? My daughter really wants a Dakota dolly, but I don't really have enough to buy one for her." He said nervously.
"Well isn't that sweet? Too bad, the answer's no!" Chris snapped, slamming the door on the man. He then went to the window and quickly peered between the curtains to see the man sigh and walk away sadly. "Greedy hermit." Chris muttered.
He jerked the curtains shut and went to his own personal coffee machine. He placed a cup under the dispenser and waited for the coffee to pour in. When it was done he inspected his drink. "What the heck? The foamy thing isn't working!" He complained. The host banged a fist on the coffee machine, but nothing came out. "Oh come on! Why must everything bad happen to me?"
He angrily stormed over to his recliner and plopped down, grabbing a remote from the table next to it. He clicked on the TV and it soon flickered to life. "Ugh, Christmas movies." He groaned. "Isn't there anything else on this time of year? Rancid the Red-Hoofed Reindeer? Lame." He rolled his eyes. "Chilly Billy the Iceman? Weak. A Chucky Black Christmas? Who writes this stuff?!"
He continued to flip through channels, not finding much else other than Christmas movies. "Ugh, there's nothing good on anyway." Chris shrugged. He flipped off the TV and slipped into his nightshirt, complete with a stocking-cap (not of the Christmas variety). "Ah, time for some well-deserved sleep for the world's most gorgeous host." He said, closing his eyes and pulling the sheets up.
Not a moment later, there was a loud, grandfather clock ring, but it didn't stop. Chris counted the times it rang, totaling up to ten. "Ten-o-clockt! Already?" He wondered. "Wait a second...I don't own a grandfather clock! Those are for old people!"
Suddenly, there was a gust of wind that blew through his trailer. "But I closed all the windows!" Chris exclaimed, looking around. Fog slowly entered the room and Chris gasped as a floating figure appeared towards the ceiling of his trailer. "Who-who-who are you?" He stuttered, his heart pounding out of his chest.
"Who do I look like, Mr. Hair Gel?" Chef barked. "I'm your co-host, Chef! Frankly, I'm hurt that ya don't recognize me." He crossed his arms and shook his head.
"Wha-but...you're not...what?!" Chris screamed. "How are you dead?! You were at the elimination ceremony just an hour ago! What did you do to yourself?!"
"I'm not dead ya moron, I'm just here as a ghost to advise ya." Chef said. He was dressed in his usual cook garb, but it was slightly torn. What stood out the most was that he had several chains hanging from his arms and legs, attached to cinder-blocks that looked like they should have made him fall to the ground.
"Advise me about what?" Chris asked. "And could you hurry it up, I'm tired and you're getting in the way of my beauty sleep!" He snapped.
"Well excuse me for warnin' ya about the three ghosts that'll haunt ya tonight!" Chef snarled. "There's the Ghost 'a Christmas Past, the Ghost 'a Christmas Present, and the Ghost 'a Christmas Yet to Come."
"Yeah, yeah, yeah, I've heard it before." Chris waved it off. "But I thought the last guy's name was the Ghost of Christmas Future."
"Yeah, well this is a different variation, so deal with it!" Chef shouted. "They'll be here to show ya what a gosh-darn horrible person you've been, and that ya need to be nicer and less greedy. Oh, and use less hair gel."
"What does my hair gel have to do with being nicer?" Chris complained.
"It pollutes the earth." Chef shrugged. "Now I gotta go, there's a casserole in the oven and I do not want it 'ta burn." He said. "Three more ghosts will visit ya tonight!" he said ominously. Before Chris could say anything more, there was a large wisp of smoke and Chef disappeared. The fog drifted away and the room was empty.
"Ugh! Fog is not good for my complexion. Stupid Chef ghost, I'm gonna dock his pay tomorrow." He rolled over in his bed and closed his eyes once more. Of course, the ghosts of Christmas Time had other plans.
Chris awoke to the sound of light Christmas bells. "Huh?" He asked, groggily opening his eyes. "Chef, if it's you again, you can consider yourself fired!" He shouted sleepily, shaking a fist.
The jingling of bells did not cease, instead, it got louder. "Gah! That ringing!" Chris complained, covering his ears. "Where is that coming from?!" The host now sat up in bed, looking around his dark room.
And then, there was a light. It seemed to flicker around the room like a candle, but there didn't seem to be a source. First it was under Chris's bed, then it was by his TV, next the flare was by his fridge. It floated around the room until it came to a stop at the foot of the host's bed. "Uh, hello?" Chris asked nervously. "If this is a prank, it's not funny! I can fire you immediately!"
Suddenly, the flickering flame exploded into an enormous collage of light that seemed to sparkle and shimmer, and then, there was a figure standing at the foot of Chris's bed. "Dawn?" Chris wondered, recognizing the silhouette of the petite moonchild.
A few seconds later, the silhouette got brighter until a face could be seen. It was, in fact, Dawn. "Hello Chris, I assume you recognize me?" She smiled.
The moonchild was dressed in her normal garb, except she appeared to be on fire. Like a candle, her body seemed to be the flame, yet she showed no pain. And then, she floated from the foot of the host's bed and up to his face. She was much smaller than Chris remembered.
"W-what happened to you? I flung you off of the island several episodes ago!" Chris exclaimed, now extremely frightened. "You can't be dead!"
"Chris, you stuffed me into a garbage bag, put me in a catapult, and flung me into oblivion. I could have drowned, hit a tree, pretty much anything could have happened to me. How do you know I'm not dead?"
Chris was silent. "You're not dead! You can't be! The lawsuits would be flooding in by now!" He said to her.
"None of that matters, I am here as a ghost, and I am here to teach you a lesson Chris McLean." Dawn said to him. The host couldn't help but stare at the fire flickering off her body.
"Wait, why are you on fire?" Chris asked. "That doesn't make any sense!"
"It doesn't have to." Dawn smiled. "I am here as a vision for you, a vision for you to see all that you have done. It is time to show you your past. Your Christmas past." She said.
"No way! I won't go with you! I need my beauty sleep and no fiery ex-contestant of mine is gonna change that!" Chris snapped, laying back down in his bed and pulling the covers over his head. About a minute later, Chris peeked over the covers to see that Dawn was still floating there, staring at him, almost into his soul. "Go away!" He cried, pulling the covers over his head again.
"Very well," Dawn nodded, "But not before a journey. A journey into Christmas Past." With that, Dawn extended her hands, and moments later, she had brought Chris from his bed, he was now floating.
"Put me down! I command it!" Chris shouted. "You can't take me hostage! I'm the most important man in TV!" He flailed his arms and tried to reach for his bed, but whatever force Dawn was using, it kept him from doing so.
"Take my hand." Dawn instructed, reaching out her hand. Seeing no way out of this, Chris sighed and slowly put his hand out.
"Wait, you're on fire! Are you trying to burn me alive?" Chris inquired.
"Take my hand." Dawn repeated, no more forcefully than the first time. Chris gulped and continued to reach his shaking hand out. Finally, he took Dawn's hand with a wince, only to find out that there was now pain. "Do not question. Just follow." Dawn told him.
Dawn's hand was about three times smaller than Chris's due to her size, but this was not an issue for her. Suddenly, Dawn fluttered over to the window, bringing Chris with her. "What now?" He asked.
Dawn let go of Chris's hand, and to the host's shock, he was still floating. "You are now a ghost." Dawn told him. "But only temporarily. Only so I can show you your past."
"I don't need you to show me my past! I'm perfectly fine with forgetting those times! I'm on to hosting now. And smoothies." He said.
The fiery moonchild ignored him and cast a hand at the window. In a small burst of shimmering light, the window turned into a sort of cloud with a screen. Golden-lighted trims gave the cloud a joyful look.
"Let's go back to the first Christmas you remember." Dawn said. The cloud contorted with light for a short while until an image was shown. It was Chris as a child, playing with a small choo-choo train by the Christmas tree.
"I remember that choo-choo!" Chris gasped. "It was my favorite toy in the whole world! How did you know?" He asked, slightly fearful.
"It still is your favorite toy." Dawn said, ignoring Chris's question. She cast her hand over to Chris's night stand, opening one of the drawers with her force, pulling out a small wooden choo-choo train, exactly like the one in the dream cloud. She brought it over to Chris and rested it in his hands.
"How did you know I've kept this ever since?" Chris asked. "What kind of witchcraft is this?!" He cried, hugging his choo-choo.
"You loved this train with all your heart. What happened?" Dawn asked him, ignoring his question once more.
Chris stared down at his train. "I...don't know." He said quietly.
"Let's jump ahead to Christmas at age ten!" Dawn said, skipping ahead about five years in the dream cloud.
The cloud showed what looked like an empty orphanage. The floors were old and wooden, the walls slowly falling apart. There were rows of bunk-beds, all of them empty, except for one. Ten-year-old Chris sat on one of the lower bunks, all alone, his choo-choo next to him. The moon cast a light into the orphanage and the view changed to show little Chris staring out the window, sadly.
"When you were six, just a year after the Christmas with your choo-choo, your parents left you. They didn't want you anymore. Off to the orphanage you went." Dawn explained.
"I know my own past! You don't have to show me how awful my childhood was!" Chris snapped. "I don't ever want to remember my parents, or that cruddy orphanage!"
Dawn continued to look at the dream cloud as the scene unfolded. Ten-year-old Chris ran up to the window and looked out at a bright star, the North star. He closed his eyes and got into a praying position. "All I want...is a family." He sniffled. He opened his eyes again and looked up at the shining star.
The door cracked open a little bit and Chris turned to see the orphanage care-taker coming in. "Oh Chris, you'll find the right family one day! They just haven't come yet!" She said. "Now, it's time to go to bed."
Chris sighed and skipped over to his bed, climbing in and pulling the sheets over himself, his choo-choo in one hand. "Good night Meredith." He said quietly.
"Good night Chris. And Merry Christmas." She returned, kissing his forehead and then leaving the room with a sad sigh.
Dawn ended the scene so that the dream cloud was now just a cloud, not projecting anything. "Meredith was wrong! I was never adopted! I stayed in that orphanage till I was sixteen!" He shouted at the flickering moonchild. "I never had any friends, no matter how many kids went through that orphanage!"
"Did you ever try to make friends?" Dawn asked him.
"Well...no. No one ever came over to me. I always played with my choo-choo, by myself while all the other kids played together and got adopted later on." Chris said sadly.
"Is that what made you the bitter man you are today?" Dawn questioned again.
"I'm not bitter!" Chris replied. "I'm perfectly fine! I demand you leave me alone now! I've seen enough of my past, and it's bad!"
"Very well." Dawn nodded, drifting her hand over to the bed. Chris then floated over and was placed back into the covers. "Two more ghosts will visit you this night." She warned.
With that, she seemed to sink into the darkness, her candle-lit body extinguishing. The dream cloud faded away and turned back into a window. There were twelve dongs and the everything was normal again.
Chris looked at his choo-choo that he still held in his hand. "I'm scared, choo-choo. Are you scared?" He asked the wooden toy with a whimper.
~A/N~ And thus ends the first part of A Chris-Mas Carol! I hope you guys enjoyed it, and while there weren't that many laughs, I think it was at leas enjoyable. This story will have some comedy, but also touching moments since it is a play off of A Christmas Carol.
I hope to get the next chapter out by December 15th, but updates on time aren't always possible with my schedule of stories, homework, and life in general, so don't panic if it's not up then, it'll be up around that time.
That's about all I have for you guys, so be sure to leave a review and his that Fav/Follow button if you didn't already! It is much appreciated, so thank you and Merry Very Early Christmas! ;)