Merry Christmas! I meant to upload this fic days ago, but my computer decided that it wanted to kick back and not start for me for a few days…so, it's a tad bit late. But oh, well, cheers! And a happy holiday to everyone out there screwed up enough to be reading this ^^;;
(Siko sits in the center of a circle of children…yes, the same lucky tikes that were treated to 'Schuirella'…wearing a Santa hat and happily eating a candy cane)
Kid #1: Ms. Seeee-ko, can I have a candy cane?
Siko: No, it's mine! Get your own, punk! *smiles at happily at it* Mmmm, candy cane…*drools* Pepperminty…
Kid #2: We wanna hear a story!
Siko: Yeah, well, I want Kyo and Kaoru from Dir en grey to get married, but it's never gonna happen, so there!
Kid #3: Please, Ms. Siko? We wanna hear another story about pretty boys!
Kid #1: Yeah, we love bishounen!
Siko: *grins* Oh, do you now?
Kid #4: I have a collection of yaoi doujinshi now!
Siko: *cackles* AHAHAHAHA! SO EASILY CORRUPTED YOUR LITTLE MINDS ARE!
Kids: *scared*
Siko: *abruptly stops* Right, then. *grins again* Alright, I'll tell you a Christmas story then.
Kids: Oh, boy, a Christmas story! *many sounds of happiness…whatever those are*
Siko: SHUDDUP! Oh, and, uh *looks at Kid #4* how 'bout you show me some of that collection later on, ne?
Kid #4: Mine!
Siko: Greedy-greedy aren't we? …oh, yeah, that's a good thing. Alright, where shall I begin our story?
A Very Screwed Up Christmas Carol
~*~Well, a long time ago, there lived a man named Ebenezer Crawford~*~
(cue Crawford in 19th century garb, holding a cane and smoking a pipe)
Crawford: I really resent this…
~*~Crawford was a bastard.~*~
Crawford: Hey! Why does everyone always portray me as a bastard?!
~*~Because it's a generalization made in fanfics that everyone follows. Plus it's fun to have everyone hate you.~*~
Crawford: Whhhhyyyy???
~*~Oh, not that I hate you. You're just too kawaii for me to hate you. Isn't that right? Awww, my kawaiiiii widdle Braddykins! You're just so cute, aren't you, aren't you?! *pinches his cheeks*~*~
Crawford: *glowers* I find this demeaning.
~*~Then shut yer yap and let me finish!~*~
Crawford: Slave-driving demon-child…
~*~Now, Crawford was a very angry, bitter man. He was also a very wealthy man who made money from his business, the supply of courtesans to Tokyo, which for the purposes of this story is identical to 19th century London~*~
Crawford: So I'm a pimp? Cool!
~*~Shut up! Crawford worked his employees to the bone, giving them long hours, not paying them fairly and occasionally getting discounts on their services for himself. Now, on the night of December the 24th, one of his employees, Ken Cratchit was just getting in from his recent rendezvous with a curious man who referred to himself only as 'Botan' and when asked for money for Ken's services, initially offered a paper airplane as means of payment. Ken was very tired from his long day of work and very eager to get home to his loving…'family'.~*~
Ken: *nervously walks into Crawford's office, wearing a hoop skirt, a low-cut bodice baring most of his chest, very uncomfortable-looking high-heeled shoes and horribly askew wig of long brown hair and shivering from the bitter cold of the outside*
Crawford: Oh, stop with your distressed act, woman.
Ken: *in a perfect Cockney accent* But, I'm no' a w'mon, Mis-tah Crah-fahd!
Crawford: And quit it with that accent!
Ken: Oh, can't I jus' use it a gant's whis-kah, then?
Crawford: No!
Ken: And that daftie Botan, 'e 'idn't want ta have a nosh-off in th' pit, 'e 'anted it nettie! Ah' told 'im, 'listen y' sodding ninny-
Crawford: STOP IT!
Ken: Oy, no need ta go round th' twist, right?
Crawford: *shudder*
Ken: *sighs* Is this better?
Crawford: *twitches* …yes.
Ken: Ahem, Mister Crawford, sir, I've come to ask for Christmas day off.
Crawford: What?!
Ken: Well…I'd like to spend it with my family. I haven't been home for 3 months since you've made me your slave at your house.
Crawford: Oh, bah humblug!
Ken: It's humbug.
Crawford: …hum…blug?
Ken: No, sound it out, hum-buuuuhg.
Crawford: Humblug?
Ken: Humbug!
Crawford…*blinks* ….h…hum…blurg?
Ken: *hand to head*
Crawford: *regains composure and clears his throat* Listen, Cratchit, I run a place of business. I can't have my employees calling out on the busiest days of the year. People want their yuletide-whores, dammit!
Ken: But, sir, my son, Chibi-Omi has grown very ill and-
Crawford: You'll either come to work tomorrow or you'll no longer be working for me!
Ken: *glares* That means no more after-work 'private sessions', then.
Crawford: *glares to himself and clenches fist* Damn, he's good…*looks back at Ken* Very well, then! But I'm not doing this because I care about your stupid kid! And I expect you on the streets at the crack of down the day after, pouting and flouncing away!
Ken: *smiles* Thank you, sir, thank you very much! Merry Christmas to you!
Crawford: Baaaaah humblarg!
Ken: *walking out* It's 'humbug'!
Crawford: Oh, whatever…
~*~Later that night, after Crawford was done counting his precious money, he threw on his coat and hat and left his office to walk home. On the way there, he happened across a young redheaded woman with very particular hair, bundled as best she could against the biting cold and heavily falling snow. In her hands she held a practically empty basket.~*~
Manx: Excuse me, sir, would you be interested in donating to the bishounen shelter? I'm raising money so that these boys can have Christmas dinner and maybe some presents…and then eventually I can coax them into joining Kritiker as super-kawaii assassin/flowerboys…but, anyway, could you spare just a bit?
Crawford: Hmmpphh! I'll do no such thing!
Manx: But you look wealthy enough to spare-
Crawford: Yes, it's true, I have a lot of money, but you can't have any! *sticks tongue out*
Manx: Think of the boys' disappointment when they wake up tomorrow with nothing but gruel to eat and no presents!
Crawford: That's their problem, not mine…*starts on his way*
Manx: *glares* A thousand curses on you, sir! One day you'll regret your greed!
Crawford: Ahahaha! That'll be the day when I start to feel a fervent attraction to Mister Takatori! *image of Takatori singing 'Happy Birthday' Marilyn Monroe style; shudders*
~*~And with that, bitter Ebenezer Crawford continued onto his home, anticipating a night of relaxation and Conan O'Brien. But little did he know…tonight he would be visited by 3 spirits. Spirits that would change his perception on things and make him a better person. Or at least scare the hell out of him and make him *act* like one.
More coming soon! Heh, this is my very first Christmas fic, scary, isn't it?