Hello!
Again, it is Christmas time, which means that it is time for Athena's Cabin's annual Christmas story! This year's Christmas entry was inspired by Suzanne Collins' Hunger Games and the song "Scary F**ked up Christmas" by Garfunkel and Oates. An exception to the song, however, is that Haymitch does not get high, but rather exceptionally drunk. Here you go!
Christmas is much better when you're drunk.
Haymitch Abernathy hated Christmas. Everyone was so darn happy. It was Christmas Eve, and Haymitch was sitting in his living room, staring at the dead fireplace, his thoughts lingering on the past year. The revolution had been a success; the Capitol had been overthrown and a new government had been formed. Paylor had proven to be an effective and just leader. Peace, at last, had fallen over District 12, and everyone was content, even the infamous star-crossed lovers. Haymitch hated every single moment of their happiness, as it reminded him of the time he was content, the time before his entry to the Hunger Games.
A shiver ran down Haymitch's spine as he reminisced about his last Christmas before the second Quarter Quell. Life had been much simpler back then. His family had been hungry all the time, yes, but at least they dreamt more or less peacefully. After the Quell, at least Haymitch had not slept a blink during the hours of darkness. Nocturnal behaviour had stuck with him ever since, and so had his friendship with the bottle of white liquor. A half-empty bottle was waiting for him on the sofa table. Haymitch grabbed it and took a swig, shuddering at the burning sensation the drink sent down his throat.
"I'll be spending Christmas with you, old friend," he told the bottle and sipped a little more.
There was a knock at the door. Annoyed by the disturbance, Haymitch set the bottle securely on the floor and ploddered to open the door.
"Happy Christmas, Haymitch!" came a cheerful greeting from Peeta, who was smiling behind the door, his cheeks pink from the cold.
"Hello," Haymitch said back, irritated by Peeta's happiness. "What do you want?"
"Quit grumpying up the place, Haymitch," Katniss chimed in, walking through Haymitch's garden gate as she spoke. "We just need a carrot for our snowman."
"Don't you have any at the bakery?" Haymitch asked, ignoring Katniss' command to be happier.
Peeta shook his head. "No, we've run out. There's none at Katniss' place either."
"If I let you search the kitchen, will you stop bothering me?" asked Haymitch, his thoughts on the unfinished bottle of booze.
"Naturally," Katniss said, and Haymitch let the two in.
"Also, would you care to join us for Christmas supper tonight?" Peeta asked as he and Katniss put their coats down it Haymitch's entrance hall.
"I sort of had plans-"
"Sure, sitting alone with a bottle of liquor. No way, you're eating with us," Katniss interrupted Haymitch and he had to succumb to his fate.
As Peeta and Katniss rummaged his kitchen, Haymitch returned to his sofa and grabbed the bottle again.
"I need a lot of drink to survive tonight," he grumbled to himself.
After emptying the bottle, Haymitch lay down and closed his eyes, his head whirling pleasantly from the alcohol. There, he fell asleep.
Christmas, so much fun...
At 5 o'clock, Haymitch made his way to Katniss' house in Victors' Village. His pace slow from all the alcohol, it took him a good fifteen minutes to arrive. Katniss and Peeta were, of course, already waiting for him, aware of him being late. It was not his style to be punctual.
"Haymitch, such a pleasure to have you here," Peeta grinned as he opened the door for the drunken man.
"Let's just get straight to the point, shall we?" Haymitch grumbled and walked past Peeta into the kitchen.
Katniss was taking a casserole off the embers in the oven when he stumbled in.
"Hi, Haymitch," she greeted him. Peeta, who was walking behind Haymitch, chuckled and shook his head.
"He's completely out of it, Katniss," he said as Haymitch fumbled with one of the chairs around the dining table.
"Not yet, Haymitch," Katniss smiled. "First we'll open some presents."
Presents, such a stupidly happy tradition in this economy, Haymitch thought to himself, but obediently followed Peeta and Katniss into the living room, where a Christmas tree shimmered in the light of the fireplace and candles.
The three sat on the floor next to a small but intriguing pile of presents. Katniss grabbed one, handing it over to Haymitch.
"Here you go, Haymitch. You go first," she said, smiling warmly at the man.
Haymitch took what she offered him, staring at the brown wrapping paper stupidly through liquor goggles. Then he glanced back at Katniss, who was still smiling kindly at him. The girl sure had an attractive smile. Had she worn it more often, she would have been better at all her interviews as a Tribute. Although her dresses seemed to do the trick too... Haymitch blinked. Why was he thinking about Katniss' attractiveness? He must have had way too much to drink.
Peeta took Katniss' hand in his and she turned her gaze away from Haymitch, onto Peeta. That snapped Haymitch back to what seemed to be the usual drunken reality he knew. He then commenced to unwrap his present – a wonderfully crafted silver pocket flask, the kind true gentlemen drunk their liquor from. It was full. It seemed like the Star-Crossed Lovers from District 12 had given up on their mission to make him quit drinking. Haymitch smirked. Finally he could drink in peace.
"Thank you," he grumbled. He was happier and happier every second about having had so much to drink before going to this gathering. It was much easier to be civilized with a little-too-much booze.
"Thought you might like it," Peeta grinned. He then handed Katniss a present, which turned out to be a beautiful pen-and-ink drawing of her father, obviously drawn by Peeta himself.
"I used one of your old photographs, I know how much he means to you," he told Katniss, who was staring at the picture with tears in her eyes.
Oh look, it isn't an intimate friendly gathering without someone bursting into tears, Haymitch thought and rolled his eyes when Peeta wrapped his arms around the girl. He took a swig from his new flask. More booze, yes, he needed more to survive the night.
"Thank you, Peeta. It's beautiful," Katniss said after a moment of silence. She wiped her tears on the back of her hand, blinking furiously. Peeta kept his arm wrapped around her shoulders. Clearly these two had bonded more than ever.
The room swayed a little in Haymitch's eyes and for a moment he thought he saw a grinning face on the grandfather clock in the corner. Closing his eyes and shaking his head, he returned his drunken reality back to normal.
After Peeta unwrapped his present – a new set of goat hair artist's brushes – Katniss announced it was time for dinner. The three stood up and marched to the dining room, where Peeta and Katniss had already set the table for all three of them. Haymitch sat down with Peeta, as Katniss flitted to the kitchen only to return with a steaming pot of lamb stew – the same one she had fallen in love with in the Capitol, the one with the dried plums. She set the pot down on the table and sat down across the table from Haymitch.
They ate the stew, and a lot of other food after that, chatting about this, that and the other. Haymitch did not take part in the talking, except when asked a question by the other two. He was far too preoccupied with his drunken hallucinations. The meat loaf was wearing shoes, and he could almost swear the ham tried to say something to him. He definitely had had too much to drink, yet, he could not stop sipping from his new flask. It was way too fancy.
"Everything alright, Haymitch?" Peeta asked, concerned.
Haymitch rubbed his eyes and blinked. "I'm good, I'm good," he said, still eyeing the ham suspiciously.
After dessert was served, the three returned to the living room, where they shared some more gifts. Haymitch drowned down half of the contents of his new flask as Katniss and Peeta shared a Christmas kiss under a mistletoe. He was happy for his gift; he had not been prepared enough for all the sentimental goo-goo the evening had in store. For an old, scarred man, Christmases were too much even without emotional lovers keeping him company. It was much better to be obscenely drunk.
There was a knock at the door.
"Haymitch, can you go get it, please? I need to set up the kettle for tea," Katniss asked apologetically.
Stumbling, Haymitch got up on his feet. "Yeah, I'll go," he grunted, and staggered to the door.
The newcomer was the snowman Katniss and Peeta had made on Katniss' front yard. His coal eyes were cleaming, his top hat was crooked and he was holding a baseball bat. Haymitch stammered a few steps backwards.
"Wh-why are you h-h-here?" he gasped as the snowman smirked devilishly.
Was this a hallucination? Was he really this drunk? Or was this really happening and this snowman was going to murder him and melt onto Katniss' floor? Haymitch tried to make a drunken run for it, but he took a glance outside; it looked like the apocalypse. The houses of Victors' Village were on fire, there was mass-destruction everywhere, similarly to what he'd witnessed in the rebellion.
"No, what's happening to me?" Haymitch shouted, not knowing whether to run out into the demolition of District 12 or stay put and have the snowman kill him with a sharp blow on the head with the baseball bat. The snowman cackled an evil laugh, playing with the bat.
Horrorstruck, Haymitch stood still, shaking with fear.
I'm never drinking again, he thought to himself and closed his eyes. He felt a sharp blow on the back of his head and he fell face-first into darkness.
You're freezing now and everything is blurred.
You've turned into a pretty little bird.
Why was life after death so unnecessarily cold? Haymitch was freezing, still keeping his eyes closed from being killed by the snowman. His head felt fuzzy and light, yet it was hurting badly. His body was prickling with cold. Well, at least this was not Hell.
Slowly and painfully, Haymitch opened his eyes. He was surprised to see himself completely naked surrounded by heaps of fresh snow. He was on his front yard.
"What the..." he mouthed to himself as he stood up shakily. He took a look at his watch; it was still Christmas eve and it was 4:43 o'clock.
How is this possible? Haymitch wondered. He'd just survived a horrible apocalyptic evening with Katniss and Peeta.
"So, you're awake," Peeta's voice sounded from the gate. He threw Haymitch a long jacket. "Please, put something on."
Haymitch put the coat on, still wondering about the quaint situation he had found himself in.
"Wondering what happened?" Peeta asked, a grin playing on his lips.
"Could you perhaps tell me about it over some coffee?" Haymitch grunted, as he realized his head was still pounding from the snowman's attack.
The two made their way inside and Peeta poured Haymitch some coffee. They sat around the kitchen table.
"So what exactly happened to me? What happened to the snowman?" Haymitch asked.
Peeta arched an eyebrow. "Snowman? It's still standing where we built it. You, however, had a little drunken adventure," he said.
"Tell me everything," Haymitch egged and leaned forward in his chair.
"Well, after we found our carrot, you had passed out on the couch. Katniss was about to pull a blanket on you when you suddenly jumped up and started to walk around. You sat on the floor for a while, muttering something to yourself. Then you stood up again and ate that day-old sandwitch that had been lying on your kitchen table," Peeta explained. Haymitch listened to the story, nodding every once in a while.
"You then commenced to the front door, opened it, yelped, and rushed outside, throwing all your clothes around and fell in the snow. That was where you woke up. You didn't move from that spot," the story ended and Haymitch shook his head slowly.
"You have no idea of the things I saw while drunk today," he said carefully.
Peeta chuckled. "I can imagine."
"Just make sure I won't drink too much tonight, otherwise the day could get absurd," Haymitch said and smiled.
When Haymitch had finished his coffee, he changed into a fancier suit and he and Peeta started towards Katniss' house for Christmas dinner. It was time to go and face the night, this time without that much liquor. It would be a scary experience, no matter if Haymitch was sober or drunk.
That was it, ladies and gentlemen. A little different this year, I know, usually these Christmas bits have a little more emotion going on in them, but I really felt like doing a little humourous piece now. I've adored Garfunkel and Oates' music for ages now, and you should totally check them out on YouTube as well ;)
Happy Christmas!
AC