So I wasn't going to do an A/N on this chapter, but hi, anon reviewer talim! Your review was just far too ironic to pass on. I chose PA because that's where I live and I wanted to write in a familiar setting. All of my other fics are set in Ohio, New York, or Skyrim. ;DDDD
Second (and I am crying with laughter because of the irony) Taylor Swift IS from my hometown and not only that but we went to rival high schools in the same neighborhood at the same time. So a lot of my friends in high school were her friends. Where we grew up isn't as ridiculous as this fic, but it's about a 15 minute drive from our nice suburbs to the country. :D
So thank you for an A+ review full of hilarious irony!
Now, back to your daily dose of DJ Snowflake and Scrooge!
DJ Snowflake and Scrooge
December 10
1:19 am
"MERRY CHRISTMAS!"
Santana startled at Mercedes's desk at the obnoxious Merry Christmas and glared across the room to radio on the filing cabinet.
"Sorry! I was just practicing. I don't want to surprise anyone with a bad Merry Christmas when it comes. Hopefully you feel the same way and you'll sing along to the next song with me."
"Bah, humbug" no, that's too strong
Cause it is my favorite holiday
But all this year's been a busy blur
Don't think I have the energy
Santana adjusted her reading glasses so they rested on the top of her head and took a deep breath. She reached across Mercedes' desk for her pad of paper and bit the cap on the top of her pen – Mercedes' pen – in concentration. She had spent a good part of the night going through the National Register Bulletin and how to apply for evaluation. It hadn't been easy. The PDFs looked like they had been scanned from a bulletin printed in 1983. Half of the time, the pages didn't load or only partially loaded and then there were a dozen links that contained pertinent information. No matter what Santana wrote down, it was becoming clear that this website would only take her so far. It wouldn't gift wrap an application or point her to the exact document she would need for Hummel's Bed and Breakfast.
She slid her glasses back down over the bridge of her nose before she wrote down a few more documents required. She scribbled: Historical Person of Significance.
Merry Christmas, Merry Christmas
Couldn't miss this one this year
Merry Christmas, Merry Christmas
Couldn't miss this one this year
Santana glanced back to the radio. Did DJ Snowflake have to insist on playing the most nerve-wracking and annoying songs in the entire Christmas catalog? The refrain repeated another five times before Santana started chewing on the back of Mercedes's pen again and looked back to the filing cabinet.
The song finally ended and Santana released a breath of relief. She had finally found a comfortable position in her chair where she could reach her notes, mouse, keyboard, and her coffee. As much as she would prefer not listening to Snowflake abuse the repeat policy for the DJ's favorite ten Christmas songs, Santana found it hard to keep her eyes open without something annoying playing in the background.
"So, listeners, as you know, today was the big release of The Berry Best Christmas Album: The Definitive Christmas Edition. Unfortunately, I couldn't be there, but I heard it was a great time put together by Roz Washington. I also heard that Roz's Golden Pump tried to give out a special album collection – part of a limited series-the winner mysteriously disappeared before they could collect their prize."
Santana leaned forward over her yellow lined paper into the computer screen and clicked on one of the links to the National Register Bulletin, document 16a for registration.
"So until someone calls in with a request, I am going to play every Rachel Berry song from every album – including the deep tracks; starting with It Came Upon a Midnight Clear."
Santana tried to tune out the music as best she could and continued to jot down notes.
"Now Hark! The Herald Angels Sing. Unless you want to be the first person to dial 1-800-SNOFLAKE."
It was getting harder to focus on the screen when DJ Snowflake played the fourth consecutive Rachel Berry song. Santana dropped her pen and pad to the desk and stood up. Fuck it. She walked past the radio on the cabinet and out of Mercedes' office. The hallway was dark except for a few emergency lights that glowed over the exits and around the base of the floors. It was only her third night at the town hall, but Santana could easily navigate the dark halls without turning on the lights. While she had enjoyed Mercedes' visit the other night, she didn't want to get in the habit of people calling her best friend to check on the town hall.
She walked down the stairs to the town records. Santana turned on Doris's desk light and walked over to the card catalog.
"Of course, how could I forget Rachel Berry's inspired cover of Joy to the World that took the Christmas song industry by storm in 1963. That was just a year after she had come back to visit Midtown that winter."
Christmas song industry? Was there even a thing? Santana tried to ignore the DJ's rambling, but Snowflake's mini history lesson triggered her memory from the Hummel's Bed and Breakfast.
1962 – guestbook with phone number, portrait done by Reginald Turnbottom, a local artist, one gold inlaid brush, three sheet music books – only one had been written in, and records of stay.
Santana closed her eyes and visualized what she could remember of Kurt's 1962 Rachel Berry box. Reginald Turnbottom's portrait hung adjacent to the record player in the corner of her room. The self-important Rachel Berry wore a long green nightgown looking dress with a white collar around her neck. Her fingers were strategically placed over a gold star statue and her eyes stared straight at Santana.
Santana opened her eyes and tried to clear her head of lingering thoughts or images of the creepy Berry portraits. The last thing she needed was to think about going back to sleep in that room.
"So call that number 1-800-SNOFLAKE to get your own Definitive Collection and to request any Christmas song. I can play these Rachel Berry songs all night long."
Santana grabbed her cell phone and sprinted up the stairs. "Someone has to put an end to this."
Brittany's heart jumped at the red flash on her dashboard to signal that she finally had a caller on the line. Without waiting for Holly to ask if she wanted to screen the caller, Brittany punched the line through.
"YOU ARE CALLER NUMBER ONE!" Brittany exclaimed. At the same time, she hit the button for the celebration track to play. "You just won The Berry Best Christmas Album: The Definitive Christmas Edition limited release! How excited are you?"
"You've got to be kidding me." The voice muttered.
Confused by the response, Brittany cleared her throat. Maybe this woman didn't know she had made it through the line. She raised her voice just a little. "Caller! Can you believe that you just won this one of a kind gift that someone abandoned today at Roz's Golden Pump? Their loss is your gain! What station just hooked you up with the greatest gift ever?"
"What? I don't want it! I didn't want it before! I just wanted someone to call you to stop the non-stop Berry playlist."
"Before? What are you talki- wait..." Brittany's bright eyes flashed over to Holly. "Is this my Scrooge caller?"
"Your what? Let's make one thing clear, Snowflake, I'm not your anything."
"Well technically you're my first caller tonight so that makes you my winner."
"Absolutely not. You can keep it – whatever it is."
"Then are you calling to make a request because that's the only way I'm going to stop playing Berry songs tonight."
"I will never make a Christmas song request, Snowflake, so you can forget it."
The Scrooge caller's voice trailed off as if thinking about something. Brittany was about to suggest that she dedicate the next Rachel Berry song to her, but something made her wait.
"Maybe you would have more than one caller if you stopped giving out the wrong number to call in."
"What?" Brittany scrunched her nose and turned to Holly. She hit the button to talk to Holly directly. "What's Scrooge talking about?"
Holly answered back. "No idea."
Brittany switched back to the phone line broadcasting over the radio. "What are you talking about?"
"You realize that the number to call into the radio station is 1-800-973-WMHS and not 1-800-SNOFLAKE? When I tried dialing that other number, I got connected to an ornament factory in Michigan. I found your station's number in the phone book and that's what I've been calling. You probably should have checked if you had a call-in number before advertising it every single night."
Brittany's jaw dropped and she whipped her head back to Holly. Her boss scrambled. Brittany could see the confusion on her face switch to panic. Holly frantically dug around her office on the other side of the glass searching for confirmation.
"I don't have a call in number?"
"Nope!" Scrooge's answer sounded something akin to pleasure. Brittany could hardly believe it. Not only had Scrooge one upped her this time, but how many times had listeners called into an ornament factory in Michigan instead of her show?
"You know, now would probably be a good time to try playing something else. I've heard there are other songs besides Christmas ones."
The phone clicked dead.
Brittany opened and closed her mouth a hundred times in disbelief. Holly waved frantically behind the glass with a guilty cringe. She mouthed the word. Sorry. Scrooge was right? She had been giving out the wrong phone number for the past ten days?
She only had one choice.
Brittany turned her feed back on and flashed Holly a "well shit" expression. Her mouth pressed against the mic of the headset and without missing another beat, she enthusiastically spoke. "Well I guess we can move on from our extra-long Berry Block for the night and hold on to that Definitive Edition collection for the next time Scrooge calls in. Until then, I am taking any Christmas request you might have at 1-800-973-WMHS. I repeat that's 1-800-9-7-3-W-M-"
She stopped talking. Her dashboard lit up once and then a second time. Brittany's attention jumped to Holly. She mouthed to her boss. More than one?
The incredulity on Holly's face was enough to confirm that DJ Snowflake did indeed have more than one caller waiting on the line.
Brittany couldn't stop smiling. She hit the button, held onto her headset with her right hand, and spun around in her chair. "Hello listener! This is DJ Snowflake and you're on WMHS 97.3. What song can I play for you?"