A/N: MERRY CHRISTMAS EVE.

Picture this scene: The clichéd Christmas scene of a cozy-looking room with a fire burning away and a decorated tree in the corner. Through a window, you can see snow falling down softly.

Then you see Snow falling down heavily.

President Snow.

The events leading up to the President's predicament were surprisingly enough, more entertaining than Snow making a fool of himself.

It started out on Saturday night – Christmas Eve. Snow was lazing around in his office, while a whole bunch of other people planned his Christmas, which involved a public address, a party with a few Hunger Games victors, and avoiding fangirls.

So, Christmas for Snow was like an average day. But with more presents.

At least, that was how he planned it.

"Well, I think I'm gonna call it a night. I've been working hard today," Snow yawned, standing up. He didn't mention that he hadn't done anything at all the entire day, except maybe eat and sleep and laugh at other people.

The thing was, absolutely no-one goes to sleep at five pm, except maybe toddlers. And though you could compare Snow's mental capacity with that of a toddler, he didn't sink so low as to mimic their sleeping patterns. Usually.

So, long story short, Snow snuck out. Despite the fact that not a single person cared, he still stalked out of the building while wearing a ninja outfit.

To be perfectly honest, I'm not sure if this is epic or just Snow being insane.

Snow ended up at some random person's party, where everyone was dressed up like either Santa Claus, a reindeer, or anything else remotely Christmas related.

Bear in mind, Snow was still dressed like a ninja.

"Yo, Snowy!" A voice called, causing the President to whirl. It was kind of sad to see a ninja caught off-guard, which is why Snow should never be allowed to wear a ninja suit ever again.

"Ah, knew it was you! Guys, this is my homedog."

"Jonesy. Shut up."

Snow stared at the group of people – plus one talking koala – with a perplexed look on his face.

"Paul, you know nothing. Hell, you think Christmas is in the winter!"

"That's because it's winter now," Paul hissed.

"Nonsense. Christmas is meant to be spent in Summer, on the beach with surfing and stuff. None of this 'Let's-Huddle-Round-The-Fire' crap."

"What?" Snow asked, still extremely confused.

"Mate, I'm Australian. We do holidays right."

"You do holidays upside-down, more like," Paul muttered.

Jonesy glared at Paul. "I really don't want to admit that that was kind of witty."

"Was it?" Snow gave the pair an odd look.

Jonesy turned to Snow. "Look, Snow, you should know that Christmas just doesn't happen in winter!"

"Christmas is always in winter. Always," Snow looked down on Jonesy menacingly.

"I'm just saying, it ain't Christmas without dingoes stealing babies."

Jonesy and Paul exchanged a look, and then burst out into peals of laughter. It was one of those moments where you take a step back and go 'Aww, they don't really hate each other.'

Snow then left with surprisingly few accusations of being a racist from Jonesy, and went back to his mansion because frankly, conversations with Jonesy demanded to be ended by the prompt leaving of wherever the damn koala was.

Too bad Snow got kidnapped on the way home.

That's right. The President, still dressed like a ninja, got kidnapped.

Well, kidnapped is probably the wrong term. Conscription is probably more accurate.

And you know what?

Personally, I think Snow suited the Santa suit much more than the ninja suit.

I'll skip over the part where Snow was actually getting into the suit, because honestly, it only involves a lot of screaming, death threats, and high pitched girly wailing. Not that Snow would admit to the last one, of course.

So Snow ended up walking the streets dressed as Santa Claus, handing out candy and cheap toys to children. And people who acted like children.

"Is that... Snow?" A familiar voice whispered.

"No. Can't be. Is it?" A male voice answered, his voice full of skepticism.

"Uh, President Snow?" The first voice asked.

"What are you doing?" The other person whispered urgently. "Are you forgetting he threatened you. With your life. And my life. And everyone else's life."

"Hi," Snow said, walking up to the couple. He nodded at the two of them in turn. "Katniss. Peeta."

"Um, I guess... Merry Christmas?" Peeta offered, and for a guy who was usually good with people, he was kind of failing.

Snow resisted the urge to yell "Bah, Humbug" and offered them candy. Because that's what pedophi – I mean Presidents – do.

Katniss politely declined and made up an excuse to leave. ("Um, we've got to go, uh, bake stuff. Well, Peeta does. I'm supervising. Bye.")

A few more hours of handing out candy passed, and somehow, in those few hours, Snow ended up unconscious on a sidewalk.

Who knew five-year-olds could beat up a creepy President?

"Get up."

Snow groaned. The sidewalk was becoming increasingly comfortable, which probably wasn't a good thing.

"Get up."

Another groan. Well, it was more of a whimper, really. How did Snow become President again?

"Get. Up."

Snow let out another pathetic groan, which was then met with a hard kick in his stomach.

"Ow!" His eyes flew open in a split second, and Snow looked up at his attacker, annoyed. "What was that for?"

The man sighed. "Get up."

Snow, still lying on the ground, placed his hands on his hips and said in the tone of a four-year-old, "Well what if I don't want to?"

The man answered with another kick to the stomach. "Do you want me to kick lower? You look like you'd make a good soprano vocalist."

Snow started to stand up as the man wound his leg back for another shot.

"Damn, I was kinda hoping you'd ignore me. We need a new soprano for our barbershop quartet."

"Wait. You're from-"

"That Barbershop Quartet you killed? Sort of. Those guys were my brothers. And my dad. And the random guy we found off the street."

"So... You're rebuilding?"

"Pretty much."

And that was the last thing Snow remembered before being knocked out for the second time that day.

When he finally woke up, he was in the room described earlier. The Clichéd-Christmas-Scene one.

"Wha-?"

A man – the same one as before – shoved a book full of music into Snow's hands.

"Go home. Learn the music. We have a concert tomorrow."

Then, Snow was promptly shoved out the door, an action which directly resulted in him faceplanting the icy pavement. I won't go into detail about the rest of Christmas Eve night, because to be honest, President Snow was pretty boring. He went home, ignored the sheet music from the random quartet guy and went to bed.

Christmas Day was where it got interesting.

A/N: I hope everyone's enjoying the holiday season! And can I just say, Summer Christmases are epic. 10 points to the Southern Hemisphere!

I'll upload part two on Christmas Day, my time. (As a side note, New Zealand gets Christmas first, time-wise. Jealous?)

Also, I mean no offense to any Australians. Or koalas. Or Barbershop Quartets. Or ninjas.