STAVE FOUR - THE SECOND OF THE THREE SPIRITS
She awoke with a start when the clock on her wall chimed that it was one a.m. again. Shakily looking up at the timepiece, she saw that she had slept for twenty-four hours again. Either there was something wrong with current time and space, or she was having a ridiculously long dream. Once again, she lay on her bed, wide-awake, watching the clock slowly advance; her trembling slowly subsiding. As she did, she considered her previous experience.
Who did that ghost think he was, telling her what she felt and what she didn't? She knew she loved The J at one time, as much as she loved her money, but the difference was that money never betrayed her, unlike that miserable feline. From her discovery of her talents in Soho, she had worked hard to reach the status she had now. It was rare when she asked her father for money, much to his delight, though the recent depletion in his factory's energy reserves had put a strain on their already distant relationship. Still, she had paid him back, with interest, proving to him that she was more than capable of rescuing her own finances without asking for help.
Though again, she wished that The J had been there. What a deficit he was turning out for himself!
Looking at the clock again, she realised that if the whole experience was going to play through, then that meant that there was another ghost coming up at the top of the hour. But if Christmas Past, who originally was Scrooge's Christmas Present, had already appeared, then who—or what—was going to be her Present? Was she going to be hauled away to see how the "peasants" lived their holidays?
Well, not if she could help it.
She got up and was about to leave—
—when she saw a piece of paper on the floor.
Normally, Beauregard kept her room spotless, so this obviously wasn't a screw-up on his part. Suddenly she remembered that in his last moments with her, the ghost tried to give her a note, and the memory of that event was suddenly sticking out in her mind, almost unwillingly. And almost unwillingly as well, she picked it up and held it to the light that was coming in through the balcony doors.
"Come now, you rich! Weep and howl, for your miseries that are coming upon you! Your riches are decayed, and your garments are eaten by moths! Your gold and silver are corroded, and their corrosion will be a witness against you and will consume your flesh like fire. You have heaped up 'treasure' in the last days. Indeed: the wages of the workers who mowed your fields—which you kept back by FRAUD—cry out; and the cries of the reapers have reached the ears of the Master of The Armies! You have lived on Earth in pleasure and luxury; you have fattened your hearts as if it were time for the slaughterhouse!"
That was enough to frighten her even further, but when she read the next phrase, her colour drained completely:
"You have condemned—you have murdered the just! He does not resist you—"
She suddenly dropped the note as if it were on fire, and backed away from it as if it were a lion.
Still pale, she knew that she had murdered The J, The M, and The J.A.M., despite the fact that all of that happened in another timeline and no one remembered it.
But now it seemed as if Someone did remember, and was now about to hold her accountable for her actions.
A sudden crackling from the fireplace made her gasp. Despite the low light, she saw fragments of soot and ash falling from the chimney. She dashed toward the door, but no sooner had she touched the knob when—
The clock struck TWO.
She froze in place to glance up at the clock. The moment she did, the fireplace lit up again, and a booming voice, well, boomed, behind her, "HO HO HO! MERRY CHRISTMAS, DAUGHTER OF JACOB MARLEY! HO HO HO!" She had heard that voice before so many times in so many Christmas specials and street corners and never gave it much thought, but this time it seemed to resonate through her body. She knew exactly who was standing behind her, and though it was quite surprising to have him visit her now, nothing could have prepared her for what she saw when she turned around.
(CLANG!)
For starters, her room suddenly seemed ten times larger than it was before. Secondly, there was a HUGE banquet table next to her bed. The food was served: many meat delicacies piping hot, many desserts glowing with sugar, many types of pastries and ice creams glistening with moisture, and many salads crisp and tossed. It was as if cooks from all over the world had come together to prepare meals for every culture known to toonkind. And, either her eyes were deceiving her, or one of the dishes served was indeed a roasted camel.
That in itself made her quite hungry, but the person who apparently brought the banquet, and what he brought the banquet with, was even more impressive, despite the fact that she knew who he was, and what his method of transport was.
Nine reindeer stood three metres (9'10") at the shoulder: eight were side by side, and one was in the lead. Their brown leather harnesses and bridles were lined with gold, and gold bells clung to them. Every hair on their fur was in perfect place, and not a single blemish was on them. Their antlers were all different, but all seemed perfect in every turn and point. Different white markings were on their foreheads, except for the lead reindeer, who had none, though his nose was so red it almost looked like a large LED. The reindeer were attached to what Dakota could only describe as a red sleigh, but it was the size of a bus. Perfectly polished and waxed, it glinted off the moonlight and firelight. On the back of the sleigh was an incredibly huge red bag; the rim lined with white fur and stitched with gold. Something inside was giving off light, though.
And on the front seat of the sleigh sat the Ghost of Christmas Present.
"SANTA CLAUS?!" blurted the humanmaid, after lifting her jaw back into place.
"If you wish to call me that," he boomed. "It took me a while to get used to that particular distortion of my original name." Then, he stepped off the sleigh, standing 3.5 metres tall (11'5"). He was wearing the traditional red suit lined with white fur, black gloves, black boots, black belt, and red hat, but a closer inspection revealed that the seams were gold lined. He wasn't overly obese, but a combination of Nordic musculature and a round abdomen made him look like a water tank. His long silvery hair curled perfectly on his shoulders, and his long beard blended with the white fur of his jacket. Though he was from the present, and no wrinkles were on his face, his blue eyes seemed ancient.
He walked to the third reindeer pair to adjust a loose harness, and as he did, Dakota asked incredulously, "Let me get this straight: you are the Ghost of Christmas Present?"
"Exactly."
"And it's Christmas already?"
"Exactly."
For the love of Bill Gates, how long had she been sleeping? "So, I guess this banquet is my present?" she asked, with slight expectation.
He turned, "Oh, no, the banquet is to share with others. After all, you couldn't possibly eat it all by yourself, now can you?"
She turned to the huge table, barely able to see the opposite end. "No, I suppose not."
The ghost noticed something in her tone of voice, "Disappointed that you actually have to share, Dee?"
The brunette smirked back at him, "Or, I could buy a huge freezer to store all of this. My family would never have to buy food until the end of the century, Santa." He turned and looked down at her, sadly. She continued, "So you are real, indeed. How is it that you became the Ghost of the Present, anyway?"
"Well, more than being a ghost or a spirit, I'm actually the general atmosphere or attitude of the times. I've changed a lot through the years, just as society has changed. As to me being real, well, in Reality, I'm simply a legend, though here in Toonity I'm quite real. Still, what you see before you is a far cry from what Nicholas of Bari was."
"Who?" She really hated being thrown off like that.
"Nicholas of Bari," he repeated, petting a reindeer's head. "Or, the original Saint Nick, if you will. Like you, he was quite wealthy, but unlike you, he chose the right father."
"Oh, please, don't start with that," she moaned, rubbing her head. "I had a lot of lip from your partner concerning that."
"But it's true, Dee. Nicholas of Bari chose to be generous, and because of that he became a legend, and here in Toonity he became, well, me. The father you chose isn't going to give you a good eternity, you know. But enough talk," he said, walking back to the sleigh. "We're wasting nightlight. Come on!"
Before Dakota could decide to follow him, the ghost picked her up from her pyjama shirt again and slumped her on the left of the front seat. "HEY!" she protested. She glared up at him, "You know, this is getting reeeeally old—" Her complaints were cut short when she saw what was in front of her.
Instead of a blank plate, the front of the sleigh was a panel filled with switches, buttons, LED's, GPS readouts, satellite weather maps, world time settings, and two long screens that scrolled with hundreds of names, with the labels "NAUGHTY" and "NICE" above them. On the "Naughty" list, the scrolling stopped, and one name began blinking.
And Dakota blinked, too, when she realised it was her own name.
The Knight Industries Two Thousand would have had his scanners turn green if it had seen the panel.
"You're reluctant to follow directions, Dee, and you know that." He sat on her right and took hold of the leather reins. "We wouldn't need to do that if you just do as you are told." He noticed that his companion could barely see above the front of the sleigh, so he commanded, "Adjust passenger seat."
"YIKES!" She jumped with a start when she felt her seat rise to give her proper visibility, though she was expecting to be ejected or something.
"Safety restraints!" Two four-point seat belt type harnesses tentacled from behind them and latched in front of their torsos, making Dakota yipe again. Before she could say anything else, the ghost leaned down to her and whispered, "We all love this part." He straightened, whipped the reins lightly, and commanded, "Ahem:
Now, Dasher!
Now, Dancer!
Now, Prancer and Vixen!
On, Comet!
On, Cupid!
On, Donner and Blitzen!" He stopped for a moment to smile at his companion.
"And ON RUDOLPH!
To the top of the porch! To the top of the wall!
Now dash away! Dash away! Dash away all!"
Each reindeer raised his/her head and perked his/her ears as his/her name was called out. When Rudolph's name was called, his nose shone with the intensity of a floodlight, though red, and the balcony doors burst open once again. As Dakota felt the sleigh lurch forward, and her insides quiver with vertigo, all she could say was "WhoooooOOOOOAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!" There was a clattering of hooves and a scraping of metal as the sleigh slid forward, but both sounds stopped when the reindeer leapt off the balcony rampart and into the snowy night.
The sleigh was airborne!
The sleigh bells jingled beautifully, as if playing a song no one else knew. The teenager looked down and saw her mansion and estate grow smaller and smaller, and now all she could do was clutch at her harness and say, "This isn't happening, this isn't happening, this isn't happening…"
But despite her mantras, it was happening, and it was happening to her. As they left the estate, however, space and time seemed to frown upon the teenager. "What? It's morning already?"
"Evening, actually. Normally I only travel at night, but in cases such as yours, I make an exception." On and on they flew over the snow-covered Acme Acres, and apparently invisibly, since no one seemed to notice an object the size of an 18-wheeler flying several hundred metres above them.
After a while, the sleigh descended on one of the less prosperous parts of town, and not at a mall, but a simple corner grocer. Despite the lack of shopping centres and large business offices, Dakota noticed that the toons were jostling all over the place, not shoving each other, but with a happy sense of urgency. The sleigh landed on the street, without anyone noticing, the two harnesses detached themselves, letting the passengers step off. The ghost then pulled off the huge red bag as well and flung it on his back. Meanwhile, Dakota saw several toons of various species walk out of the grocery store, quite happy, yet not carrying much. Then, a male brown bear and a female cougar walked in, and from the look of them, they were obviously on the lower economic levels.
They stepped inside too, with Dakota looking in shock as a 3.5 metre-tall man, and his huge red bag, easily squeezed himself through the single door. Inside, the lowly toons were paying for their groceries, when the clerk, a young hound, suddenly said, "Oh! Excuse me, but you gave me too much cash. Would you like the rest of the change, or would you like another item?"
This shocked the brunette to no end. Having plenty of experience with money, she had clearly seen the amount of money given, and the total amount to pay. "What's that idiot doing?" she blurted. "Is he giving money to them for FREE?"
"He's giving of himself to others, because he knows it is in his power to do so."
"It's also in his power to NOT lose profit! What a waste?"
"A waste?" asked the ghost. He reached into his bag, and pulled out—not a present—but a handful of gold dust.
"GOLD!" screamed the teenager, lunging for the bag.
(SMASH!)
Despite his size, the ghost easily dodged her tackle and let her smash her face on the wall. As gold sparkles swirled above her and she peeled herself off, he explained, "This is more than gold, Dee. These are eternal riches—the money and gold you know are strictly temporary. When someone gives—out of love—to someone who cannot pay back, that goes to their eternal account. They receive interest here AND compound interest when they reach the end of their journey, with returns of 3,000, 6,000, and 10,000 per cent. In many cases, including this one, there are those much richer than you." He proceeded to sprinkle both giver and receiver, watched by the scowling teenager.
They walked out of the store, and as they prepared to leave, she asked, "So, all those corporations with huge charity budgets, they are richer than me as well?"
"Not necessarily. The conditions are to give out of love, not pity. There are those who give only to make themselves, and their businesses, look good to everyone: they only give to boost their Public Image and Public Relations, that is, they buy their 'generous image and reputation'. But deep within them, they are just as selfish and miserable and proud and ill willed and hateful and envious—and murderous—" she shivered, "—like you. They'd be better off not giving than giving to white-wash their selfishness."
That was quite an oxymoron for Dakota; she wasn't sure she understood. And she wasn't sure she wanted to understand.
The sleigh took off, and they went on their way. After a few minutes of travelling, they stopped in front of a large Tudor-style house. Its upper stories were white with a dark brown trim, and its first story was of red brick. Its arched doors and windows gave it a certain "cottage" feel, but its three stories made it one of the largest houses around. They stepped inside, walked past the living room, entered what appeared to be an elevator, and the ghost pressed the "basement" button. Once there, they stepped out and walked down a long hall. Dakota didn't know where they were or who lived here, but then they walked past a laundry room and stepped into what appeared to be a recording studio. This time, she didn't pay attention to the ghost somehow fitting himself in passages so narrow for him, bag and all, because she recognised the occupants.
"All right, what's the big idea here?" she demanded of him. "Why the (CENSORED) do I need to see my enemies, ESPECIALLY that black panther?!" She was also feeling quite self-conscious being clad in only her pyjamas, but then she remembered that they could neither see, hear, smell, nor touch her.
"Just listen. You'll be very surprised."
Indeed, inside the room were Nolan, Bekki, The J, Anni, and A.J., tuning up their instruments. And Dakota was scowling at every one of them. She wasn't the only one who wasn't calm, however.
"All right, what the (CENSORED) are we going to CALL this (CENSORED) band anyway?" asked the orange doe, tuning her bass.
"Well we certainly can't call it the (CENSORED) Band. Unless we only wished to play rough clubs," chuckled her boyfriend, and host, tuning his guitar.
"Sounds like fun," she smirked at him.
Anni stared at her sister from over the drums, "Wow, one whole sentence without a bleep, Bekki! It must be a record for you!"
"Yeah! It looks like Nolan is rubbing off on you, right Bekki!" added Anni's jaguar boyfriend, preparing some sheet music.
The older doe ground her teeth seductively at her boyfriend and winked at him. "(CENSORED) yeah!" Pause, "Hee hee, just not in all the (CENSORED) ways I'd want." That comment made Nolan blush full-body, and A.J. laughed at his cousin's reaction.
Turning on his keyboard, he turned to the band, "We can't call ourselves the Bloomin' Loonies, either. Our parents took that name already. We need something to identify our generation."
"Well, how about the Loonin' Bloomies?" suggested the jaguar.
The cat-rat host shook his head, "Nah, it still sounds too much like Dad's band, and it's also vaguely naughty."
"Naughty?" questioned the Mexican-American, his tail curling in curiosity.
"Um, yeah. 'Bloomies' could be translated as 'bloomers', don't you know?"
"I still don't get it."
The fox-rabbit explained, "Well 'bloomers' were a type of ladies underwear that took the place of petticoats, back in the day. And it's used as an alternate term for lingerie, so—"
"All right! All right!" The carnivore's fur turned slightly purple as he blushed, raising his paws to halt the explanation. The others laughed at how easily he was embarrassed, but stopped laughing when someone else entered.
It was a familiar green buck, his ears low behind him while he dragged his foot-paws and ground his teeth VERY loudly, so loud that the others thought he was going to break off an incisor. Nolan blinked in surprise, startled at his friend's condition. "Tex, m'lad, what happened to you?" he asked, padding to him. "You look like the carrot crop's been cancelled and all the eggs have been spoilt." Bekki turned to him, nearly saying "sheesh" at a typical reaction of a son of a rat raised by rabbits and a vegetarian cat who loved egg salad.
Her brother replied quietly, "It's—it's over."
"Over?" asked the feline-rodent.
"Oi'm clueless, here," added his cousin.
Bekki then took a wild guess, "You finally broke it off with that little (CENSORED)?"
A very weak "Yes" was all her brother could say, barely looking up at her.
"(CENSORED), I had the feeling something suddenly (CENSORED) stopped today—so you—you finally let Dakota go?"
A.J. turned to his cousin, "From what Oi've heard, that would have to be pretty monumental. She had to have stooped pretty low for him to do it."
"Oi'll say. Even after that time travel debacle, he still stuck by her. Now, though," he turned to the heartbroken buck, "Tex, m'lad, what did she do?"
He shuddered for a moment, ground his teeth in grief, and explained. "You all know the story of 'A Christmas Carol', right?"
"Of course," replied the felid-murid. "Bit of a tradition for Mum and Dad to read it to us at Christmas time. Sometimes Aunt Miranda and Uncle Leo get into the act and do parts."
"Oi hear Talleen's doing Tiny Tim this year," added the canid-leporid.
The older rabbit looked blankly at all of them, then he resumed his teeth grinding. "Well—with what Dee did today—she—she made Scrooge look like Mother Teresa."
The band stood still at that, while Dakota just crossed her arms. "And it took years to perfect that," she commented, heard only by herself and the ghost.
"Oi take it this is the before-visitation Scrooge, and not the after—man, how greedy can she get?" asked A.J.
"Or cold, for that matter," added his cousin.
The green buck continued, now with bloodshot eyes, "It wasn't just greed: it was her hatred for us all, and most of all to you, J." The carnivore's tail stiffened at that. "She shut herself off from her uncle as well, despite his good nature." There was also the issue of the donation, but Tex didn't dare mention that in front of Nolan and A.J. "And—and—she called Christmas something that would even make Bekki blush."
"Now THAT is a FEAT," quipped Nolan.
"HEY!"
The canine-lagomorph padded up, "From the sound of it, you're better off without her, Tex. She'll hoist her own petard, eventually."
"Aye, bad ones like her always come to a bad end. You're well away, old sport."
Tex looked at the two hybrid cousins and replied, voice cracking, "But that's not what I wanted! I wanted her to see the Light! I wanted her to be set free! I don't want her to end up in anything terrible!" He broke down in sobs now, and fell on the floor, "I—just—wanted her—to turn to the Light—because I—love—her—so much—" His body shook with every sob, his head under his arms in inexplicable grief.
The brunette just watched in shock as the buck crumbled in front of her.
"Tex is the only toon on this planet who loves you like that, Dakota, despite what you are, how much money you have, and who your father is," boomed the apparition.
She was about to reply to that when the youngest doe stomped toward her brother, ears stiff behind her, and grunted, "You pathetic WIMP! I TOLD you that loving Dakota would only bring you to THIS! Look at all it took to FINALLY make you let go!"
Her boyfriend pulled her back and added, though slightly more softly, "Anni's right, Tex. It only took one request to do fraud to make me let go of her. You were just harming yourself! You didn't have to go through all of this in order to let her go!"
"It wasn't her curse that made me let go," sniffed the downed buck.
"Huh?" asked his blue sister.
"I—I finally confronted her with all she had done. I gave her the chance to make amends and turn to the Light. I—gave her my ultimatum."
"And she (CENSORED) it, I take it?"
Dakota chuckled at Bekki's method of describing her actions.
He looked up. "Y-yes. When I left her estate, I received a Word that she was no longer my responsibility."
Double take. "His WHAT?" blurted the humanmaid to the ghost.
He explained, "In other words, you severed your only lifeline, Dee. That's another reason why you needed this experience."
Tex's head fell again. "But—it's—just—so—hard—to let go—!" His muffled cries filled the room for a moment.
The elder hybrid kneeled and gently gripped his friend's shoulder, "The phrase is: 'where there's life there's hope.' Other than that, Oi don't really know what to say. The sad thing is that—well—love hurts sometimes. She may see the error of her ways, and she may not. Only time will tell, Oi suppose. If she chooses the Light, she'll come to you, Tex."
"This from somebody in love with someone ten years his senior."
"Hey, Oi can be sensitive!" he protested, turning to his cousin. "Anyway, Roberta did let me down easy. Oi suppose—Tex probably tried to do the same for Dakota—and she wouldn't allow it. Very possessive, that one, or so Oi've heard." There were more muffled sobs from the buck after that. The rest didn't know what else to do or say, so they just sat next to him, holding his paws, a paw on a shoulder on his back or head, just letting him know that they were there for him.
After a while, Tex sat up, spent. The carnivore-rodent then had an idea, "Well, hopefully now, Tex can stand to hear this as-yet unnamed band rehearse a bit more before Bekki and Anni help him home, ay wot? Moight take his mind off troubles for a wee bit. Won't help, long term, Oi know, but for right now—?"
The green lagomorph looked at his friends again and sighed, "I—I guess I could use whatever help you can give. Go ahead, guys. I'm listening." He turned to the band as A.J. padded to the keyboard, and began playing the piano introduction to Rufus Wainwright's version of "Hallelujah". Then, he stopped and asked, "Oi don't suppose you'd want to sing, would you? Maybe vent a little?"
"I—I guess. I feel so empty now, maybe this will help," replied Tex as he stood.
"Try this."
As Tex examined the sheet music The J handed to him, Dakota just chuckled, "Heh. Typical male reaction to vent feelings, especially for someone with ART for a hobby: Either break out into a song or write a poem. As IF I would ever fall for someone like Tex!"
The ghost, on his part, just looked sadly at her, and then sprinkled gold dust all over the band members, but even more on the black feline and the green lagomorph.
Tex took the music, read a bit, and nodded to the carnivore-lagomorph, cueing him to begin. When the introduction finished, he began:
"I've heard there was a secret chord
That David played, and it pleased the Lord." Dakota paled.
"But you don't really care for music, do you?" Was he looking at HER?
"It goes like this:
The fourth, the fifth,
The minor fall, the major lift.
The baffled king composing 'Hallelujah'." The ghost grinned in silent agreement.
"Hallelujah,
Hallelujah,
Hallelujah,
Halleluuuuuuuujaaah." For some reason, that word made Dakota's insides cringe.
"Your faith was strong but you needed proof.
You saw her bathing on the roof." Though he never peeked on Dakota, actually.
"Her beauty in the moonlight overthrew you." Moonlight? Did Tex think she was beautiful?
"She tied you to a kitchen chair,
She broke your throne! She cut your hair!
And from your lips she drew the Hallelujah—" Tex was crying again, the metaphors clearly portraying what he felt Dakota had done to him.
"Hallelujah,
Hallelujah,
Hallelujah,
Halleluuuuuuuujaaah."
"Maybe I have been here before.
I know this room; I've walked this floor.
I used to live alone before I knew you." Despite living in a large warren.
"I've seen your flag on the marble arch.
Love is not a victory march!
It's a cold and it's a broken Hallelujah!" For some reason, it seemed as if Tex was singing directly to her, not just himself.
"Hallelujah,
Hallelujah,
Hallelujah,
Halleluuuuuuuujaaah."
"There was a time you'd let me know
What's real and going on below.
But now you never show it to me, do you?" True. She trusted him with her evil plans, but those times were gone now.
"And remember when I moved (with) you?
The holy dark was moving too!
And every breath we drew was Hallelujah!" He wanted to be with her, despite her evil, he needed her.
"Hallelujah,
Hallelujah,
Hallelujah,
Halleluuuuuuuujaaah." And perhaps, Dakota was beginning to see what he really felt for her.
"(I know) there's a God above,
And all I ever learned from love
Was how to shoot at someone who outdrew you." Tex glared at J now, making him lower his ears.
"And it's not a cry you can hear at night,
It's not somebody who's seen the Light!
It's a cold and it's a broken Hallelujah!" The cry of someone lost, perchance, forever.
"Hallelujah,
Hallelujah,
Hallelujah,
Hallelujah,
Hallelujah,
Hallelujah,
Hallelujah,
Halleluuuuuuuujaaah."
There was no clapping, no cheering, just a lonely buck weeping for a lost soul. The ghost took hold of Dakota and said, "Come. Let's find a livelier place." They left the basement and flew away, not without the ghost first sprinkling the whole house with gold. As they flew off, he commented, "You know, this bag should not be full. I should be able to empty it every single Christmas."
"And why don't you? I could put the gold to good use," she grinned greedily.
"I only give to those who give out of love. Many places have not seen so much as a speck of this gold in centuries. In fact, your mansion has not received one grain since it was built!" She looked at him defensively, but he added, "That can be changed, but it is not in my power to change it. It's a decision you or your father must make." The teenager didn't reply to that, so she just crossed her arms and huffed to herself. And when they landed, she huffed even more.
"Oh, no, not Uncle Duncan's house!"
"Oh yes. Come, there are things you must see and hear!" They stepped off the sleigh and entered a large two-story cream-coloured house. There were Christmas Carols playing in the stereo, but low enough to avoid being annoying. Inside, Dakota saw that the living room was filled with relatives she had not seen since she returned from England, all clad in cozy sweaters and colourful slacks. There was her Uncle Duncan and his Asian wife, and his young son and two younger daughters, all with black hair; her Aunt Amanda (her purple hair long gone and replaced with the original red) and her balding Caucasian husband, their two tall teenage sons and three tall teenage daughters, all with red hair; her youngest uncle—with a complete set of red hair—and his brunette fiancée; her grandparents, Mac and Emily, and even her mother was there!
"What's Mom doing here?"
"Her brother invited her, remember? Naturally, he invited your dad as well, but he had work to do, as you."
The teenager said nothing, but kept looking at the family. They were all in the living room sitting on the couch, chairs, and floor, looking at one of Duncan's daughters, who was standing next to a large whiteboard on a tripod. Behind her was a tall Christmas tree, filled with ornaments and apparently planted on presents.
Dakota's cousin read a small card, pressed a button on a stopwatch, and began drawing.
"Tree!"
"Smoke!"
"Cloud!"
"Monster!"
"Blob!"
"The Creature From The Black Lagoon!"
"A red tide!"
"Godzilla?"
On and on they guessed, until a buzz from the stopwatch stopped them, and finally the "artist" declared, "No! It's Cousin Dee!"
That response brought laughs from everyone, including Elmyra, but a snarl and clenched fists from Dakota, "WHAT?"
No one could hear her, of course, but much to her surprise, Duncan stepped up in her defence. "Now stop that! Christmas isn't a time for being mean!"
One of Amanda's sons replied, "Aw, come on, Uncle Duncan. You know Dee doesn't care to know what happens here or what we say about her!"
"Maybe, but she's still your cousin. You should be concerned that she doesn't want any part of this, or any of us. That only shows that there is something definitely wrong that needs correcting."
Dakota told the ghost, "Oh, please. As IF I'd want any part of this. I'm sure that the moment I step into this house every single one of them will be asking me for money!"
The "artist" sat down, "Yeah, right. She thinks that the moment she steps into this house every single one of us will be asking her for money."
Dakota did a double take at her cousin.
"Yeah," added Amanda's youngest daughter. "It's not as if we're homeless that we'd all be begging her for money."
The "artist's" sister added, "Well, if she were here, I wouldn't ask her for a dime. And I know she wouldn't give it if I did ask!"
Duncan's son turned to his father and asked, "Dad, why doesn't Cousin Dee like us? Was it something we did, or does she just not want to have fun?"
The cousin in question was about to reply with something unspeakably rude, but was interrupted by her own mother. "Well, my best guess is that she just takes after her father. I was hoping that she wouldn't be every single way like him, but that's the choice she made."
"(CENSORED)!" blurted the observer. "Even my own mother's against me!"
"Against?" questioned the ghost. "I'd say more like 'concerned', Dee. Concerned about you—because you're family."
Meanwhile, Duncan sighed and turned to his sister, "Well, that's a very sad choice she made. She's just cheating herself out of good family fun. And, since I suppose she's not coming tonight, I think it's safe—and sad—for me to assume that she has missed good family fun for another year, AND, she has cheated herself out of another present."
"Present?" asked Dakota. She watched as her uncle stood and walked to the Christmas tree. He picked up a red-wrapped present, and took it to a closet. When he opened it, Dakota leaned a bit closer and saw that the closet was full of presents of many sizes.
She heard another cousin ask, "Dad, why don't you just send the presents to her?"
"Because," he replied, shutting the closet and locking it, "she knows her presents are here. All she has to do to receive them is come here and ask for them. When she does, I'll be more than happy to give her all the stuff she's missed over the years."
The greedy teenager could not believe her ears. The ghost stood behind her, "You have caused much unnecessary grief in these times of joy, Dee."
Something swelled up within her that caused her to grunt, "Maybe they wouldn't HAVE grief if they'd stop asking me to come here! And I don't NEED their pity OR their pathetic gifts!" Her whole body stiffened with anger.
The ghost walked past her, "I wasn't just talking about them, Dee." He proceeded to give generous sprinklings of gold all over the remaining presents, on the family members, and the dinner that was on the table. Glancing sadly at his charge, he also threw a few sprinkles at the closet. Dakota was about to ask him just how the sprinkles managed to float through the door, but the ghost was already on his way out, so she reluctantly followed.
The next trip took them outside the city and into Acme Forest. When the sleigh landed, an incredible repulsion nearly made Dakota lurch her dinner. "RABBITS!" she yelped, looking at the tree stump with a mailbox beside it.
"Oh, yes, Dee. Rabbits, and plenty of them."
Grumbling, she stepped off the sleigh and followed the ghost down the hole. Inside, there were rabbits of every size and colour combination known to toonkind, and so many that she didn't bother counting. "Ack! Is the entire rabbit population here?"
"They're all family, one way or another."
This she verified when she saw none other than her school principal: Bugs Bunny. Next to him was his wife, Honey Bunny. She saw Buster and Babs, and their children, The Fourteen, scattered about. There were other adult rabbits around, apparently part of Babs' original warren, and their kits as well. They were having fun talking and jumping around, some were sitting in front of Bugs to hear crazy tales, and some were adding their own decorations to the Christmas tree. Carefully, the ghost manoeuvred around the lagomorphs, and walked down a long hall, followed by Dakota. Both came to a door, and stepped inside, finding one buck lying face down on his bed, ears to his sides, and all alone.
"Tex?" asked the humanmaid.
He didn't hear her, of course, but she did hear what he was saying, despite it being muffled, and filled with light sobs and very loud tooth grinding: "Oh dear God—I know that I've done what You said and I let Dee go—but—it's just so painful—especially at this time of the year—" Dakota was shocked once more. "—she has made her choice and moved on—but—I only ask—that You'd have mercy on her—You know where she came from—how she was raised—and who her parents are—oh God—if it's possible—don't take into account—all she's done against us—and J—"
(CLANG!)
The brunette's jaw hit the ground one more time.
"—and please—just take away all the love I still have for her—all of this is just—just—consuming me—"
"Looks like he's taking the order of 'love your enemies' to its fullest dimension, don't you think?" asked the giant behind the humanmaid.
Before she could put her jaw back in place and reply, a swift kick suddenly burst open the door, causing Dakota to jump and nearly hit her head on the roof. "Are you still here bawling for that would-be-murderer?!" grunted Anni, stomping over to the bed, ears stiff behind her again. "Get over it already!"
Her brother didn't bother to look up. "You don't know how I feel right now, Barbara!" The doe grunted and stomped in place. "J would NEVER turn evil, reject you, or try to kill ANYONE! Your heart wouldn't be broken like this!"
She just flipped him over, grabbed him by his shirt, pulled him close, and grunted, "Well, yours is, bro, and I honestly doubt that it's my fault that you're paying the consequences despite ALL THE WARNINGS I gave you!" She pulled her left fist back, "Maybe I should just give a good POUND—"
"BARBARA ANNE."
Sheepishly, the young doe released her brother, patted down his shirt, and turned to face her mother at the door, giving her an award-winning grin. "Barbara Anne, what have I told you about fighting your brothers?"
"(Sigh) No fighting outside the ring."
As this exchange was happening, Dakota saw Buster enter and pad to the bed, where he sat next to his son. "Tex?"
"(sniff) Hi, dad."
The blue buck put his arm around his offspring, "Tex, I know that what happened with Dakota is horribly devastating for you, and you're sort of—well—mourning for her now, but please understand that it's Christmas right now, and all your family is here. Do you think that maybe you can hold the tears, just for tonight, and have some fun? And if you need to, tomorrow your mother and I will cry with you."
"I—I don't know—"
Babs padded up, "Please, son. Nolan, A.J. and The J are here—"
"J IS HERE!" squealed the doe, (WARP!) warping out of the room in that instant.
Everyone looked at the door for a moment, then Babs continued, "—and they want to have fun with you and all your brothers and sisters. Could you do this little sacrifice for them, perhaps, as your Christmas present for them?"
The young buck looked at his parents and sighed, "O—okay. I'll try to raise my ears, too." He stood and slowly padded out, his ears undecided as to whether stay up or down. When they left, Dakota and the ghost followed.
Back in the living room, the humanmaid looked up and saw the two hybrid cousins and the black panther standing near the entry ladder in their winter gear, with Anni standing very close to her boyfriend. And despite all the noise, she clearly heard A.J. singing, "…his party, and he'll cry if he wants to, cry if he wants—" His interpretation was cut short by The J giving him a very carnivorous glare. "Sorry," he said subdued.
The onça cub then turned to his girlfriend, "Thanks for the invite, Anni! But I can't stay long. My uncles and aunts are warping over from Mexico and my dad will be bringing them to the lair in a bit."
"Hey, no problem! You can stay here for a bit, and then I can go over to your lair and see all your relatives again!"
"Sounds to me like you're just going to challenge Cousin E.M.M.Y. to the bazillionth game of chess!"
"Hey, it just MIGHT be the one where I finally beat her! Besides, I would like to see more toons today than just several hundred bunnies."
The brunette saw this exchange with disgust. "Ugh, more furry toons. As if this place didn't have enough with all these rabbits!" The ghost seemed to ignore her, as he stepped near the entrance.
Meanwhile, A.J.'s face twisted into a grimace as a grey, brown, and purple does approached: Alexi, June, and Hunni; their eyes glinting with romance. He turned to Bekki and gave her his most carnivorous Stare of Doom as he could muster. "Thanks for inviting me to your party, Bekki," he growled. The three does were approaching fast, when suddenly a white LED lit above him, and he barked, "Hey, kids! Let's go outside and make an ARMY of snowmen!"
"YEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" What followed Dakota could only describe as a multi-coloured rabbit stampede. As the lagomorphs exited, the ghost held up his bag so that gold dust fell on every single rabbit. When the dust cleared, a thoroughly flattened A.J. lay near the hole of the Bunny Burrow.
Smugly, the humanmaid walked over to the flattened rabbit-fox and boasted, "Looks like I'm not the only one whose plans backfire, FREAK."
The ghost, meanwhile, went on to put gold dust on the adult rabbits that remained, on the Christmas tree and the presents under it, and on the banquet table. While the jaguar and rat-cat helped their friend return to his normal shape, the spirit said, "Tex has suffered greatly because of you, but he still has family and friends to help him with his sufferings. He will enjoy this party, thanks to everyone here. Unfortunately, he isn't the only one who's suffering because of you, if not directly, then indirectly."
"What do you mean 'indirectly'?"
At this point, a cell phone rang. The carnivore-lagomorph had just popped back into his original shape when he realised whose phone it was. "Hello?" Dakota thought she could hear the caller, but she couldn't distinguish what was being said. "Aye, dad, Oi'm here at the Bunny's—huh? Oh—wait, is she all right?" His friends stood still as the atmosphere turned uncharacteristically serious. "Oh—um, no, dad—! Oi'll be there too. Same hospital, roight—?—Okay—okay—yeah, Oi'll be right there—right—okay, dad. Oi love you. See you in a bit." A.J. hung up, and his cousin was about to ask him what was happening, but the rabbit-fox beat him to it. "Something happened to Aunt Miranda in the hospital. Uncle Leo and the rest of the family are getting very worried now." A.J. re-did his red winter jacket and scarf, "Dad called to let us know they'll spend the night with her again, but Oi think it's best if we were there as well, maybe not for the night, but—"
"Well, then, what are we waiting for? Let's get out of here!" Nolan had picked up enough of the urgency of the matter to forget the present party and express concern about his relatives, and climbed up the ladder.
"Do you guys need anything?" asked J, also quite worried now.
Both cousins looked at him, and then A.J. looked at him in the eye. "Prayer, my friend. Lots and LOTS of prayer," and he too scrambled up the ladder.
As the teenagers left the burrow, the ghost told Dakota. "You'll be surprised just how far-reaching your actions can be, Dee." She, naturally, said nothing, as if a freak family she had no relations with could in some way be affected by her actions. They, too, left the burrow and flew off, this time leaving the forest and going back into the city. The humanmaid had a slight hunch of where their next stop would be, and her suspicions were confirmed when she saw the huge building in front of her.
Acme Acres General Medical Centre
They landed on the roof, near the rampart so as not to obstruct the heliport, and took an elevator to the maternity ward. They walked several hallways, again, ignored by the patients and staff, and entered a room. Inside, sitting up on the bed, was a brown mink with brown headfur, wearing a hospital gown, looking very worried, and occasionally wincing in pain. Sitting on her left, next to the glucose bag, was her husband, a tall brown rabbit with blonde headfur, wearing a green and red sweater with black pants. After her experience in the burrow, naturally, Dakota noticed something was amiss. "Hah! Some family! Where are THEIR relatives to help them now?" she scoffed, hands on her hips.
"In the waiting room, of course," whispered the ghost, making her wince with defeat.
The mink held the rabbit's paw, "Leo—why is the doctor taking so long?"
"Shhhhh, my darlin'." More British accents. "The doc is probably just checking his golf scorecard. There's nothing to worry about!"
"Th-then why are your ears down?"
The teenager chuckled. "Heh, some support HE'S being! She should have stuck to her own species!"
Here, a tall meerkat in a white lab coat entered the room. The couple looked at him expectantly, so he held up his clipboard and began, "Well, Mrs. Carrotte, I got the results here, and they don't look very promising." The couple's spirits sank. "I was expecting some complications due to your species difference, but I didn't expect them so soon."
"B-but what about the baby?" blurted the mink lady. "Is the baby all right?"
The meerkat sighed. "No. But I wouldn't worry that much. The cat-scans revealed that she's a fighter, and a stubborn one at that. She wants to live, so I'm sure she will. Now, we managed to stabilise your condition, but we'll have to keep you under observation to make sure that you and the baby remain stable, and are able to reach at least your seventh month. However, you might want to be prepared in case we need to speed things up and schedule a Cæsarean."
"CÆSAREAN?" chorused the parents.
Dakota just shook her head at how irrelevant this all seemed to her.
"It's a standard procedure," he replied with professional detachment. "However, there is another procedure that can be done in your case that won't require something so traumatic. I'll go back to my office and get all the data you need—but I do have to warn you that it's barely in its initial research. Then again, chances are that you just might fit the profile needed to carry it through. If you are, then I'll say that my prognosis for a full recovery are—quite high."
The doctor went to retrieve the information, while Lionel shot his ears up and beamed, "See? Everything is working out! There's no need to worry! And even if we can't try something new, Cæsareans aren't that big a deal!"
Miranda couldn't calm down, for some reason. "Oh—oh Leo!" she sobbed. "I just wanted everything to be perfect for us and the baby! I just wanted to go through a normal pregnancy! Why—why is this happening?"
Her husband was speechless for a moment, but then he brushed back some of his wife's headfur from her face, "Luv, maybe—maybe there are couples worse off than we are—and—and maybe if we go through with this, the research will be completed, and they will be able to see their babies grow healthy, like ours will. And you heard the doc: our baby is a fighter! Took after both of our families, ey wot?!" He kissed her forehead.
She huffed with exhaustion, and suddenly opened her eyes wide and put a paw on her abdomen. "Whoa!" she looked at the bulge under the sheets and said, "Aw, baby. I'm so sorry that you're having your first fight so early in life. But you have to be strong, baby!" she sniffed. "Mommy will be strong, and Daddy will be strong! And come next spring, you'll see what a beautiful world we have here in Acme Acres!"
"Pathetic mink," gagged the humanmaid, arms crossed. "NOTHING is worth that much trouble, OR a hospital expense, geez! If they knew what was good for them, they'd just end this whole ordeal right now!"
The ghost boomed, "If everyone thought like that, Dee, then YOU wouldn't be here causing trouble!" The teenager did a double take at him. "Your mother had a pregnancy MUCH worse than Miranda's. Despite your father's objections, she carried you to FULL TERM. And she didn't do it because she was an idiot. She was in pain for ten months, Dee, and at any moment of her choosing she could have ended it all."
The Daughter said nothing at that piece of information so suddenly revealed. She just slowly turned, and looked at the pained couple in front of her. After a while, she asked, "So, the baby dies, then?"
"'If these shadows remain unchanged'," he proclaimed solemnly, "I see a new nursery, new baby furniture, new baby clothes, and new baby toys, all new—" Dakota sighed in relief, "—and unused, carefully preserved, yet gathering dust. If these shadows remain unaltered in the Future, the baby will die." Dakota gasped slightly. "But," added the ghost, business-like, "Perhaps you're right. 'Why don't they let evolution take its course and eliminate that freak before it's born, geez'!" She whirled at him, as if she had just been slapped in the face. Then, with a sternness never seen on someone so jovial, he leaned down to her face and scolded, "Child! 'If a child you be in heart, not adamant, forbear that wicked cant until you have discovered WHO the Freaks are, WHAT they are, and WHERE they are. Will YOU decide what toons shall live, and what toons shall die? It may be that in the sight of Heaven, you are more WORTHLESS and LESS FIT TO LIVE than millions like this couple's baby! Oh God! To hear the insect on the leaf pronouncing on the too much life among his hungry brothers in the dust!'"
Something tore at Dakota, something she had never felt before.
Remorse.
Conviction.
Pain.
Pity.
Repentance?
NO! She fought it with all her logic, and shot back with furious fists, "NO! I never told them to marry! I didn't marry them! I never told them to get pregnant! THEY knew they were a mixed couple! THEY knew the risks! THEY made the decision! They're not my employees! Why should I be held responsible for that freak's life?!" She stood back and hollered at the ceiling, "I AM NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR THEM! I AM NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR THAT FREAK! I DISALLOW ANY RESPONSIBILITY FOR WHAT MAY HAPPEN TO THEM! THEY ARE RESPONSIBLE, NOT ME!" She stomped toward him and pointed to his face, "Don't you try to pull a Bob Cratchit—!"
Much to her shock, the ghost suddenly clamped his right hand around her jaw, sealing her mouth and effectively shutting her up. Her eyes widened in fright, and her terror skyrocketed as he lifted her off the floor to bring her horrified face to his eye level.
"Rest for a bit, luv. Oi'll go outside and tell the rest of the gang about this. We'll need all the prayer we can get!" Lionel stood and left.
The ghost snarled. "Do NOT sully Bob Cratchit's name by pronouncing it with your unclean lips! I'll have you know that Bob Cratchit is one of the most respected saints in Heaven, and he's considered a HERO, him and ALL his family!"
With that, he released the girl, and she dropped unsteadily to her feet, reeling from the sudden display of righteous ire and freakish physical strength.
It took a few moments for her to recover, massaging her jaw gently, gasping and taking deep breaths. When her speech powers returned, she asked rather nervously, "A…a hero? Enduring a miser and barely making a living with a wife and a bunch of kids on minimum wage…and he's a hero?"
The spirit also calmed down and explained, "Yes, Dee. A hero. He did indeed endure five years of minimum wage with a wife and six children. And though he never actually told Scrooge anything about his meagre situation, it was what Scrooge saw that started him on the road to repentance. And, I'll have you know…" he leaned down to her face, "…that you don't know what Bob Cratchit's life was before he worked for Scrooge, nor the ordeals he and his family went through, and yet, in all their trials and tribulations, they shone with the Spirit of Christmas every year, all year long. And even if Tiny Tim had died, they would have remained strong." He straightened again, and crossed his arms, glaring at Dakota. "You aren't worthy to have an employee like Bob Cratchit! Hah, you aren't worthy to have an employee like TEX, either! And if Bob Cratchit had worked for you, he would have frozen to death before his first Christmas with you! And as for this couple and their unborn child, Dee, you know perfectly well why you're responsible, and why you will be held responsible. You did a lot of medical research to prepare yourself for your time trips, AND to prepare the way for the children you hoped to have with The J. If you submit your research to this hospital, you will save the baby's life." She whirled away from him, arms crossed. Tenderness returned to the ghost, and he spoke softly to her, "Dee, you have the power to save not only this life, but millions of others, and not just furries, but humans as well. All the credit would go to you, not the doctors, nor the hospital. So, will you change the shadows of the future, so that others of my race may find the baby here?" She still said nothing. "Or must everyone who isn't productive die? Will you continue to do the works of your father, and prove that you are indeed Jacob Marley's Daughter?"
She whirled and pointed to his face. "DON'T—YOU—CALL—ME—THAT—AGAIN!"
"You are just proving to everyone who you really are, and whose path you walk. Now, come! You may think that you have a huge net worth, but you must now see just how much you have devalued your own life—and to a DANGEROUSLY low point, I might add!" With that, he held her by her pyjama shirt, and stopped for a moment to sprinkle gold on Miranda and her baby. Then he dragged her outside, despite her protests, and took her to the waiting room, where he proceeded to sprinkle gold on Lionel, Nigel, RuBarb, Lizbeth, Adam, Lillian, Rupert, Lola, Viktor, Amanda, A.J., Nolan, Talleen, and all of Miranda's and Lionel's relatives. He then dragged her back to the roof, despite her protests again, threw her up on the sleigh, and took off again.
This time, they left the city, and flew south at an incredible speed. As they were flying, the ghost pressed a few buttons on the console, and a narrow piece of paper emerged from the bottom of one screen. "If you think you can escape being held responsible for the baby, then you should read another segment of The Book that you missed."
He gave her the tiny printout, which she snatched and read:
"Whoever knows how to do good, and doesn't do it, to him it is wrongdoing—"
Again, Dakota threw away the note as if it was fire, and with all the wind that was blowing, it was immediately lost. For a while, she said nothing, perhaps trying to convince herself that her research couldn't possibly have anything that could save anyone's life, much less a rabbit-mink hybrid. Some time later, she saw that they were still travelling south. "So where are we going now?"
"We're going to see how your actions nearly ended your own life, Dee."
Confusion crept on her once again, "Ended?" she turned to him. "Was the time machine about to explode or something?"
The ghost whipped the reins, giving the sleigh another kick of speed. "Oh, no. The time machine worked fine every time. We're going to see something else." Dakota did a double take when they appeared to be flying over a huge body of water. "Now, I am the ghost of Christmas Present, but in your particular case, I will need to make an exception and travel to a point in time in the Past."
"The Past? Why?"
"Because of all the time travelling you did, Dee. I'm sure you remember a particular January morning you decided to visit?"
Fear slowly crept on the humanmaid again, as she remembered her actions, in fact, her last time trip. "Uh—Santa—n—nothing happened to me in that last trip—unless those stupid rabbits did almost mess everything up and we were all nearly sent to oblivion?"
They were flying over land again, zooming over tall mountains. "No. Your position in the time machine guaranteed your own safety, even though Calamity's transporter caused you to be sidetracked. Nolan, Anni, and Tex put themselves in danger trying to stop you. And yes, they did nearly get blown to oblivion, but that is not the place where you were nearly cut off, Dee."
On and on they flew, now over a plateau, and a heavily populated area. They slowed down, and landed on a particular street in a particular neighbourhood. Familiarity hit the brunette like a train. "Wh—huh?" she blurted, looking everywhere, and recognising everything, and everyone. "This is The J.A.M.'s old neighbourhood! What are we doing here? I was never in any danger here!"
"That is what you think, Child."
The scene played out in front of them, and Dakota identified herself hiding behind the hedge, while The J.A.M. was on his brother's tricycle, and The R.I.C.K. was standing behind him, both of their backs toward the Caucasian behind the hedge.
"Mewr growl gr gr yowl hiss growl?!" repeated the firstborn.
"Yowl-yowl growl-growl yowl yowl!" mocked the thirdborn. Enraged, the elder cub's fur turned red, just as the younger cub wheeled the tricycle around and began pedalling away.
The R.I.C.K. scanned the ground for a moment and snatched the first weapon he saw.
Both Dakota Dees leaned closer.
(WHACK!)
It was here that the Dakota on the sleigh noticed something was amiss. The "fishing hook" didn't pierce the cub's left eye, but instead, just made a gash near the corner. Naturally, that didn't stop him from giving a gut-wrenching yowl, making his older brother stand back in shock and turn pale with fright.
The dripping branch fell from his paw.
(UNWARPUNWARP!)
Seconds later, two adult jaguars clad in brown bathrobes, and one with long headfur and apparently pregnant, suddenly appeared outside the house.
"GASP!"
Now it was the mother's turn to pale and flatten her ears when she saw the damage. She quickly exchanged Feline words with the father and then (WARP!) commanded The R.I.C.K. something. The cub hastily ran to the orange car, opened the passenger door, and held it open while the mother carefully picked up the injured one. The father was no longer there, but then he suddenly re-emerged from the front door holding two younger cubs, one male and one female, while a slightly older female cub padded out by herself. He then locked the door and stuffed the cubs into the car, and sped off.
The Dakota at the hedge watched with scrutiny the entire scene, and emerged from her spot with her hands on her hips, and with the most gruesomely smug expression on her face.
Smiling.
And with her job well done, she turned and walked away.
The pyjama-clad Dakota turned to the apparition, "I don't see any danger to me here. Just what was supposed to happen here? Was the jaguar family supposed to find me and eat me or something?"
"No, but if you look at the other side of the street, you'll see what I'm talking about."
She did so, and gasped when she saw Professor Mary Melody hiding behind a car.
And pull out a pistol.
As Mary followed the brunette, hiding behind cars and poles again, the ghost explained, "Mary tried to throw you off the time machine, but since she jumped with you at the last moment, she ended up in the alternate timeline you created, where The J.A.M. had lost his eye. She found him, and all her friends, and got Calamity to build another time machine to send her here to stop you. She switched branches on you, Dee, and nearly stopped you once and for all."
Dakota could only watch mutely as she saw Professor Melody—no, (CENSORED) it! Just plain Mary Melody follow her counterpart, who walked with total calmness back to the small park in front of the school. The reindeer pulled the sleigh slowly as they, too, followed the females.
It was her... she thought.
The Questor knelt behind a rampart and drew a bead on the toon's head, as she walked into the park.
Her hands weren't trembling.
"All of Heaven was watching, and all of Heaven was demanding that your soul be forfeited right here," said the ghost. "In fact, all of Heaven was rooting for Mary, pleading to her—BEGGING HER—to pull the trigger."
Dakota looked at Mary and at herself, and saw that for nearly one minute, the African-American had a clear shot of her counterpart's head.
…For a moment, she thought she saw a mega-coliseum in Heaven, and in it, a billion souls glaring down at her, booing at her, and giving her a billion Thumbs Down, and cheering Mary Melody on to finish the job…
"But—but—why didn't she?" she asked him.
"I'll let you listen, and you'll know."
Suddenly, the Caucasian thought she heard the African-American speaking, but her lips weren't moving. She then realised she was listening to her thoughts:
Who knows what more evil this corrupted girl could do to other children in the future? Dakota saw her hesitate, but the thoughts resumed:
No, this is for justice. I will destroy evil, remove whatever device the evil toon has to control the time machine, and scene-change myself to Acme Acres.
This look-alike will not harm my boyfriend again.
But then, another Voice boomed out of nowhere. The brunette couldn't identify the source, as there was no one else around.
Don't do it.
Huh? Dakota saw confusion on Mary's face, but she didn't lower her gun or lose sight of her counterpart.
No, I have to do it! Isn't this what lovers do to defend each other? Destroy the sources of attack? Destroy the attackers? Destroy the enemy? Destroy—
Don't do it.
But—but—true, I'm not a villain, and true, this was also something that villains do, but didn't good guys also have situations like this? Like in a war—?
Are you in a war?
That's a good question. Am I in an open conflagration against someone who is bent on destroying everything I know is good? Does that justify my own intentions?
Don't do it.
Yes. I have to destroy evil. This evil teenager will go unpunished if I do nothing, and worse, she will very likely continue hurting others: other cubs.
Once again, the Carrotte baby stood out in Dakota's memory.
Don't do it.
She saw Mary reaffirm her stance and grip the pistol tighter.
Don't do it.
But if I kill her now, will the brunette be dead in the other timeline as well, or just here? And if no one knows about this except me, will this action be effective in deterring others from doing something like this?
Don't do it.
Or, am I doing this out of hate for the female toon?
Don't do it.
Hate is what drives villains forward. I'm not allowed to hate a villain, just the evil within the villain. Can I destroy evil without harming the villain, so that the villain will no longer be one?
Don't do it.
Have I talked to the evil toon, as deeply as I did with the evil jaguar?
"Evil jaguar?" asked Dakota. "Did my plan work that well?"
Don't do it.
Have I found out what drives this villain forward, and what had caused her to turn to the Dark Side, just as I found out with the evil jaguar?
Someone waits for her.
"WHAT?"
And could someone love the villain despite her being evil, as much as I loved the Anathema?
The teenager on the sleigh froze. Someone told Mary not to kill her, not for Dakota's sake, but for TEX'S!
Learn.
Do I want to be a Terminator, like that wolf?
I have judgment ready for her. I will do this. I will avenge. The J.A.M. is safe. It's time to go.
Quietly sobbing, she lowered her gun, just as the brunette pulled out a remote. Mary hung her head and put her gun away, (WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRPPPPPPPPPPPPP!) not noticing the blue flash. She remained in the edge of the park for a few minutes, just crying to herself, and thanking God that today was Saturday and no toons were crowding the school.
"So as you can see, The Boss had different plans."
Dakota turned to the ghost, shocked like never before. After a few moments, she tried to speak, "She—she could—she could have killed me—"
"And she didn't. She had already stopped your plan, without you knowing it. And if she had killed you, no one would have known that it was her. There would be no way that Ballistics would have been able to trace the bullet back to its owner because the pistol model hasn't been designed yet. Mary could have taken your identification and all your equipment before leaving, scene-changed herself back to Acme Acres, and return to her original timeline, and you would have died here as a complete unknown. You would have been buried in a common grave in a foreign country twenty years before you were born."
"It was her…" was all the humanmaid could say.
"Yes, and now you know just how much your actions have devalued your life in front of others, and in front of Heaven! Deliberately changing the destiny of a soul to make him NOT become a Waiting One nearly caused YOUR soul to be forfeited right HERE! And just so you know, the only ones who would have missed you would have been Tex and your mother, and it was because of THEM that Mary didn't kill you! But even so, in judgment, there is mercy. If there were no mercy, you would have been killed here, but now you've been given this final warning. I hope you heed it."
"It was her…"
"You also heard the Voice that stopped her. There is judgment ready for you, if you don't make amends and change your ways. Now, come on!" He whipped the reins again, and the sleigh was airborne once more. "We'll go back to your own time now, because you must see how the rest of the 'Unproductive' and the 'Freaks' spend Christmas!"
"It was her…"
They flew back to their own time, and back to California, and from there began a trip around the world the likes of which Dakota had never seen.
Dakota Dee saw a world of toons that she never knew existed. They stopped at a homeless shelter, and saw Furrball happily serving turkey to everyone. They stopped at countless hospitals, churches, temples, and even synagogues, that were celebrating the original meaning of the holiday. But they didn't stop there. They went on to thousands of homes, of all races, nationalities, languages, and economic levels, meeting toons who, by the look of their faces, were joyous in celebrating the holiday, presents or no presents. They even stopped at an oil platform in the middle of a raging ocean. On the bridge there were several humans, a camel, a jackal, and a fennec, who were sitting at a table; the camel serving a meagre chicken dinner, while the fennec was operating his laptop, making it play Christmas carols it had stored on mp3's. And all were singing "Joy To The World" apparently in Arabic, and quite happily at that. The ghost poured gold on all of them, and continued. Another stop was at a prison, where a group of visitors had organised a celebration for the inmates, and all were singing "God Rest Ye Merry, Gentlemen" in what sounded like Romanian. Another stop at another prison, where there were two inmates in a dark cell, suddenly brightened by the ghost's presence. Both were kneeling on their bunks, and speaking very quietly. Then, they both looked up, and the brunette saw that they were Oriental. They turned to each other, and hugged, saying something in what sounded like Chinese.
The teenager was surprised when a subtitle appeared below their faces: "Merry Christmas, brother."
On and on they flew again, this time in a very crowded basement. A teenage boy was standing in the front, speaking quietly, and apparently in Spanish, because Dakota heard the word "Navidad" in his speech. And despite the nearly inhuman conditions, everyone in the room seemed happy. Gold was sprinkled there, and they moved on.
Dakota didn't know for how long they travelled, dropping gold on whoever was giving out of love, whoever was telling others the Message of the season, and whoever was making sacrifices out of the goodness of their heart.
At last, they returned to California, and with a crunch of gravel and sand, landed in what appeared to be an old western ghost town. This she deduced because there was a decayed sign at the entrance of the town that proclaimed:
OLD WESTERN GHOST TOWN
There was no snow, just a mist all throughout. "Why are we stopping here and not the North—" Her question was truncated when she turned and saw the ghost's appearance.
His hair and beard were now extremely silvery and brittle, his eyes had lost their spark, his face was very wrinkled, his suit was thin and faded, and his gloves were cracked. Even the now exhausted and panting reindeer seemed to have aged 50 years in one night, with their thin fur, trembling legs, and crumbling antlers. Rudolph's nose was barely brighter than a candle.
"What—what happened to you? And why aren't we at the North Pole?"
His voice was ancient as well. "We—can't fly any more. As I told you before, Dee, I'm not physical—I'm an attitude—a general atmosphere of the time. Very few know how to maintain the spirit of Christmas all year long, like Scrooge and the Cratchit family did. That is why I age like this. There is no home base waiting for me in the Arctic Ocean."
"But—still, aren't you supposed to be all jolly and giving all that 'ho-ho-ho' business?"
"There is more to me, a Spirit of Christmas, than joy and giving. There's also truth, sternness, and self-defence if necessary. A brother of mine had to give some children weapons during one Christmas in Narnia—"
"Brother?"
"Yes, I have 2,011 of them right now."
She raised an eyebrow, "Wow, that's a big family. And it's going to grow to infinity?"
The ghost shook his head. "Oh, no, Dee. There WILL be a finite number of us. There will come a time when these runs will stop, and we will no longer be needed, either past, present, or future Christmas spirits."
That made Dakota uneasy. "Wh-what? Are Christmases going to end?"
He chuckled, "No, Dee, not in the way you're thinking." Then he became very serious again, leaned closer, and explained, "Pay close attention, Dee, because this is what will happen in the not-too-distant future.
"Difficult times are coming, Dee, very difficult and trying times. You know how parents always say of their kids, 'This generation is going to the dogs!' and they forget that THEIR parents said the exact same thing about them?"
"Well, y-yes," she was unsure where he was going with that, and it increased her fear even more.
"The sad truth is that they are right. Each generation is gradually worse than the one before it, and mankind becomes more and more evil and corrupt as the years pass. This will come to a critical point in The Seven Christmases That Will Not Be."
"S-seven Christmases?" she balked incredulously. "Seven years without celebrating Christmas? That…that sounds awful!"
"It is. For seven years, the true meaning of Christmas will be forgotten by the majority of the world, and many will even eschew its celebration. Though my brothers will get some respite because it will be a brief time of rest for them as they hunker down for what is to come."
"What do you mean, 'hunker down'? Will others try to hunt them down and destroy them?"
"In part, but it gets worse. In the middle of The Seven Christmases That Will Not Be, there will be one Anti-Christmas."
Dakota blinked at that. "An 'Anti-Christmas?" she asked, dumbfounded. "What, are people going to be stealing from each other that day, or what?"
"Oh, no, Dee, it will be something much worse." She shivered in fright. "Just as Christmas is originally meant to celebrate the birth of a Good Man, the Anti-Christmas will be held to celebrate, not the birth, but the death, of not one, but two good men."
She sat back on her seat. "That…that is horrible! And what happens after those Seven Christmases? The world ends?"
The ghost chuckled, "Oh, no, that's when things start to improve. You see, once The Seven Christmases That Will Not Be are finished, the Birthday Boy will return and make all things right once again. Most of the evil will be wiped from the world, and everyone will finally have the Spirit of Christmas all year long, so it will be Christmas, every day, for a thousand years."
Dakota scratched her head at that. "You'll certainly be getting a lot of brothers when that happens. I mean, what, 365,000 new brothers after a thousand years?"
"It will be much simpler than that, Dee" he laughed. "Since everyone will have the Spirit of Christmas all year long, none of my brothers will have to endure these trips again. It will be a time of rest, for all of my brothers, all of mankind, and all of the world."
"But only for a thousand years? Will mankind start becoming evil again and you'll go back to having Christmas only once a year and then the whole thing will eventually repeat?"
"No, Dee," he said sternly, frightening her. "History is NOT cyclical, despite what you may have heard or been taught. What will happen is that after the thousand years are up, there will be one last skirmish against evil. It will be VERY intense, but thankfully, very brief. All the evil in the universe will then be destroyed, and it will be Christmas…" He looked up at the starless night.
"…forever…"
Dee turned away from him slightly, pondering on what he had revealed to her. Everyone will have the Spirit of Christmas, and it will never decay or fade away? No more evil or corruption?
She turned to him, "Well, I suppose that's something you and your kind look forward to—AAAAAHHHH! THERE'S SOMEONE ON THE BACK OF THE SLEIGH!" The teenager shrieked, jumping out of it.
The ghost turned stiffly and saw that the red bag, which was barely half-empty, was being moved by something under it. He eyed Dakota for a moment, and without hesitation threw back the top of the bag, revealing—
A boy and girl, who, had they received proper nourishment, would have passed for Dakota's younger sister and brother, if she had them. However, they were so thin, so pale, their eyes were sunken, their skin was scaly, their hair was crumbling, their clothes were putrid, and their stench was so repulsive that any monster from any horror movie would have been scared to death. Dakota labelled them as zombies, but even zombies had some sort of life in their eyes, which these two didn't have.
She staggered away from the sleigh, and would have run away, but she couldn't take her eyes off the children. Suppressing another scream, she managed to stutter, "W—who—wh—wh—(CENSORED), I hope they're not YOUR kids!"
Feebly, the ghost replied, "They are humanity's children. They hang on to me, as many others try to hang on to the purely material and temporary, because, yes, they are slaves to commercialism and marketing and society in general. The boy's name is Ignorance; the girl is Want. Be on your guard against these two, in all the forms that they come, but especially the boy. On his forehead is the word DOOM, unless it is erased. And now," he leaned toward the teenager, "I dare you to deny that. I dare you to slander me, and all who tell that to you! 'Admit it for your factious purposes, and make it worse. And bide the end!'"
Dakota could only watch in horror at the zombies, almost seeing her own distorted face in theirs. "But—don't they have any shelter or orphanage to go to?"
He raised an eyebrow. "Why, Dee, I'm surprised at you. I thought you hated charities even MORE! And would one actually think that because it's Christmas that you're going to think differently?"
Once again, she was slapped in the face by her own words. Turning for a moment, and raising her arms in exasperation, she blurted, "But I'm not the only one who has the power to give! Aren't there enough goody-two-shoes millionaires out there that can keep the charities running? I mean, we BOTH saw that there are plenty of toons out there who give! Why should I be different? What difference would I make?" She stopped for a moment when she heard her watch sound the hourly chime, indicating that it was midnight, AGAIN. She turned to him, "Why am I being singled out as the one responsible for the—demise—of—"
The children were gone.
The bag was gone.
The gold was gone.
The sleigh was gone.
The ghost was gone.
The reindeer were gone.
She looked about, but she was all alone in the Old Western Ghost Town.
"Spirit?"
Silence, not even a cricket chirped.
"Ghost?"
Silence.
"Spectre?"
More silence.
"Apparition? Phantasm?"
Still more silence.
"Santa? Santa Claus?"
Her heart beat horrendously fast, pounding at the insufferable silence.
"Nick? Saint Nicholas?"
Her voice wouldn't even echo.
"Ghost Of Christmas Present?"
She ran down the gravel-covered street, but she was all alone in the oppressive silence and darkness.
"Father Christmas? Nicholas of Bari? ANYONE?!"
Suddenly, the silence was broken.
Despite the sound being infinitely hushed, lower than a whisper, the surrounding silence made it sound like a sonic boom that pounded in Dakota's brain and chest. It took her several seconds to identify the sound as the crunch of boots on gravel with an odd metallic counterpoint. If the teenager did not know any better, she would swear that she was hearing spurs. She whirled toward the source of the sound—
—and fading in from the mist, walking toward her with only the sound of his footfalls, was The Ghost of Christmas Yet To Come.