Mr. Pitch Black was not at all happy that he was forced into this servitude. He hated working with kids. They were loud, obnoxious, dirty, grimy, smelly, and oh-so adorable. Wait, what!? Never mind, he was just a conflicted man with hopes and dreams that all humans had.

"Blast this institutional dump," he roared at the cloudy sky that threatened to overflow with snow. Today was just another day in the sleepy town of Burgess, a safe have for the shady man. Also, today was Christmas Eve, a joyous union with religion and a bribe for shopkeepers to gain even more money than necessary during the celebrations.

"Curse it all," he muttered as he hopped into his black convertible (don't worry, his hood was up) and prepared to go to his place of work.

As you can see, he was a hard working gentleman, born in England (where is unknown) and he loved the town—

"If it start snowing, so help me," he grumbled as he avidly dodged an old lady from the impending doom of death.

…Right, he didn't exactly fit into the town of Burgess, Pennsylvania. Not that it mattered to him whether or not he loved residing in the town of stupid Americans. Besides, where he was going, he was about to babysit the town's most interracial group. Ever. Yeah, as if he was going to be all pumped happy for this job.

As he pulled up the building with the spires of gooey mushy posters of rosy cheeks of children acting all happy and naïve he sighed and wished that he could have been a police officer. At least he would have had a cool uniform and people would obey him. Or, at least feared him. Just how unfair could life be? If he remembered correctly, he did not go through college to end up like this.

He opened up the fairytale like doors of the building and grimaced with practiced ease.

Since when did he apply to become a nursery mother?

In a freaking daycare!

"Hey mister! Hey mister," a young girl called out. She wore a green dress with—Pitch paled—fairy wings sprouted on it. Atop her golden blonde curls was a tiara with feathers hastily glued on it.

"What do you want, Ariadne," he asked with great contempt. The glare that he had specifically designed for her was molding into his everyday face. He knew it was hopeless, but with a man who had a grudge against the world, he had to try and teach the little princess who was the real Ritz around here. "If I remembered correctly, you need to stop with you silly notions that the tooth fairy is real and to get on with your life, understood?"
The little blonde only stared back at him.

Then she smiled.

Before the dark, brooding man could react to the unprecedented reaction to his glower, the greenery that enshrouded the girl collapsed on him.

"Mr. Sanderson, Mr. Sanderson," she cried out loud. "Mr. Black has white teeth even though he drinks coffee!" Turning to Mr. Black she inquired—without any fear, he noted—"How do you do it? Do you put toothpaste in your coffee? Does it work? Or do you have a hidden toothbrush in that coat of yours? You must have—"

Sighing heavily, Pitch could only gesture to his coworker that he needed assistance. Didn't the little brat realize that he was talking to her about the evils in the world and that she needed to face them head on?

Sanderson, Pitch's reliable mute grabbed the girl around her midsection, causing her to shriek out in delight. Which of course, made Pitch want to scream out in pain—that little cry of hers was obnoxious already. Did she NEED to scream right near his bleeding eardrums?

"Gosh, I'm dying here and yet you pay more attention to the kids, Sanderson," Pitch gritted out as he painfully pulled himself off the floor.

The pajama-clad man could only shrug in reply as he bounced the girl up and down in glee. Sanderson, one of the oldest members of the daycare, winked up at him as he silently reprimanded the six year old NOT to jump people because they had pretty perfect teeth.

"But Mr. Sanderson," Ariadne whined as she clutched a little stuffed hummingbird in one of her petite arms. "Coffee," and this where her voice got all wispy," rots teeth, but Mr. Pitch has conquered the evils of coffee!"

The Englishman slapped his pale face in frustration. And just when he thought that the little 'fairy' would accept the fact that her little antics would not be beneficial to her in the future. Curse Sanderson and his lenient ways, he maliciously thought.

"I have to know how he does it. I got to, I got to!" She writhed in the grip of Sanderson as he patiently reasoned with her.

"Pitch, it great to see you," a jolly seven year old greeted him. Attired in a red jogging suit and a Russian styled cap, Nikolai was like any other kid. Except for the Russian accent that mottled his speech.

"Hello, Nicholas," Pitch mumbled as he dusted his trusty ebony coat from the horrors of dust particles and…other things. "Since you're here, I'm guessing—"

"Ho there ya ankle-biters!" An Australian tainted accent assaulted the sensitive Britisher's ears as the six year old came barreling in. Barreling in by cruising in at supersonic speed on a skateboard, armed with plastic boomerangs, and—Was that fanny pack with eggs? The Aussie looked like he was going off to war.

"Aren't ankle-biters referred as children, Joey," Pitch couldn't help but question the lad.

"Course, ya Sheila!" The shaggy haired brunette boy yelped as he flung an egg at Pitch. Fortunately, Pitch caught the egg, much to the awe and chagrin of Nicholas and Joey as listed. However, Pitch accidentally squeezed the egg, causing the crust to become cracked and spider-webby.

"Nik, he broke it! How dare you kill Barnaby, he was one of my best—"

"Kid, things like this happen in real life," Pitch uttered and grunted as he dodged the plastic eggs thrown at him. Affectionately dubbed the egg bombs, they may seem harmless, but Joey had powerful aim, and treats (such as hard candy) were enclosed inside. Making it one of the lethal weapons that escaped the radar of the daycare.

"Mate, I'll destroy you, like ya did to Bar—"

"Calm down, Joey," Nikolai patted his best friend's arm affectionately. "It was all big misunderstanding, da?" Even though Nikolai was still a minor, he threw one nasty stare at Pitch, causing what seemed to be a cold war between the two of them. After a few moments of staring and silence (Ariadne and Sanderson were still discussing the merits of dental care and personal space) Pitch finally relented and nodded to Nikolai.

"Indeed, it was all one big mistake," he replied sarcastically. Much to his relief, the two boys ignored him after his grudging apology in favor of teasing Ariadne.

"Teeth ARE better than eggs and presents!"

Pitch sighed as he saw his colleague swoop close to him a smile on his face.

"Might you remind me how I came to get this godforsaken job," he muttered helplessly as he dodged a boomerang sent his way. Not only was Joey skilled in the art of egg throwing, he can also sense a curse that was aimed at the children and the faculty.

Sanderson shrugged his frail shoulders in a knowing look. They both knew that Pitch was low on cash, and had his own experience with children, most notably his deceased daughter. Pitch frowned in thought as he examined the tots as they were playing. One, two, three—Where was the fourth one? Jack—

"Frost is in the house," the five year-old gave a holler as he held a perfectly spherical snowball in his pale hands. Already, his naturally pale hands were turning blue and was that frost on his clothes. Pitch knew that he loved spending time in the snowy banks of Burgess, but for how long. His parents must have been idiots, he mused as he saw the boy throw the ball of snow at his rival's face. He knew full well what the consequences were.

The Australian and the Finnish boy were duking it out as they exchanged blows, with Nikolai and Ariadne shoving their two cents in. A tanned hand pulled on Pitch's black sleeve, anxiously pointing at the quadruplets and making a face. Obviously, he wanted Pitch to stop the fight so they could go on with the holiday plans they had in store for that day. It was also quite clear that while Pitch detested the children in his own way, he didn't want to see them get hurt…too bad.

"Do I have to?"

A frown was all the response he needed.

Swooping in like a bat, the Briton held the two aggressors by the scruff of their necks and made sure that they would listen while he scolded them.

"Jackson," he began tiredly (it was only thirty minutes into his shift, give him a break) "Do you have to torment Joseph like that?"

"My name's Jack!"

"The name's Joey!"

Interestingly, the heated duo screamed out their phrases at the same time, causing the both of them to glare at each other. Without further ado, they tried to reach out to one another and claw their eyes out.

"So epic," Nikolai breathed out in awe. Usually, no one would go against Pitch, since he was such a scary guy, but during the chill of the holidays… Well, everyone needed to let the hair loose, right?

"Oh my gosh, is spit coming out of their mouths even healthy? Yo, Joey, stop eating your chocolate bunnies and then I'll give you some compliments," the winged child turned to the cheeky brunette and swooned. Literally, Pitch would vomit in his mouth at the cheesiness Ariadne displayed, but he did not want to clean up the mess after his workload ended. "Jack, keep up the awesome dental work! Would you like to be one my dentist assistants when we grow up! We'll be a great—"

Due to the noise coming out of everybody's vocal cords, only one person saw that one important figure in the history of the institution came strolling in. Gasping (well, albeit silently) Sanderson tried to get everybody to pay attention.

"Come on Jackie—"

"That's not my name Nicky!"
"Take that back! I have proud name, Nikolai!"

"Bloody mate, ya hafta take his side in all this?"

"Curse all of this," Pitch muttered as he tried to wring some sense into the boys that he held captive. Sooner or later he'll do the same thing with Nikolai, just—His gaze connected with the Russian's and inwardly recoiled. Cripes, for being someone so young, he had a stare that could rival Pitch's. And that took years to master!

On the other side of the room, Sanderson was waiting for someone to notice their boss waiting right next to him. Although the man next to him had a blank (not to mention) pasty face that commanded attention from the rest of the occupants in the room. However, seeing that he remained silent and passive to the events that were transpiring due to a lot of misinterpretations. Misinterpretations that caused Nikolai to hang off of one of Pitch's wiry arms and shoot wooden soldiers at Jack Frost. Ariadne was currently tugging at Pitch's coat, eager for him to drop Jack so she can fawn all over his mouth. Plus, Joey was having the time of his life, using kiddy insults that would get him disciplined if Pitch wasn't so caught up with his peer's affairs. In other words to describe this fiasco, Sanderson would need a GINORMOUS distraction to alert them to the owner of the institution.

So he smiled.

A great big smile that could cause alarm in any parent that could have stopped by and witnessed the spectacle.

With his great big pearly whites and dimples that could cause a heart attack to a woman, Ariadne (being the only female there in the first place) screeched like Justin Bieber happened to stop bye.

"Oh my gosh, oh my gosh," she yelled in fascination as her amethyst eyes came across Sanderson's enormous smile of epic proportions. Swiftly, her hands tugged on Pitch's clothing, chattering mightily of the state of Sanderson's dental hygiene. When Pitch finally looked to what the young girl had seen, he hastily put down all of the young lads and straightened his attire, looking even more intimidated by the fact that his employer was there. Mein gott, was he going to get cut off? Or was his paycheck going down the drain? He sure hoped not as he tried in vain to get his young charges to look presentable.

"Oh, lookie," Nikolai cried out in delight. Straying from Pitch's side, he galloped across the room and hugged the expressionless man around the middle. "It's Moony, comrades!"

With great chatter, the rest of the young children sprinted to the owner of the establishment, leaving Pitch behind to sneak—

A tanned hand clapped hard on Pitch's shoulder, surprising him from escaping. From the look in Sanderson's chocolate brown eyes, they seemed to say 'can't have you running away, can I?'

"Sanderson, I swear, I will give you half of my earnings and then—"

Pitch's plan was further thwarted by the fact that the chocolate brown message became a threat to all of mankind. Seriously, the little Charlie Chaplin turned Buddha was now giving him a stare that could melt all the polar ice caps. However, as Pitch has seen in the past, when an animal gats cornered, they fight back the hardest…humans were no different.

"Come on, Sandy," Pitch urged as he thought that using Sanderson's nickname will help him gain some favor from the volatile wrath of the so-called 'Moony.'

'Moony,' the tanned man's eyes seemed to say, 'is a nice guy.'

Since he worked with Sanderson for a relatively long time, Pitch understood what he relayed through his eyes and the gestures that came with it. Nonetheless, even though Pitch had learned to trust the mute, he did not want to obey Sanderson's unspoken commands.

"Just let me go, I don't want to deal with the old ma—"

Another hand, this time not golden tanned like Sandy's, was placed on one of Pitch's shoulders. The hand was attached to an old man's body, Manfred Moon. Pitch inwardly shuddered as his eyes met the old man's a curious shade of milky blue and flecks of white. All knowing eyes, Pitch had named after his first encounter with Manny, as he sometimes referred to him as.

Pitch used to be in a gang in England. Not really a reputable thing to do, given that he came from a prosperous family and that he was one of the star's students in his college community. Pitch still had no idea how he got himself turned into the dark side, it just happened. Sometimes, he craved for the feeling of doing something that few would do, the feeling of power and wielding it over others. He felt his victims' feel fear, and he used this power of his well.

It wasn't until later that he found that he fathered a daughter and things went downhill from there. Rival gangs found out from an inside traitor, taking his precious flesh and blood away from him…

Manfred Moon was a constable back in the day, only to move to America and come back for personal reasons. It was either a coincidence or a miracle that Manny had arrived when he did. Or else Pitch might have never seen his daughter again. However, despite Manny's adept ways of cracking the case… It turns out that not all miracles turn out the way a person wants them to. It was there, after a few months after the tragedy that Manny decided to hire Pitch, so that he might gain his life back.

"Hey, Manny," Pitch muttered as he tried not to look at his boss in the eyes. "Fancy seeing you here."

The old man nodded, choosing not to speak, instead, his aged blue eyes crinkled with mirth. His wrinkly old hands squeezed Pitch's shoulder in a fatherly way and he pointed outside.

It wasn't the first time that Pitch cursed his coworkers for their ill ability not to speak. Sighing, Pitch followed Manny's hands and saw nothing but snow.

"Can you speak, please? I had a rough week and the brats over there," a slender, bony hand pointed to the four kids quarrelling over the merits of Christmas and Easter," and frankly… you'rekindofrightening me." The last part was muttered. It wasn't that he hated the old man, maybe Sanderson, but not Manny. It was just that even though it was a few years that his daughter died, he had a lot to be thankful for, especially in Manny's case. Apparently, Pitch was very prideful when it came to his personal affairs.

Soft chuckling came from the old man, so soft, you had to be at least a few inches away to hear it.

"Aw, Pitch, it appears that you have grown fond of our residents, isn't that right, Sandy?"

The two shared a sly look that made Pitch even more so wary of them.

"Sir, did you want something from me? It's just that—"

"Tomorrow's Christmas, boy's!" Manny boomed (well, he was still whispering, but he whispered with POWER) "and it's going to be a day off!"

"Christmas!" Nikolai called out with joy. All three grown men turned to the young boy who held a red backpack. "I made presents and hope you like!"

"Phooey, Easter's better," Joey muttered as he held an egg shaped object that was covered in wrapping paper.

"Do I have presents? Yes, I have presents! Oh, my gosh, Mr. Sanderson, Mr. Black, and Mr. Moon, do you like stuffed hummingbirds? Or would you like stuffed teeth? Or—"

Sanderson patted the girl's head in reassurance, gesturing for her to give him a hummingbird in exchange for a unicorn figurine.

As Ariadne screamed in relish at her new stuffed toy addition, Manny was handling gifts from Joey and Nikolai. IN other words, Nikolai received a tool kit to make his own projects and Joey was given an art set. The Russian boy had given all three teachers wooden swords, and the Aussie gave everyone eggs.

However, there was one person who appeared to not have any gifts available.

"Kid," Pitch muttered as he stooped close to Jack's level," are you willing to share anything?"

Jack said nothing. He didn't need to, there was a fresh track of tears coming down his face. There was something off about Jack's sadness. It was like he was still planning something; there was mischief in his eyes. Softening his harsh complexion as best he could, Pitch used a black handkerchief he had handy and wiped the salty excrement of the young one's face.

"You didn't have to," Pitch said softly. He gave a pair of ice skates to Jack and briefly smiled. "I know that you like going outside and everything, so I bought you these, I hope that you like them."

"Thank you Mr. Black," Jack yelled out loud before yelling to everybody. "Lets have a snowball fight outside!" Everyone grinned and rushed to the closet where everybody's coat was stored.

As Pitch put on his coat to merely supervise, he grinned and happily mused in thought. Perhaps this wasn't a bad day after all, he thought delightedly. Maybe I need to learn hos to loosen up and—

His happy thought stopped cold as he realized something big.

His coat's pockets were filled with—

"Since it was a white Christmas outside, why not bring it inside!" Jack declared.

Everyone grabbed the snow that was in his or her pockets and aimed at Jack.

I'm dreaming of a white ChristmasJust like the ones I used to know Where the treetops glisten, and children listen To hear sleigh bells in the snow


Remember kids; on Christmas you should always give instead of receiving. In this case, could you all do a young writer a favor and review? It's Christmas…