How about a festive new drabble to cap off the year? At this rate, we're gonna run out of holidays. We started 2020 with something cute and a little sad about Reynard and Vixey, so it's only fitting to end it the same. The only way this could have been more perfect is if it was drabble 24 or 25, but can't have everything I suppose.

For maximum merriness, we recommend reading this outloud in your best Boris Karloff impression.

Drabble 22: How the Count Hustled Kitsmas

Foxden

The Mild Manor - Main Hall

7: 24 PM

'Twas the night before Kitsmas, and all through the estate, suited mammals gathered, not wanting to be late. The purpose of which would soon become clear, in this tale from the past of roughly ten years.

The foyer was crowded with thugs, all over the place, either rapt with interest or staring into space. But their attention was stolen by the firing of a gun, followed by a voice shouting, "Merry Kitsmas, everyone!"

Standing with a flourish at the top of the stair, was a fox known for his style and flair. He was ruthless and greedy, in no small amount, this eccentric criminal who called himself the Count. In lieu of a suit, defying his trade, he now donned a Santa costume, custom-made. The hat was a good fit and the coat nice and poofy, but he also wore a tie that was altogether goofy. It was white with red stripes much like a candy cane, card suits running between them in a chain. And if that weren't enough to describe this kingpin, there was no mistaking his ever-present grin.

"Boys, don't you fret, there's no reason to fear, for I've got the perfect hustle this Kitsmas year! I'm quite proud of this particular crime, and yes, we're doing it all in rhyme!"

The suits exchanged glances, their worries they could not contain, as even for the Count this sounded insane. One goon especially, a ferret named Chris, ran from the room screaming, "I didn't sign up for this!"

The Count shook his head. "Anyone who's afraid had best leave too, because this isn't going to get any better for you. But for all of those who stay by my side, I'll explain my plan and do it with pride!" He descended the stairs and looked over the crowd, who by now had all been properly cowed. "I'll just ask you one question, do try not to miss, can someone tell me the true meaning of Kitsmas?"

Another fox stepped forward. "Why it's about jolly old Santa Paws, who lives far to the north and is governed by no laws. A polar bear whose wisdom is matched only by his girth, he spends day and night building toys of great worth. Not by himself, for even he needs to sleep, he's assisted by mice to maintain the upkeep. Dressed in green garb and singing as one, they work together until the job is done. Then when the night comes and they've loaded the toys, Santa flies off to bring them to all the good girls and boys!"

"You told the story well and made little omission, but I wasn't asking for exposition."

Now a rhino spoke up. "It's about your family and spending time together, bundling up by the fire to avoid the cold weather. All of your aunts and your uncles and your siblings and your cousins, coming over to visit and dropping in by the dozens!"

"I know this is filthy rich coming from me, but even I couldn't take that much family."

Next was a tiger. "Could it be about the food? I know seeing that spread really heightens my mood. It all smells so delicious, so appealing to the eye, especially my mom's famous apricot pie. We all take our spots on the big festive night, then dig into the grub for the rest of the...night?"

"GET OUT!" the Count ordered with a shout. The cat jolted upright, then turned tail and fled, but couldn't escape the shame no matter how quickly he sped. "Come on, everyone, you can do better than that! Show me your Kitsmas spirit isn't just old hat!"

Taking his challenge was a fox of little renown, a grinning teen corsac whom he called Down. "Yo, it's all about the merch, my main mam! You stick it on the shelves and then bam, bam, BAM! They eat it right up, the tackier the better, from shiny ornaments to an ugly sweater! As the moolah pours in, they dig right through the slog, til' they're loaded with crap and you're rolling in cash, dawg!"

The Count grimaced. "I won't contest that answer, it's yours without a fight, but why the fox are you the one to get it right?" He regained his composure and his affable cheer, for now it was time to move on from here. "You are correct, the true meaning is in the goods! And unloading them on the most gullible of neighborhoods. I refer to Bunnyburrow, our so-called better half. We'll profit at their expense and have a good laugh. But how, it must be told, lo and behold!"

He clapped twice and something rolled down the stairs. The Count stepped aside and let it miss him by hairs. It was a large, brown sack that overflowed with cheap junk. No one was expecting it to fit in his trunk. "I have assembled here through meticulous studies, the most enticing goods for all those bunny buddies. I'll go door-to-door and give them my pitch. By the time I'm done, it won't even matter which is which. They'll buy it all, and if they suspect foul play, that'll just be more willing customers for Fox Away!"

Cheers came from the ranks of the Foxden Mob, all eager to see the results of the job. "I'm just about ready!" the Count said with glee. "There's no time to lose, not even for tea! I've got the costume and the bag, all I need is my caddie!"

A small voice said from behind him, "Merry Kitsmas, Daddy!"

Little Vixey Wilde was raring to go, tail wagging with excitement as she bobbed on her toes. She wore a green costume, like the mice under Santa Paws, a bit small on her but otherwise no flaws.

The Count turned on his heel and smiled down at his daughter, an expression more fitting for chickens at the slaughter. "Vixey, my dear, I'm so glad you're here! With your innocent charms and penchant for mayhem, those silly rabbits won't know what hit em'! Now we depart, off and away, to my car that I'm just gonna pretend is a sleigh, if that's okay!"

The crowd dispersed as the Count rushed out the door, barely struggling to drag the heavy sack across the floor. Vixey skipped along behind him, more than just glad, to spend this Kitsmas season with her amazing new dad.

Bunnyburrow

8: 25 PM

The Count and the kit drove to the neighboring town, on a mission of greed and they would not back down. In the passenger's seat was the dry burlap sack, while his only daughter sat happily in the back. Some would look at this picture and find it not quite right, but the young fox let it pass without even a fight. In order to get the most out of this quality time, she would help him on this trip that couldn't possibly be a crime.

"What places should we visit?" she asked, perking up. She was a bundle of energy, even for a pup.

"No need to be picky, we'll hit the first house we see. That should start us off well for the rest of our spree. So stand up straight and look your best. This is where I'll put your skills to the test."

He parked the black SUV in front of their first stop. "Alright, we're here, let's take it from the top." He reached into the sack and pulled out a small, artificial tree, then passed it to the back and over to Vixey. "I can see through their windows and there's no tree in sight, a sign that we've got some desperate bunnies tonight. So let's help out these sad folks in a pinch. Sell this cheap piece of crap, it'll be a cinch!"

Vixey nodded and hopped out of the car, carrying the tree a distance not terribly far. She knocked on the door of a local rabbit home, and might have accidentally knocked over a garden gnome. Out came a buck wearing ratty suspenders, a potential customer for the vulpine vendors.

Vixey put on a grin and she opened her trap. "Hello, would you like to buy this cheap piece of crap?"

The door was slammed in her face, leaving the fox out in the cold. She just stood there in shock, her tacky product unsold.

From behind came the Count, putting a claw to his chin. A comedic scene, but even he couldn't grin. "Your technique could use work," he admitted with a sigh. "Here, just to demonstrate, let me give it a try."

He took the tree from her paws and threw it over his shoulder, knocking again in an attempt much bolder. The buck opened the door, caught off-guard by the tod, giving him time to begin, the poor sod. "Greetings, my fine fellow! Are we feeling merry and mellow? I couldn't help but notice your lack of a tree, for such is the reason I've come to your property. If you don't mind, I'd like to have a chat."

"Sir, why are you talking like that?"

"I'm simply channeling the Kitsmas spirit, getting in on the fun! And it's not always easy to make these words so well-spun."

"I gotta admit, it is sorta impressive." He dragged a paw through his headfur, which he'd made quite a mess of. "But I don't need a tree. No one's coming by anyway."

"Now that's not true, I made it here on my sleigh."

"That's just a car."

"How right you are! I daresay you could use some self-worth. A lack of company shouldn't take away from your mirth. So what if no one else is here to celebrate? You can celebrate yourself and know that you're great! This is your holiday too, and tis' the season, to enjoy your own festivities, you need no other reason!"

The buck started to smile, encouraged by his pep-talk. He looked up at the tree and kicked idly at a rock. "It's a nice sentiment, but how much would I pay?"

"Oh, I think someone like you could use a bargain today."

And that was how the Count, through flattery and playing nice, sold a cheap piece of crap for double the price.

He shoved a stack of bills under his coat, taking the walk between houses as time to gloat. "See? That wasn't so hard, was it? Just keep your wits about you, 'cause there's one born every minute!"

Vixey looked up at him in awe, floored by what she saw. "You did great, Daddy! You took that sad bunny and made him all gladdy!"

He winced. "Could stand to practice your rhymes a bit more. But there's no time for that now, we're at the next door." He looked to the house, still dragging the sack, and ignoring whatever it was doing to his back. "This one could use some more lights, it's barely aglow, but we'll give them enough to really put on a show. Do you think you can handle this one, my little prodigy? It should be as easy as one, two, three."

"Don't worry, I've got this!" She gave a little salute, the perfect picture of bliss. She leapt into the sack and rummaged around a bit. What emerged was an abundance of lights, cocooning the kit. Though all that poked out was her nose, tail, and feet, she still navigated her way up the street. Waddling up to the door of the next mark in line, she got a finger out and poked their doorbell just fine.

An old couple came out to greet her, spotting the fox through those showing bits of fur. "Why hello there, dearie," said an elderly doe. They looked almost sad for the little one out in the snow.

Vixey got her mouth free to show them her smile. She had her dad's pearly whites, even if she lacked his style. "Hi there, do you need some lights? I think they'd really help you see...the sights!"

"Aw, that's adorable, she's rhyming for us," the doe cooed.

The Count smirked from a distance. Their attention is glued.

"I know our neighbors like to be fancy," said the buck. "But we're not looking to leave anyone dumbstruck. We just want to show our spirit for the holiday."

"Not to mention, our wallet still has a say." The doe giggled. "Look at me, now I'm doing it too! This sort of thing is contagious, who knew?"

Vixey hopped up and down. "Don't worry, I just wanna help you out! Even if you don't have much money, there's no need to pout!"

"That's very generous of you, little one." Said with a smile from the old gentlebun. "Then how much are you asking for those?"

Vixey twirled around and did a little pose. "I couldn't ask you to pay just to get some better viewing!"

The Count's smirk faded. Wait, what is she doing?

"Now how could we turn that down, you dear sweet thing?" The doe reached towards the lights and grabbed the end of the string. She gave it a tug and the whole bunch spun loose, causing the dizzy fox to land right on her caboose.

"Thank you so much!" The buck rolled up the lights. "But we can't take these for free, it just wouldn't be right. Here, you deserve at least this much." He dropped some coins in her paws that were warm to the touch.

The old couple shut the door and left her standing there, giddy as could be without so much as a care.

"What was that?!" shouted the furious Count. "You just gave them away for such a pitiful amount?!"

Vixey's mouse ears drooped and her fox tail did too. "I'm sorry, Daddy, it just seemed like the right thing to do."

The Count glared at her for a moment longer, but his fatherly pride proved just a bit stronger. "Well, it's better than nothing, so I guess there's no real harm. But let's both hope that the third time's the charm."

The next house on their tour had no obvious need, but the Count could have them eating out of his paws indeed. This wasn't his time in the spotlight though, and now it was his daughter's time to rake in some dough. "I'll make this one simple, and that will be a rarity, get these folks to buy a calendar, supposedly for charity." What they were allegedly supporting was quite plain to see, for across the top of the calendar was the word 'Lagomorphopathy'."

Vixey gave him a hug, just a light little squeeze. "Thanks for helping me get over that disease."

"Right…" The Count gently pried her off, fighting down the urge to scoff. He hadn't expected tonight to be even this hard, but now he was a little unsure in more than one regard. "Just run along and get our customer to agree. There's no pressure at all, but please don't fail me."

Vixey knocked on the door and brought the calendar with her, knowing that on her father's guidance she could not defer. The door opened to reveal a male rabbit, Vixey still smiling but mostly out of habit. "Merry Kitsmas, sir, would you like to make a donation? To the 'Lagomorphopathy Awareness Foundation'?"

He raised a suspicious eyebrow and crossed his arms, not at all taken by the little one's charms. "That sounds made up and much like a scam."

She flinched. "But, sir, I-"

"Don't wanna hear it, now scram!"

Vixey sniffled, tears starting to fall. Though they were almost the same height, she felt incredibly small. "I just wanted to spread some Kitsmas cheer…"

"I'm giving you three seconds to get out of here." He reached into the pocket of his overalls.

Vixey didn't move, but not because she didn't think he had the balls. Her dad was counting on her to make this sale. No matter what, she could not fail.

She fell to the ground as she was hit by spray, a burning, stinging mixture produced by Fox Away. The door was slammed in her face, not that she could see it, and she had to crawl blindly away, the poor little kit. Whimpering and whining into the snow, she tried to figure out which way to go.

"Daddy…" she sobbed, not sure where he went. "I'm sorry I messed up. I didn't even get a cent."

The Count's voice boomed in the darkness, but he didn't sound mad. In fact, she could've sworn he actually sounded glad. "On the contrary, it seems our stop here was quite unneeded! I'd even say our goal is exceeded!"

Vixey rubbed at her eyes, finally regaining her sight. She looked up in confusion, and even a small bit of fright. "W-What do you mean?"

"We're already making green! That fellow there is an avid consumer of our brand. After a stunt like this, he'll send us a grand!"

Vixey was still unsure, but managed to stand up straight. "Then you're saying I did good? Even great?"

"Absolutely, my little investment! But I think we should give this project a small reassessment. You certainly do look like a sorry little thing, and I wonder what kind of results that will bring. Let's find you a new set of camouflage, then get the ball rolling on a holiday montage!"

Vixey stood at the next door, in ratty clothes and walking with a crutch, to ask for a little but not too much. "Excuse me, sir, I don't want to act above my station, but could you please donate to support my operation?"

A doe smiled, the reaction expected. "Of course, precious child, I'll add to what you've collected." She gave the girl some bucks for which she sorely yearned, and accepted a lovely box of ornaments in return.

At the next stop, Vixey also had a cast. Why her father felt that necessary, she simply hadn't asked. "Sign it if you wish, but please do so tenderly. I need some help to pay for this crippling injury."

Several young bunnies did indeed sign, their parents more than happy to support the vulpine. Unto the girl their funds they did bequeath, and for their door got a fancy new wreath.

Since all of this was going so well, the Count then just stuck her in a wheelchair, what the hell. "I've had a long string of misfortune tonight. Maybe with your money I can help make it right?"

Believe it or not, she was still trying, and her increasing bluntness wasn't keeping them from crying. The rabbit wife proved a worthy sap, dropping an obscene amount of bills into her lap.

Her more cynical husband shot her a glare. "Why do you need the crutch if you're already in a chair?"

The wife ignored his suspicions and happily paid, for which they got some chocolates that the girl couldn't eat anyway.

As the Count prepared to help her fake being blind, he started to sing a song, but only in his mind.

"You're a sly one, Mr. Count."

"Any job you will surmount!"

"You'll make sure the work gets done, but never cease to make a pun."

"Mr. Cooooooount!"

After a while of this, their supplies were nearly gone, and the Count was about ready to wrap up the con. While Vixey struggled to get the fake cast off her fur, he stopped to go over the fruits of their labor. "This truly is the season of joy. That worked even better than the bunny costume ploy. Sympathy alone may not always do the trick, but throw in a tangible reward and that'll make it stick!"

Vixey wasn't entirely sure what he meant, but she still considered this time well spent. She'd done a good job, and while it had been a little crappy, the important thing was that it made her dad happy.

The Count turned to her. "As for you, I just have one question to ask. How did you feel about performing this task?"

Vixey perked up. "It was a load of fun, and I gotta say, I can't wait to do it again one year from today!"

"That's the spirit, I knew you had it in you! But to be more specific, I meant those lies you spewed. You belted them right out with natural innocence and grace. If I didn't know any better, I'd say you didn't know what you were doing in the first place! Ah ha ha ha, wait, no, no, no. It goes ho ho ho!"

He laughed, and Vixey laughed right along, but it was starting to become clear that something was wrong. "What do you mean?" she asked, genuinely confused. "I just wanted to give those nice bunnies some stuff we haven't used."

The Count's laughter grew strained, his smile almost cracked. "Come on now, I think it's time we dropped the act. Your facade had me impressed from the first day we met, but I want you as my heir, don't you forget."

"Oh yeah, what did you mean by that anyway? I didn't really get it when you invited me to stay."

The Count stopped laughing, his face shifting slowly into horror, as he realized that he might have adopted an actual low-scorer. He needed a moment, catching his breath, as his dreams of succession suffered a sudden, violent death. This can't be, I couldn't have been wrong! Me of all foxes being fooled for so long?!

He looked down at Vixey and the dopey smile on her muzzle, pondering what to do about this unexpected puzzle. She's certainly been eager and gotten better with the rhymes; maybe these won't be such terrible times. I'll adapt to this, as I am wont to do, and when I'm done with her, she'll be as good as new.

Foxden

The Mild Manor

10: 31 PM

They finally returned, and while it was a late hour, the two of them looked anything but dour. Though the Count's smile wasn't as wide as usual, Vixey remained ever cheerful, and possibly delusional. He announced, "Our mission was a success, but it came down to the wire! We roasted their wallets like chestscouts on an open fire!"

The henchmammals cheered, almost disbelieving, that father and daughter had such a good evening. But they just as quickly began to disperse, any parting words left brief and terse.

"Where are they going?" Vixey asked, tilting her head.

"Don't you worry, it's not like they've fled. They're simply preparing for more of the night's events. I know you must be tired, but are you ready to open presents?"

It was one day too early, but Vixey hardly cared, not when it came to gifts being shared. She followed after the group, utterly enthralled, into a room that was decorative, but she didn't know what it was called. There were presents galore under a gigantic tree, all addressed to the Count and Vixey. He pointed them out, "Do you know the true purpose of that pile? It may be festive, but it's really just tributes in style!"

Vixey didn't need much of an excuse, just wanting to enjoy the party and cut loose. She plopped down in front of the tree, chipper and bright, moving on from the setbacks earlier that night. Everything was perfect again in her little world, suits getting ready as a banner unfurled.

Merry Kitsmas to the Count and his kin!

We hope you enjoy all the fun stuff within!

"Not bad, not bad at all!" the Count appraised. "Whoever came up with that is in need of a raise! Now gather your presents and form a line, to watch them be opened by me and mine."

They did as they were told and lined up before them, everyone curious to observe the outcome.

The first gift went to the Count, for he was still the boss, and one who'd just gotten some minty new tooth floss. "What a wonderful idea, let's fix up my smile! Won't have anything stuck in there for a while!"

Vixey got a yo-yo and gave it a spin, bringing it all the way to the floor then back towards her chin. She didn't know how it worked, but she certainly tried, until she hit herself in the nose and almost cried.

From Up to the Count came a brand new tie. It impressed even him, and that was no lie. "It's better than ya think, dawg, this ain't no store-bought brand! There's a pocket in the back for hiding contraband!"

Down got Vixey a gothic makeup kit and watched her examine it like a sleuth. "What? This sort of thing is all the rage with today's youth!"

The Count looked at his new toaster and saw that it came from Sideways. "Already have one, but I'll find a use for it one of these days."

Then there was the rhino and two tigers, the nameless trio, coming to the front with gifts to bestow. The rhino gave to Vixey a generic fox doll, and the felines gifted the Count a set of cards, equally banal. He was unimpressed. "Wow, you really put your thinking caps on for these ones. No wonder you're my most unmemorable minions."

One of the tigers couldn't help but wonder. Would he ever make up for that wordplay blunder?

The ceremony continued, the gifts building into piles, and through the whole thing the Count was all smiles. But as they reached the end and the hours were waning, along came the present he knew would be most entertaining. "Ah, the brilliant Dr. Hareison! Please come forth if you can bear a pun!"

The jittery hare stepped forward with pride, presenting a box that was longer than wide. "Have a look-see at my greatest invention yet! You'll find it very useful, and stylish too I bet!"

The Count opened it up, undeniably curious. He tore the paper aside at a rate almost furious. For hiring the best mad scientist that could be afforded, he had no doubt his efforts would be rewarded. He didn't even keep his fingers crossed, so when he finally looked inside, he was a little lost. "Is that a cane?"

"But it's hardly plain! Just give it a spin and you'll soon find, that I had more than just an accessory in mind!"

He took it out of the box and twirled it around, only making an impressive swishing sound. "It certainly is fashionable, of that I can tell. But what other purpose does-WHOA, WHAT THE HELL?!"

As he examined the cane, he fumbled one of its ears, and shot a plume of fire out into his peers. Everyone around could do nothing but gawk, the Count staring down at it in shock. "Well, I sure wasn't expecting that part. To add a built-in flamethrower is pretty damn smart."

The doctor smiled. "Do you think that's it's only function? I would be mad to stop at that junction! It can shoot ink and tasers and itching powder too! There's also a mic for the vocalist in you! Plus a smokescreen, a clock, a built-in motor! That one's just if you happen to be a boater. Then there's a sword, a firework cannon, a chocolate milk dispenser if you're looking for a gaffe! But I've rambled long enough, so I'll let you figure out the other half."

The Count was actually stunned. "This thing makes no logical sense whatsoever. How on Earth did you manage to put it together?"

"That's a trade secret, but it was quite a feat! To help get you started, I made you this cheat sheet."

He went to pass him a list as the Count fiddled with the other ear. More fire came out and incinerated it, much to the crowd's fear. "I wasn't paying attention to which one I pulled before. But no worries, that'll happen just once and never more! I've got plenty of time to play around with this thing! And then there's no telling the havoc I'll bring!"

Vixey let out a yawn and just enjoyed the show, basking in her father's excited glow. Now there were only two presents left to unwrap. The ones for each other, and then she could nap. She grabbed her small gift and padded over to him, just a little something she'd gotten on a whim.

The Count took a second to notice, but then quickly grabbed hold, opening it up without needing to be told. While he would never leave a gift refused, he had to admit he was a little bemused. Inside was a coffee mug, smudged just a tad, and on it was written "World's Greatest Dad". Vixey's excited bouncing proved a bit of a distraction, smiling giddily as she awaited his reaction.

"...It's a little cliché, but I'll still give you credit. Let me just make one slight edit." He took out a marker and crossed out that last word, changing it to "World's Greatest Crime Lord', or so he had heard. "It was a good gift and now it's perfect! But on a night like this, what else could you expect?"

Vixey looked like she had some answers to that question, but the Count soon veered into a digression. "As for your gift, I originally considered an ugly sweater, but then I thought of something much better!" He passed Vixey her present and she too forgot all about it, digging through the wrapping paper in a show of true grit.

She was expecting toys, maybe a box of yummies. Instead she got a book titled 'Running a Criminal Empire for Dummies'."

The Count watched her look down at the book, built firm and extra thick. At the time I bought it, the title was meant to be ironic. "What do you think of your gift, my child? Just a little something to help you mesh into House Wilde."

"I...I thought I was already part of this house," she spoke, her voice quiet as a mouse.

"Oh, you are, make no mistake! But perhaps your mind has been on too much of a break. So we'll work on some lessons to sharpen your wit, in order for you to become a better fit. I only want the brightest future for you, which might involve some hard lessons, just a few. But if you do as I say and study like no other, then one day you too can be as good as your brother."

The Count smiled at her and gave her a pat, then headed over to his mobsters to chat. He needed to party for he was still quite high-strung. It was Kitsmas after all, and the night was still young.

Vixey stayed where she was, sitting on the couch, tossing the book aside and drooping to a slouch. This was supposed to be a holiday spent with her dad, so why had it left her feeling so sad? She didn't want to read some dumb book, and she never cared about being a crook. She just wanted to have a real family. Nothing else mattered, not to Vixey.

But now she had all these expectations that had been preset, to live up to a brother she'd never even met. At first, it had only been somewhat perplexing, but the more she thought about it, the more she found it vexing. If she needed to do all this just to stand tall, then maybe her dad didn't really love her after all...

Vixey sat alone on that couch, and so they say, her heart shrank three sizes that day.

I know there wasn't much of a wait, but hope you enjoyed this latest update!

Okay, enough of that. Writing the last chapter was physically taxing, but writing this drabble was mentally taxing. Shoutout to Rhymezone for all but sponsoring this one. The amazing thing is I still had a lot of fun with it. Probably the most fun I've ever had torturing myself.

Another shoutout to jaff96art for some festive artwork on DA and ANOTHER shoutout to the ZAA Discord server for providing some of the gift ideas. This drabble was mainly supposed to be a fun and festive little romp to cap off the year on a happy note, but much like a recent pair of Zootopia-related announcements, that happiness comes at a price. Past all the cheesy rhymes, this is still a Reynard and Vixey drabble and this became an ample time to show off some of the growing issues between them. It's just not Christmas without uncomfortable interactions among family. Hope you have better ones anyway!