Well, here you are, folks! The first chapter of my holdiay fanfic! Enjoy and please, I do love feedback! I can fix it! ;D
Queue: violins… flutes, chimes… The gentle holiday sounds fill the space with elegant rolling of the piano's keys, and the melody begins.
The fire crackles contently, its golden glow flooding the room with smoky warmth. The golden light glints in the glittering tinsel dripping from the fresh pine branches like strands of stardust. The oaken mantelpiece is draped with garlands of bright poinsettias, with small, gilded metal trees nestled among the vivid red flowers. .
The tree is cloaked in hot dripping candles, glistening like waxy dewdrops on the soft green needles. Silver, gilded, glass, and cloth baubles decorate each branch, in every color and shape, and small red ribbons are knotted here and there. A red velvet skirt below is embroidered with golden thread, and around it are gathered small packages and parcels tied up in golden foil and blue paper, with silver and purple ribbons and painted nametags. A tall-backed scarlet armchair sits between the lovely Christmas tree and a snowy window, and a small figure rests on the arm with a glass of eggnog and daydreams at the wonderland behind the glass.
Outside the frosty window, snowflakes dance down from the starry velvet sky, the haze of Christmas lights casting colors across the sparkling white blanket. On the welcoming red door in a wreath of holly; a snowman bundled in scarf and hat, pipe stuck in his wide rocky grin, beckoning visitors to rap on the gilded knocker, hinting at the warmth to be found inside. Somewhere, over the glowing silver hills in the light of the Christmas Eve moon, a trio of weary carolers glides through the snow, their angelic voices rising over the snow capped landscape and mingling with the soft sound of distant jingle bells and dreaming birds in the trees.
The figure in the armchair turns and faces the tree, lost in holiday thoughts, his red nose gleaming in the warm glow of the fire and bright black eyes sparkling in the dazzling holiday lights. His gloved hands are folded lightly in his lap, over a copy of A Christmas Carol. He takes a slow sip of his eggnog, careful not to get the creamy froth in his fur. The carolers over the hill are singing now, about the snow. He smiles serenely.
"Good evening, families across America and Alaska. Welcome to The Warner Brothers' Studio Christmas Spectacular. My name is Yakko Warner, and I will be your host tonight.
"Tonight, we have a very special show planned, perfect to brighten your holiday season. We will have an incredibly heartwarming performance of Charles Dickens' A Christmas Carol, featuring the acting talents of John Malkovich as Ebenezer Scrooge, Christopher Walken as Bob Cratchit, and Richard Simmons as Tiny Tim. Yikes. Later, we will have a stirring performance of 'Let it Go', and since our crummy producers could not afford to get Miss Dazeem due to her contract with Disney, we have hired their former and disgusting child star, Miley Cyrus, who will sing 'Let it Go' while riding a giant swinging ornament. But now, dear ladies and gentlemen," Yakko said, taking another sip and placing a hand over his heart, "I would like to take a brief moment to talk about the true spirit of Christmas.
"If I had one wish that I could wish this holiday season, it would be for all the children of the world to join hands and sing together in the spirit of harmony and peace.
"And if I had two wishes that I could wish for this holiday season, the first would be for all the children of the world to join hands and sing in the spirit of harmony and peace. And the second would be for $30 million a month to be given to me, tax-free in a Swiss bank account.
"You know, if I had three wishes that I could make this holiday season-,"
"CUT! CUT! CUT! WARNER!" Bay hurled his scorching hot coffee mug at the young toon furiously and the poor soundman didn't jump out of the way fast enough. "Listen to me, you monstrous little creep, if it wasn't for your big name around here, I'd have you shut in a box floating down to sea. So you better read the God darn script, or I swear, I'll… I'll, er, I don't know! Something bad!"
When Yakko looked up clueless and sweet, the steaming director growled, "You're lucky enough to have this gig, and you can't stop goofing around! You wanna be in this production, you gotta do what I say, exactly the way I say it!"
"Uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh, Mr. Harbor-,"
"Bay!"
"Whatever. I didn't want to be in this production, I just wanted to try out the company taco bar. You roped me into this, so I think I deserve a little say in what I do. And what did I do wrong, anyway? I thought that introduction was tugging at the heartstrings, or audience's money, whichever you pick, though I have a feeling you'd pick the money- a real 'so schlocky you could just barf!' sort of tugging at the heartstrings, anyway."
"You can't talk about the big performances until they're ready to be performed! It's the element of surprise! It's important! We want to do things that the people won't be able to predict!"
Just then, Wakko, Dot, and Alice popped in beside Yakko, seemingly from out of nowhere, clad in carolers' garb and holding music books.
Yakko hopped down from the seat and stood tall on the unconscious soundman's coffee-soaked back. He grinned lazily and waved a hand at Alice, who pulled out a notepad. "I believe my representative here can counteract your statement, my dear Mr. Inland. Alice!" He clapped his hands together once.
Alice began scanning and read out loud, "In an opposing statement by my associate here, these 'unpredictable things', as you so crudely put it, include incredibly unrealistic explosions, Barbie doll sidekicks, unfunny comic relief used for space fillers, and even more tracking shots than a Scorsesse film, all at a whopping unnecessarily long average of a 154- minute run-time."
Bay, obviously trying to ignore the truthful clichés, bellowed, "This isn't a film, it's a holiday special, you worm!"
"Christmas special!" the siblings (and Alice) all corrected in unison.
To cope, Bay punched the soundman in the jaw as he was reeling to his feet. With a heavy clunk the soundman hit the floor again, but everyone was too scared to cross under Bay's huffing nose to get him. They all valued their own live, and the soundman wasn't really that important anyway, right?
Bay took a deep breath and continued, more slowly and forced, "We would like to appeal to everybody, not just whoever you want. We'd like to celebrate more than one holiday, so everybody can watch and enjoy and help boost our ratings so I can fund Transformers Five and Six and the new spin-off series."
"Whom," Alice piped up.
"Whom? Whom what?" Bay asked, deranged.
Alice sighed, and the siblings shook their heads disapprovingly at the fuming director. "You said those whoever we want, when you should have said whomever."
Bay's eyes were enflamed, and the crew was frozen in fear.
"Could. You. Stop. CORRECTING ME!"
"I don't know, could I?"
"GAAAAAAAAAH!"
The Warner siblings watched in distaste as the great director threw his temper fit by throttling the poor soundman's dazed body like a rag doll, among other things, the four of them not-so-secretly admiring the terrified faces of the crew behind him.
When Bay had finally calmed down (considerably, anyway. He was still shaking the soundman, but had stopped beating him with the microphone. That was an improvement), Wakko shook his head and asked with obvious aversion, "Why don't you go back to Paramount? They know how to handle you."
Alice whispered obnoxiously loudly, "The contract expired and they were sick and tired of his temper fits. It's called 'discipline'."
"Ooooooohhh. But I don't think it worked."
Bay ignored the statement and snarled through clenched teeth, "Can't you just say what the script says for God's sake?"
Yakko took a prolonged sip of his eggnog and shrugged. "I just figured I should give the audience a heads-up before they have to endure the horrible performances you've put together, Baby. I mean, it's not right to let them suffer like that. That's just a Steve Binder move, and that's not cool."
Bay let out a furious scream and ripped out a tuft of his hair. He kneeled, practically begging, 'Please, the script!"
"Oh, I'd love to, but Wakko ate it," Yakko said, inspecting his nails on gloved fingers.
Before Bay could scream again, Alice chimed in brightly, "Yakko, this time, just introduce the show by saying holiday, a- and be sure to mention Chanukah, and Kwanza, and whatever the scientologists celebrate!"
"Devil's worship, during Christmas?" Yakko asked uncertainly.
"Holiday, Yakko. And no, they don't worship the Devil, just Travolta. I- er," Alice faltered for a moment and mumbled to herself with a giggle, "You're right, Travolta is rather like the Devil-,"
"OKAY, children!" Bay shouted with a crazed grin, "Let's do this again."
So the cameras were poised once again, the soundman replaced with a fresh one, siblings placed at their posts, and with a clap of the snapper, the tape began rolling again.
The heavy curtains parted again to reveal the beautiful scene, but this time, Yakko was perched on a mat surrounded with corn and holding a menorah. Outside, the carolers were singing, Wakko banging on African drums and clanging jingle bells as Dot and Alice crooned 'Dreidel Dreidel Dreidel'. Yakko coughed into his fist and smiled serenely at the camera, sipping his eggnog. With a deep breath, he began gently:
Little angels in white tulle skirts sigh
As they twirl and leap through the frosty air
And drift down to the earthy pine boughs high
And settle to sleep in green needles bare.
The flakes fall gently outside the window
And pearl stars shine in the black velvet night;
Moonlight glints over the shimmering snow
And gilded warmth pools over silver white
The candlestick cries wax tears on the sill
And the bright fire roars over the sweet bark;
Sore carolers trudge home over the hill
And weakly hum their way through biting dark
And in the home- no tree or gifts newish
For you see my dear readers; the family was Jewish.
"CUT! OH MY GOSH, WARNER, ARE YOU INSANE?'
Yakko flipped his ears. "Oh no, just too good-looking."
When he received a scathing, murderous look from the red director, he shrugged, very annoyed, and said, "What? We're appealing to people who celebrate all holidays!"
"You're being antisemetic and racist!" Bay snarled, pointing an accusing finger.
Yakko placed his hands over his heart in shock and yelled, "Me? Whatdeya mean?"
"Yeah!"
"Yeah!"
"Yeah!"
"Butt out, you three! What you did was discriminating and unacceptable! You could've given the censors a heart attack!"
Yakko hopped up on Bay's chest and smashed his finger down on Bay's nose. "Listen here, Bayou, you asked us to appeal to all cultures and religions, and so we mashed 'em all into one, so they'd all be equal! And when we do appeal to all of them, you say we're racist! Stop being so sensitive and let us do our jobs!"
Bay grabbed Yakko's nape and flung him off as though he were infected. "There's a fine line between 'zany' and offensive, Yakko Warner!"
Yakko groaned and Alice said, "When Bugs Bunny dressed in a skirt and flirted around with Elmer, was that offensive?"
"No, I laughed my butt off!"
"Well then, why should you be offended by some innocent poking at religion? If someone dressed in drag today in a cartoon, it would be off the air immediately, because people are so sensitive to everything and would be offended somehow, though there is nothing offensive about it."
Bay crossed his arms stubbornly and looked away. She knew he knew she was right. Instead, he grunted, rubbing his temples miserably, "One more time, you little beasts. One. More. Time. And this time, let's just cut out the religions, please. Just… we need something explosive, something that will catch audiences' attention that doesn't involve drums and dreadful poems."
"It was a sonnet."
"Shut up."
As Bay went to go find his bottle of Tylenol, the siblings and Alice huddled together and Yakko whispered to his kid brother, "You ready to bring out the big guns?"
"I don't now about the guns, but I have the-,"
"SHHHHHHHHHHHH!" the other three hissed through their teeth.
"Oh, right, hehe. Yeah, I have 'em, in my gaggy bag! Still in the wrapping, too."
"Slappy is a saint."
And so [sigh] the set was once again set, the orchestra prepared, and the curtain lowered.
"And… gulp… action."
The curtain was raised a hair when a sudden onslaught of explosions erupted at the front of the orchestra pit, sending candy canes and tree baubles zooming through the air like bullets. The entire crew ducked down to avoid them and Bay grabbed handfuls of his hair out in hanks.
Through the ruins of the set, the sunset was glaring over the Burbank hills, the silhouette of car robots fighting on the furthest slope, and five helicopters roared across the blinding light and zoomed through the studio and just over the crew's heads, sending papers, cameras, boom mics, and cast members flying across the room from the beat of the propeller.
Out of the wreckage and thick white dust, a four figures rose, the sunset melting into the red sky behind them and setting their ebony fur to a blinding white. To see who they were, the cameraman closed in very tight on the people's faces, revealing them to be none other than three Warner siblings and Alice, all clad in military gear and Santa hats. An electric guitar screamed out a dreadful, deafening rendition of 'Rockin' Around the Christmas Tree' as the siblings climbed the wreckage and held up the smoldering Christmas tree.
With the crew looking on in terror and S.W.A.T teams swinging in through the gaping hole in the studio's wall and tigers and T-rexes running around and breathing fire in the background, the toons screamed, "HAVE A HAPPY HOLIDAY, YOU FILTHY ANIMALS!"
Wakko raised a small red button, and with a close-up wink and grin at the camera, said, "And a Happy New Year."
Click.
BOOM.
A choir of screeching guitars erupted from the wreckage, bombs and TMT raining down from the smoky sky like red wax snow, and Bay fell to his knees screaming and shrieking and swearing a sobbing his red eyes out, defeated.
"CUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUT! CUT! CUT! CUT! OH MY GOSH!"
The bombs stopped falling and the siblings hopped up to snuggle in Bay's lap sweetly. "Like that?"
Bay, who was by then petrified and lying pathetically in a puddle of his own tears, shrieked, "WHAT WAS THAT FOR?!"
Dot rolled her eyes and hugged him around the neck sweetly. "You said do 'something explosive', Silly!"
"You destroyed everything! Look at what you have done!"
Yakko wiped tears from his eyes and sighed, "I know, Peninsula, isn't it lovely? Truly one of your visions come true, huh? Now we did exactly what you wanted! Something unpredictable! But that's where you messed up: everything you do is predictable!"
Dot giggled. "Give us a kiss, kid!"
MmmmmmwWAAAAAA!
Bay flung them off and bellowed, "You mosters! You little mosters! You should all be committed! I want you off my set RIGHT now!"
Wakko looked around, admiring his work. "You don't have a set."
"I SWEAR I'LL KILL YOU!"
Yakko chuckled and didn't budge. "Kill us? Lagoon, baby, I don't think you can do any worse to us than what you did to Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles." He suddenly squinted and said to himself, "Uuuuuuuhhhhhhhh, I take that back- Transformers One, Two and Three…" He grimaced and raised his eyebrows at the director with uncertainty "Ooh- yeah, you can do worse. We're outta here."
Bay shrieked, "YOU'RE FIRED!"
"Will you still be needing us?" Wakko asked, motioning at the carolers Dot and Alice, and himself.
"NO! You're fired, too! You're ALL fired! Tell 'em, Don!"
Trump looked over from the mirror he was using to comb his hair over and pointed an accusing finger. "Yeah, you're fired, you're fired, you're fired, you're fired."
Dot winked. "Get it? Brace yourselves, readers; this fanfic's gonna be heavy on the cameos!"
Alice looked up at Bay and smiled. "I'm afraid you cannot do that, my dear. Because you see, in our contracts, we're owned by the studio, and are obligated to be in this whether you like it or not!"
Bay squinted. "But just a minute ago, Yakko said you didn't want to be in it, and he just wanted to try out the taco bar!"
"Which he was obligated to do," Alice said, and the four toons all grinned broadly.
"YOU'RE MAKING NO SENSE!"
"Well we don't have to, baby, we're cartoon characters," Yakko said sweetly.
Bay looked at the wreckage at his once-beautiful set and whispered hoarsely, "I don't even have a set anymore. I don't even have a tree."
Wakko jumped up and smooched his cheek lovingly. "Don't you worry, Michael! I'll go get you a new tree!"
Bay glared murderously. "You? Why should I trust you? You blew up my set!"
Alice popped in. "He's obligated to get you a new one."
Bay stared down incredulously. Alice smiled up, batting her lashed adorably. He shuddered from the sickening sweetness and glared. "I hate you."
"Ditto."
Bay set down Wakko, wary of his dribbling tongue, and said, "Okay, you little creep, off you go. You better get a good one, or I swear I'll have you boiled for my dinner."
Wakko rubbed his tummy with a bright smile. "Faboo! I taste great with a little garlic and sage, you know."
And with that, Wakko headed out to get a tree, walking out into the blood red and helicopter-infested sunset, the heavy metal choir screaming 'Silent Night' as he went.
