Disclaimer: Nope, not mine. But you'd know if it was.

Rating: This is PG13 for a reason, and if I could make it PG16 or something, I would.

Pairings: None, though I hint at everything.

Summary: Josef rants about the holidays throughout the year.

Warning: This work of fiction may contain material that is offensive to some people. If bashing religious and non-religious holidays bothers you, you have been warned. I would like to remind the readers that this fanfic does not reflect my opinions on any of the following: religion, politics, life, death, love and any other topic you don't like people to piss on. I am simply trying to write as a fictional character. Apologies in advance to all those who are offended.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Due to the great amount of love I have received from you, my wonderful reviewers, Christmas will be a three-part chapter: Daytime party, Christmas Eve, and Christmas Morning. And following that, there will be a reprise of New Year's Eve. Thank you one and all for reviewing! These chapters are all for you! I plan to finish before Christmas, so if my updates are slow, feel free to yell at me! I am quite lazy at times, and I often need a swift kick in the ass to get me going. Happy holidays!!


AS I SEE IT...
Chapter 9
Santa the Claus-et Pedophile

"You're going."

"No."

"You promised."

"Not to this."

"You're still going."

"Make me."

"Is that a dare, or a double-dare?"

I hung up the phone in disgust. I agreed to attend Beth's Christmas party if I ruined Thanksgiving, which, to my knowledge, I did nothing of the sort. I had no idea where Mick got the idea that he could possibly make me attend a children's secret Santa gift exchange party celebration or whatnot. Children! Adult humans are hard enough to deal with, and with my reputation from Halloween, I should like to think that Beth would know better than to insist on me attending a children's party at a church.

"BuzzWire's doing a special on holiday celebrations throughout LA," Mick had explained earlier. "And Beth was assigned to cover the gift exchange at the Salvation Army."

I never knew the Salvation Army was a church thing. Maybe because I simply wasn't interested, but I'd always assumed they were a military branch or something. Apparently I was mistaken.

There was a sudden knock on my door, and I immediately slid all twelve locks into place. And the chain thing, too. I was not going to some kiddie Santa party, and there was no way in hell Mick could make me.

--

About five minutes later, I found myself hog-tied and shoved rather unceremoniously into the trunk of Mick's car. I was pissed. Apparently I had been misinformed about how important it was to Beth that I attend this retarded little gathering, but the ever-loving Mick St. John kindly explained to me in words I could understand what the spirit of Christmas was all about.

Meaning the sonovabitch broke down my door and staked me.

Then bound me hand and foot and tossed me into the trunk.

Damn him!

I finally felt the car slow to a stop at only god-knows-where, but wherever we were, I was over 99.999872 percent sure I didn't want to be there. And when Mick opened the trunk, my worst fears were confirmed. Beth's place.

"If you get Beth fired, Josef, I will do something so horrible that you will wish it was Christmas every day," Mick warned. I simply glared, which was all I could do under the circumstances. He loosened the ropes and tossed them into the corner of the trunk by my head, then slowly pulled the stake out of my heart.

The minute I could move, I lashed out at his face with my hand, leaving three deep scratch marks on his cheek. "I hate you," I hissed. "I really, really do."

"Love you too," he said absently, and the wound on his face closed. "Now get out of there before people think I'm abducting children."

"You'd deserve it," I grumbled, climbing out of the trunk nonetheless. "Why are we here?"

Mick slammed the trunk shut. "To help Beth with her garland. She's been having trouble with it."

"Funny," I commented. "She strikes me as the type who'd start decorating before Thanksgiving."

Mick rounded on me again. "And speaking of Thanksgiving, Josef," he began threateningly. "Please don't be yourself today. Please, just… don't."

"If you don't like my creativity, why are you putting me in a room full of garland, children, Santas and opportunities?" I asked curiously. "The temptation is awful!"

Mick knocked on Beth's door. "For once in your life, can't you just smile and wish someone a Merry Christmas?"

I rolled my eyes. "Of course I can. I just choose not to."

"Mick!" Beth exclaimed happily as she opened the door, then greeted me with a much less enthusiastic, "Josef."

"Merry Christmas!" I said with a smile that I hope she didn't see right through with her womanly ways.

Both she and Mick looked equally surprised. "Um, Merry Christmas, Josef," Beth replied cautiously. "What's he planning?" she whispered to Mick.

"I have no idea," Mick replied, shaking his head in defeat. "Anyways, he agreed to help with the garland so we can get to the party on time."

"You liar!" I snapped. "I never said I would—"

"That's great!" Beth said, ignoring me. "Here you go, Josef!" She shoved a box of garland and a nail gun into my arms. "Just hang it up like the garland in the kitchen. You can start with the living room."

Mick snickered slightly as Beth skipped off into the kitchen. "I still hate you," I snapped quietly.

As Mick went to join the appetizer in the kitchen, I glanced at the garland already hanging on the wall. It couldn't be too hard, right?

Wrong.

Ten minutes and three nails through my hand later, I was starting to feel a bit like Jesus Christ. "Josef, you're cleaning that blood off the floor!" snapped Beth, pegging me in the head with a scrub brush.

"Ow!" I whined pathetically. "Aren't women supposed to be caring and nurturing and shit like that?"

"Shut up and hold still, Josef," Mick said without any real venom, prying the nail loose from the wall and one of the bones in my hand. "I'm honestly considering going into the medical field after all the surgery I do on you."

"Great," I commented. "Maybe then you could give me some anesthetic when you—OW OW OKAY, I GET IT!" He finally pulled the nail free, allowing me to detach my hand from the wall.

Beth winced at the bloodstains on her wall and floor. "Maybe we should just quit while we're ahead," she suggested. "I can get Josh to help me with this when he gets off work."

"Best idea I've heard all day," I agreed, rubbing the freshly-healed flesh of my hand. "I am never touching a nail gun again."

"Best idea you've had all day," Mick retorted drily.

Beth rolled her eyes. "Mick, could you help me in the kitchen? I need a hand with the boxes."

"Sure," he said, tossing the bloody nail into the trash can. "Josef, behave yourself."

"Yes, mommy," I said sarcastically, grabbing the remote and flipping through channels. I heard the clattering of Tupperware in the other room, and turned up the volume a bit. Christmas special. Christmas special. Charlie Brown Christmas. Cooking channel. How the Grinch Stole Christmas. Shopping channel. Miracle on 34th Street. Boring! Finally, I flipped to some corny slasher film. It was halfway in, so I had no clue what was happening, but it was in the middle of the obligatory slaughter, so I didn't complain. Some guy was in the process of getting his fingers stuck into his asshole like birthday candles when I noticed something lying on the table beside me. A mini voice recorder.

Then I got an idea. I got a wonderful, awful idea!

I turned the volume up as high as it would go, then hit record. "Please, stop!" the guy was bawling as the killer approached with a large machete. "Someone get me out of here! Please! I want to live!" I almost laughed as the man let out a piercing shriek of agony. Pussy. "Please…" his voice broke into a sobbing whisper. "I don't want to die!" Another scream, and the killer cut off his head. I stopped recording.

"Josef, turn it down!" shouted Beth. "I'm on the phone!"

Obediently, I lowered the volume. I had what I needed, anyways.

Mick re-entered the room, looking slightly apprehensive. "Josef, we're leaving for the children's party in a few minutes. I'm not gonna have to stake you again, am I?"

I grinned. "I'll come quietly," I said. "Just don't stuff me in the trunk this time."

"Whatever you're planning, Josef, I will fight at every turn to thwart it."

I had no doubt that he would.

--

The party was loud, noisy, and full of shrieking children. Some young guy with a fake beard was dressed as Santa Claus, and was taking note of all the toys the kids wanted for Christmas. All looked right, but I knew better. That Santa's hand was lingering just a little too long on the children's backsides, squeezing every now and then as a particularly cute one told him in great detail about the new Barbie doll or shiny red toy fire engine they wanted.

'PERVERT!' I wanted to shout, but making a huge din and accusing Santa of pedophilia would probably be frowned upon by the vast majority of people present, no matter how true it was.

I noticed Mick talking to a few people by the coffee pot, and approached him in the special way only I can manage. "Mick! Just the man I wanted to see!" I exclaimed, clapping him on the shoulder. "I just found something interesting you might want to see for yourself."

"I'm sorry, I'll be right back," he said politely to the two people he'd been conversing with. "What is it, Josef?" he asked.

"Take a look at this," I said, leading him by the arm to the platform where Santa was seated.

Mick looked confused. "It's some guy dressed as Santa," he observed bluntly. "What, you wanna sit on his lap or something?"

"Watch his hand, and you'll see exactly why not." Mick watched, and his eyes suddenly widened.

"Has he been doing that to all those kids?" he whispered, aghast.

I nodded. "All day. May I?"

"You most certainly may not," he answered automatically. "I'll get security."

I pouted. "But Mick," I whined, imitating the kid from Charlie Brown with the blanket. "That's what Christmas is all about! C'mon, let me have fun."

"No!"

"Hey, you two!" greeted Beth, followed by her cameraman. "Mind if I interview you for my piece on the party?"

"That might not be the best—" began Mick.

"Sure!" I interrupted. "I've got a great angle of this party for you to follow!"

Beth brightened visibly. "Oh, that's great! It's been pretty dull here so far." She gestured for her cameraman to start filming. "Well, I'm very glad the two of you could make it to this party," she began. "So tell me, what's your view on the event?"

"It's been great, actually, minus a few setbacks," I said brightly. "By the way, thank you so much for inviting Mick and I."

"Oh, it was no problem!" Beth said cheerily. "Would you mind clarifying on those setbacks you mentioned?"

I grinned. "My pleasure. If you wouldn't mind zooming in on Jolly Ol' St. Nicholas over there…" I pointed at Santa. "Watch his hand, please."

Beth and the cameraman's eyes bugged. "My… God!" gasped Beth. "Someone get security over there!" she called.

"What seems to be the problem, Miss Turner?" asked one of the security men.

Beth made sure the camera was still rolling. "That Santa Claus is groping the children!" she exclaimed.

The security guard glanced at Santa doubtfully, then suddenly turned back to Beth. "Understood. We'll get right on it."

Beth turned back to the camera. "A shocking turn of events at what we thought to be a child-friendly, wholesome Christmas party! It turns out the man representing the very heart and soul of the joys of Christmas in children all around the world is molesting those same children within the walls of a church! Josef, how did you notice that?"

I shrugged, as Mick rolled his eyes. "I don't like Santas," I said simply. "I don't trust grown men can who let little kids sit on their lap by the hundreds and talk about toys without going insane."

"Well, that was… insightful…" Beth said with a slight frown of annoyance. "But still rather fortunate. Your intuition was correct, and serves as a good lesson to us all." She turned back to the camera. "Be careful who you let handle your children. We'll keep you posted on this story as it develops." The cameraman stopped filming. "What a creeper!" she exclaimed, dropping her news-whore bravado. "God, sickos are everywhere!"

"Aren't background checks required for that job?" asked Mick.

"I thought so, but apparently they missed something!"

I shrugged. "At least some good came out of it," I reasoned.

"GOOD?!" exclaimed Beth in shock. "How is any of this good?!"

With a grin, I replied, "He has AB- blood. I found my next meal!" Mick and the appetizer glared at me. "What? I'm thirsty!"

"What you are is hopeless," Beth said, shaking her head. "Anyways, what are we gonna do about Santa now? How on earth can we find a replacement on such short notice?"

I shrugged. "Who cares?"

"The children care, Josef!" she snapped. "They've been told that that man was impersonating Santa Claus, and the real one should be here shortly."

Mick was suddenly looking at me in a whole new light. "Josef…" he began in that tone that suggested he had an idea I wouldn't like. "Maybe you could—"

"No way in hell," I retorted before Mick could even finish asking. "I won't grope the kids, but I will eat them."

"Why am I not surprised," Beth sighed. "Um, Mick, I know this is asking a lot, but could you…?" She trailed off inquisitively.

Mick smiled in his 'just for Beth' way. "Sure, Beth. Just tell me what to do." I shook my head. Whipped!

Beth led Mick away, but not before giving me one final warning to behave myself. Behave. Right. I had no intention of doing anything of the sort. I did have to work fast though. It would take about twenty minutes for Beth to convince the church to let Mick play Santa Claus, so I would have to hurry.

I absently reached into my pocket and pulled out the voice recorder. If all went well, this would be a Christmas no one would forget.

--

Security was obviously trying to make up for it's previous fuck up by interrogating the hell out of Mick, despite the fact that he was a Private Investigator and had helped blow the whistle on the other Santa. So while they were bombarding him with questions on everything from his name to the history of water, I snuck around and found the Santa Claus outfit.

It wasn't too hard to modify. Just a few staples at the hems joining the pants to the top and a few staples securing the boots to the pant legs, and ta-daa! A Santa waiting to be stuffed like a scarecrow.

But what to stuff it with…?

I tried to think over the loud Christmas music playing in the other room, and found myself unconsciously humming along.

'You're a mean one, Mr. Grinch.
You really are a heel.
You're as cuddly as a cactus,
You're as charming as an eel.
Mr. Grinch.'

I snorted. How apt.

Now, back to the stuffing problem… All I had on hand was a box of food they'd been serving at the buffet table, some cotton candy and part of a chicken that hadn't been cooked too well.

That would have to work.

'You're a monster… Mr. Grinch.'

I began stuffing the legs with chicken bones, cheese cubes and vile-smelling hor d'oeuvres, then added the cotton candy, extra peppermints and vegetable dip on top.

'You're a vile one… Mr. Grinch.'

After checking to make sure Mick and Beth wouldn't see me, I darted out of the building as fast as my super vampire skills would allow. I went out of my way to stay on the side of the room opposite the large stone fireplace, though. The flames were huge, and the only fire I like is the kind that shoots out of a screamer fountain firework.

'You nauseate me… Mr. Grinch.'

Who the hell was Mr. Grinch, anyways? How did he relate to Christmas? Was he the guy who stabbed Frosty the Snowman with an icicle or something? That would explain why this guy hated him so much.

Getting onto the roof was no problem. As I heaved the smelly Santa scarecrow to the edge of the chimney, I made sure to stomp my feet extra loud. I could hear voices from below: "Did you hear that?" "Someone's on the roof!" "Mommy, it's Santa!"

I grinned. Perfect. I shoved the Santa dummy into the smoking chimney, and watched him slide down. Fortunately, the bulk of the dummy blocked most of the smoke, so I could see that it had gone most of the way down, then gotten stuck at a point where the people below would probably be able to see his boots over the flames.

With a flourish, I pulled the voice recorder out of my pocket, turned the volume all the way up, pressed play, and dropped it in. I knew I couldn't linger on the roof long. No doubt people would investigate the loud footsteps.

So I hurried back inside, and I arrived at possibly the best moment.

The flames were licking the bottom of the dummy's boots, and the tape recorder was clearly audible over the crackling of the fire. 'Someone get me out of here! Please! I want to live!' One child started crying, and that was the spark that lit the powder keg. Almost every child started screaming 'Help Santa! Help Santa!' and bawling their eyes out. The adults started emptying fire extinguishers onto the blaze, thinking someone was actually stupid enough to climb into a smoking chimney. I was busy doing all I could to keep from laughing my ass off as the adults pulled "Santa" out of the chimney. The bones and hor d'oeuvres spilled out onto the floor like guts.

"SANTA'S DEAD!!" one pig-tailed girl shrieked, face glistening with tears. "WAAAHH!!!"

"Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night," I whispered smugly.

"Cool!" exclaimed one boy of about ten. "I found one of his bones!"

Then I got the feeling. Like there was someone standing right behind me, glaring with murderous intent. "Hey, Mick!" I greeted without turning around. "Did you see what happened?"

"It's not funny," he snapped. "Why the hell would you do something like that?"

"And who said it was me?" He arched an eyebrow. "No, really," I insisted. "Who said it was me? I need to kill them."

"Josef, this has you written all over it."

I rolled my eyes, and glanced at Beth, who was covering the footage on video. "In a horrible, twisted prank, some immature, juvenile vandal has stuffed a Santa suit full of meat, cotton candy and vegetable dip down the chimney, along with a recording of what appears to be a rather gruesome death scene from a 1980's slasher film." I grinned, but winced as I caught Beth's glare in my direction. "I don't know what kind of person would do such a childish thing, but whoever it is must be a real piece of work. I'm sure I speak on behalf of everyone here when I say "Grow up!" This has been most upsetting to the children today, and it's certainly not going to be visions of sugarplums that will be dancing through their heads tonight."

I met Beth's glare with one of my own. She didn't back down an inch. Whoops. I must've really pissed her off this time. "Josef, you're a force of nature when you're bored, you know that?"

"I wasn't bored," I said in surprise. "On Easter, I was bored. On Thanksgiving, I was bored. No, I wasn't bored at all today."

Mick frowned, confused. "Then why on earth did you—?"

"I was pissed off, Mick," I answered simply. "You and your little appetizer conspired against me, and it resulted in me getting staked and shoved in a trunk." I shrugged. "I thought I'd piss you two off in return. It's the gift that keeps on giving."

To my surprise, Mick started laughing. "Y-you think…" he said between laughs. "You think that actually pissed me off?" he gasped, pointing at the mess by the fireplace. "Josef, that was the most hilarious thing you've ever done!"

"Who the hell are you?" I asked, peering into Mick's eyes. "The real Mick St. John would probably have left me staked and hog-tied at Beth's feet for judgment."

"If you two are finished…?" Beth said suddenly, making both of us jump and take a giant step back. "Mick, I cannot believe you! Did you help him with this?"

I gasped in mock outrage. "As if I needed the help!" I exclaimed.

"I am going to make you pay for this," she hissed at me, eyes narrowing.

Ooh, the intimidation game! Well, two can play at that! My eyes flashed white as I bared my fangs at her, and I saw her flinch visibly.

"Josef, knock it off," Mick snapped.

Beth's face suddenly split into a grin. And it wasn't an ordinary grin, either. It was the type of grin that crazy bloodthirsty vampire women get when they see an opportunity to get something they want. "Look up, you two," she said sweetly.

We did. There was a tiny bunch of berries and leaves hanging from the doorway. Mick paled visibly, for some reason. "What is it?" I asked. "Holly?"

"It's mistletoe," Mick mumbled, blushing. "Beth, you wouldn't—!"

"What's mistletoe?" I asked, confused. Some little kid suddenly appeared from behind me.

"You don't know what mistletoe is, mister?" he asked, grinning.

I shook my head. "I'm guessing it's nothing good…"

"You have to kiss anyone you meet under it!"

My face paled as well. "WHAT?"

"I think he just found out what mistletoe is," Mick commented to Beth, as the youngster scampered off.

Beth looked rather pleased with herself. "Well, now that we're all on the same page, get going!"

"Beth, this is a church!" protested Mick. "I haven't been chased by a mob yet, and I don't want that to stop today!"

"It's not that bad, actually," I commented offhandedly. "As long as you can outrun the vamp next to you, that is."

Mick glared at me. "Whose side are you on?"

"My own side! I told you I didn't want to come!"

"Hey, I'm not the one who stuffed a Santa into the fire!"

Some random middle-aged woman walked by us, paused, and shook her head. "Just kiss and make up, you two," she sighed.

"WHAT?!" we both exclaimed as she walked away.

"See, people already think you're an item!" Beth laughed. "Come on. I'm waiting."

"No!" Mick protested. I just settled for a glare.

The little kid was back, and this time, he brought friends. "You have to do it!" he insisted. "It's tra-di-tion-al." He sounded out the big word. This kid was going to get very annoying very fast.

"It's revenge," Mick corrected.

"But it's the spiwit of the Cwistmas!" one of the kid's friends said in her annoying, high pitched voice.

Please, if there is a God, make them shut up!

"Kiss! Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!"

Apparently there isn't one.

"Beth, please don't do this!"

"Do it!"

"Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!"

The noise was finally getting to be too much. I saw only one way out, and I seized the opportunity. I leaned forward and briefly pressed my lips to Mick's in a quick but obvious kiss. "There! You happy?" I snapped. "Now will everyone shut up before I drain them of their life's blood?!"

The kids scampered.

Mick had shut up too. His eyes were wide in horror, and for some reason, so were Beth's. "I didn't think you'd really do it," she breathed, mouth hanging open slightly.

"If you didn't want me to, why were you nagging at us?" I exclaimed in outrage.

"Because I wanted to piss you two off!"

I rolled my eyes. "Well, congratulations. Mission accomplished. Now can we get out of here?"

Mick nodded dumbly, and Beth followed after him. I grinned slightly. That ought to shut them both up for the rest of the day.

Unfortunately, I was mistaken. The minute we got into the car, Beth began yammering a mile a minute about, of all things, caroling. "No," protested Mick, sighing. "We are not caroling."

"Remember last time we celebrated Christmas?" I asked. "You, me and Coraline. We sang filthy Christmas carols until someone called the cops!"

"We only sang them because you didn't know the real lyrics," Mick replied.

"What songs did you sing?" Beth asked. Mick and I exchanged glances, then burst out laughing. "What? What's so funny?"

Mick finally stopped laughing long enough to explain. "Well, you'd probably only know one of the songs we sang. It's pretty popular now, too."

"What is it?"

Mick blushed slightly. "It's called—Josef, stop it!—Sorry. It's called 'I Saw Daddy Kissing Santa Claus'."

Beth blinked, then joined us laughing. "Okay," she giggled. "I see where that could be funny."

"If you want funny, you should have seen your face when I kissed Mick!"

Mick flushed several previously undiscovered shades of scarlet. "One day, Josef, you and I are going to look back on today, laugh nervously, and change the subject."