Now That's Scary
By a highly miffed Sandaa Shojo
Disclaimer: Tim Burton's The Nightmare Before Christmas belongs to Tim Burton, not me, because the title isn't Sandaa Shojo's The Nightmare Before Christmas. Also, no offense to anyone else who writes for this fandom.
Jack Skellington had decided to hold another Town Hall meeting. This time, however, the room was not crowded with wolfmen, commercialized witches, zombies, costumed trick-or-treaters, miscellaneous monsters, and demented clowns. In their place was a motley assortment of humans, most of which were between ages ten and seventeen, and many of them were female. None of them were in Halloween costumes, and they were all chattering amongst themselves.
For example, a green-eyed redhead was saying to her friend: "Okay. This new character of mine has huge violet eyes, she can breathe fire, she has scales like a snake's all over her body, she can fly without wings, and she's a princess of some distant kingdom no one's ever heard of before."
"I like it!" responded the redhead's friend.
In another section of the Town Hall, five eleven-year-old boys were aggressively comparing their original characters. They were doing this in a fashion that was suspiciously similar to the way younger boys compare their action figures.
"This guy has nails like daggers that can rip out your throat," said one.
"Oh, yeah? Well, this character has a head as hard as stainless steel that he can dash out your brain on."
"That's not so great. This guy's ears are so sharp that he can impale you on them."
"Your characters suck. I have one who has fangs like a vampire's that he uses to suck out your soul!"
"My character is a fluffy yellow rabbit. …What?"
All of the talking got on Jack's nerves, so he resorted to his usual way of getting people to pay attention.
"BOOOOOO! Your accounts just got removed! BLEAH! BLEAH!" he thundered in the fourth scariest voice he could muster.
The audience members shrieked and gasped, then focused their eyes upon Jack, who stood on the stage.
"Now that I have your attention, I would like to make a few things…er…known to you. They're all very relevant to everyone present, or I wouldn't have called you here. You are all fanfictionists for The Nightmare Before Christmas, right?"
The audience collectively nodded.
"All right. It has come to my attention that many people have been writing about things that shouldn't, technically, happen. For one thing, the movie doesn't say whether Sally and I got married or not. You may believe that happened, but do you get married to a person almost immediately after kissing that person, however passionately?"
Guilty looks swept across the faces of the audience.
"I didn't think so. While we're on the subject, it also appears that many of you have forgotten my species, as well as Sally's. I am a skeleton—or, more precisely, a skeleton puppet. Sally is a lab-created rag doll. Neither of us have reproductive organs, so we can't have children of our own. Stop writing about it."
Even guiltier looks swept across the faces of the audience. A few people shuffled uncomfortably in their seats. Several more stared at the ground, not daring to look upon Jack, who was enjoying his monologue.
"While it's obvious that I should like children—it only makes sense—I still can't have my own. Speaking of children, what makes you think that I'd even consider letting Lock, Shock, and Barrel live in my house? Sure, I'd let them come in for a visit, but forever? Or even longer than a week? Absolutely no way. I don't trust them.
"Oh, yes, and here's a message to those of you who have me putting a Burton-esque spin on other holidays: it will never happen. I already just about ruined Christmas that one year, and I'm not about to do anything like it again. Don't you think I'd have learned my lesson by now? Writing The Nightmare Before Labor Day or whatever is like insulting my intelligence.
"Back to the topic of children. No fictional character—I said 'fictional character' because many of you are exceptions to this rule--is supposed to be more frightening than me, so what's the deal with making my impossible offspring as scary as I am? That just screams—no pun intended—Mary Sue, or whatever her male counterpart is called."
"Gary Stu," offered a blonde, brown-eyed female author.
"Marty Stu," piped up a female, blue-eyed brunette at the same time.
"And we don't always make your kids as scary as you!" pointed out a brown-haired, green-eyed twelve-year-old boy.
"That's right—you don't always make my kids as scary as me," said Jack. "But you're missing the point. When people make my children—which shouldn't really exist, as you know—as scary as me, you're violating canon." Jack momentarily wracked his brain for a way to embellish his statement. A smile spread across his face, then voluntarily vanished (which is to say that Jack hid his smile.) He had the perfect way to convince his audience to stop breaking the rules of canon, because only people who insisted on breaking canon rules would believe what Jack was about to say.
"As you know, I am the Pumpkin King of Halloween Town, which means that I rule it. I have no heir to my throne. If you keep writing Mary Sues and Gary Stus, I'm going to die…again. That would mean the end of Halloween as a holiday. And you don't want that."
"How do we know that you're not lying?" asked a fourteen-year-old girl.
"It takes one to know one."
The girl thought about this, which silenced her.
"Thank you for listening to what I had to say—that is, if you were listening at all. Some of you might haven't heard a word I've said. That's very inconsiderate of you, but then again, these are fanfictionists I'm talking to." He smiled at this, which provoked a highly dissimilar reaction from the members of the audience.
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Before anyone tells me that the narrator in Track #19 of the Nightmare soundtrack says that Jack had "four to five skeleton children at hand," let me say that they were not necessarily Jack's children. Besides, what are the odds? It makes no sense whatsoever.