Title: Yule Time Cheer
Author: Hellcat
Disclaimer: Nothing is mine.
Summary: Lets blow some stuff up, get annoyed with our heroes, and see how far it gets us, shall we?
Chapter Seven:
BOOM!
Cassandra stood over a still-smoking body of Oogie Boogie, looking quite pleased with herself. She hadn't killed him, for that would have required far more hairspray, but she'd managed to misuse the vast aerosol cans marked "flexible hold" and "super hold" in the time it took for Oogie to finish his stupid Boogie Song.
She was now examining her cell, hoping to find some indication of her whereabouts. All she knew was that she was somewhere cold, and sickeningly cheerful-turned-evil. She shook her last can of half-empty hairspray and prayed that there weren't anymore of those odd bag-people lurking around. She doubted "Mrs. S. C." kept a backup supply hidden in her closet.
"Okay, if I were a conniving, velvet-wearing, curly-haired, magic-boy…where would I be." she muttered, irritably. "Gonna throttle that prat when I see 'im."
"CASSANDRA!" someone shouted. She recognized the voice immediately. It was Francesca.
"We know you blew something up! Come and get us!" added Vanessa. Nodding, and smirking, the eldest Monroe sister decided to head in the direction of the voices.
"Just 'ope I'm not 'earing things again." she murmured, shaking her head.
She walked freely through the hallways, making the little black-skinned creatures cower in fear, and shook up the hairspray again. She examined the door that separated her from her shrieking sisters and sighed.
"Get back! Am blowing up the door!" she shouted. She heard scuffling and various objections from a Bernard-sounding voice, before she 'fired up' – as it were – her makeshift flame-thrower. It burst into flames, catching a little easier than she imagined it would, and quickly and efficiently burned itself out. The door lay in ashes before her when she was finished. "And that is why we all should carry Zippos." She stated.
She peered into the room and gasped in surprise at what she saw. Three pointy-eared children cowered behind an equally pointy-eared Bernard, while the two Monroe sisters hid behind Charlie Calvin. Cassandra suddenly felt the need to faint or curse, or perhaps both. Yes, both seemed like a good idea.
"Bollix!" she exclaimed, pointing. "Elves!"
"Uh – yeah, we forgot to warn her about that." said Vanessa, shaking her head.
"How'd you escape?" asked Bernard, rushing forward as if to embrace her. She placed a hand on his chest, keeping him at arms length, and raised her eyebrows at her sisters.
"I'm mad at you, curly-locks. Will deal with you later. Right now, all I wanna know is; what in the name of black lipstick are we doing here?!" she asked.
"We've gotta save Christmas." announced Francesca, puffing out her chest as though she were Wonder Woman or some such nonsense.
"R-i-i-i-ght. Can we take a direct flight back to reality or do we need to make a connection somewhere?"
Hadn't Scott Calvin said something similar to Bernard when he'd first gotten there?
"What happened to the Boogie Man?" asked Curtis, eyes wide. Cassandra looked at the boy-elf before her and smirked. Did she dare tell them? Of course! She was a bad-ass and she wanted everyone to know it.
"He was getting fresh, so…" she paused, cracked her knuckles, and winked at her sisters. "I set him on fire."
"Is he dead?" asked Quentin.
"Don't know. Perhaps. 'Ee wasn't moving when I left…"
"We've got to get to Santa and Mrs. Clause." said Bernard. For the moment he was going to ignore the fact that she was mad at him for no reason, and instead focus on the task at hand.
"How about this. You and the kits can save Santa and Mrs. Clause, and me and mah sisters can take off?" suggested Cassandra, eyes narrowed.
"What? You can't be serious!" exclaimed Charlie. Cassandra shot the Calvin boy an evil glare, but he did not silence himself as he usually did. "We've got to save my dad!"
"Have fun." was Cassandra's response, waving a hand in his direction.
"Cassy, you've got to help us." said Bernard, eyes wide. She arched an eyebrow at him before she slapped him hard across the face.
"Right, because helping people has worked out so well for me in the past?! I helped your curly-haired ass and I got brought to this hell-hole! I helped you guys escape, so I've done my good deed for the day. I'm outa here."
A red hand print began to form on Bernard's cheek, but he ignored it.
"Cassy," he began. "what happened to you?"
"Later." She snapped, and grabbed a poker out of the fireplace. She held it at staff's length in front of her, as though she intended to protect herself from them. Them – her friends! "Come on, Vanny. Frankie." She said.
"We're not going." said Vanessa, crossing her arms.
"They need our help." said Francesca.
"FINE! Then I'll go myself!" screamed Cassandra.
She seethed, fury written all over her face, and she knew in an instant that she was alone. Oh well. Her sisters wanted to help the elf-people and the Son of Santa – it was their choice. No one had been all that concerned for her welfare when she'd been violated by the burlap bag-man, nor did they even ask her how she'd managed to escape! What difference did it make to them? She was the oldest sister. She was the girl with the plan.
She was the one with the wicked clothes, killer makeup, stellar taste in music, and the invulnerable personality. She didn't cry about boys, she made them cry about her! She didn't get mad, she got even! Cassandra Monroe recalled the events of earlier that week, when she'd been dumped. She'd cried that time. Why? She hadn't even really liked him all that much. No more than the other boys she'd dated, at least. It wasn't as though he was the love of her life. Had she gotten soft?
She turned her back on the group and stalked out of the room. She didn't want to look at her sisters' faces, so worried and sad over her behavior. She didn't want to look at Bernard, who seemed to be watching her with a more tender eye than usual. She didn't want to look at the elf-children, with their round eyes and innocent faces. She wanted to go home.
How?
She felt a hand on her shoulder, warm even through the velvet, and without thinking she spun around. Pale, ice-like eyes met deep, chocolate ones. What did he want? It was his fault she'd been brought there to begin with.
"Please, Cassy, help us?" he asked. She scowled, furious with herself. She'd gotten soft all right. Softer than marshmallow fluff after being in the microwave for twenty minutes.
"Fine." she muttered. Marshmallow fluff. Eyes narrowed, face devoid of expression, she agreed to help them. She agreed because she didn't know what else to do.
~ * ~
"Mister Oogie Boogie! What happened to you?" asked one of the Trolls. His name was Spike, if Oogie remembered correctly. He chuckled and examined the charred front of his body. Cassandra had set him on fire.
"Nothing. Nothing at all." he sneered. Was Spike accurate in assuming that Oogie was pleased with his current state? How could that be? He'd been set on fire!
"Pardon my asking, sir," began the Troll. "but should not you be angry with the girl?"
"Not at all, Spike." said Oogie. "You see, I could have easily taken her lighter away, and removed the hairspray from the shelves. I wanted to see what she would do."
"But, sir!" cried Spike. "She's freed the Head Elf and his Second!"
"I know." chuckled Oogie. "I hoped she would."
"Spike is not understanding, sir." said the Troll.
"You wouldn't, would you?" snapped Oogie. "My plan is far too complicated for you to understand."
Of course Oogie had been planning on all of that. In fact, things were going exactly according to ingenious plan. If things progressed, he would not only have his own Boogie Realm, but a Boogie Queen as well.
End of Chapter Seven.
Author: Hellcat
Disclaimer: Nothing is mine.
Summary: Lets blow some stuff up, get annoyed with our heroes, and see how far it gets us, shall we?
Chapter Seven:
BOOM!
Cassandra stood over a still-smoking body of Oogie Boogie, looking quite pleased with herself. She hadn't killed him, for that would have required far more hairspray, but she'd managed to misuse the vast aerosol cans marked "flexible hold" and "super hold" in the time it took for Oogie to finish his stupid Boogie Song.
She was now examining her cell, hoping to find some indication of her whereabouts. All she knew was that she was somewhere cold, and sickeningly cheerful-turned-evil. She shook her last can of half-empty hairspray and prayed that there weren't anymore of those odd bag-people lurking around. She doubted "Mrs. S. C." kept a backup supply hidden in her closet.
"Okay, if I were a conniving, velvet-wearing, curly-haired, magic-boy…where would I be." she muttered, irritably. "Gonna throttle that prat when I see 'im."
"CASSANDRA!" someone shouted. She recognized the voice immediately. It was Francesca.
"We know you blew something up! Come and get us!" added Vanessa. Nodding, and smirking, the eldest Monroe sister decided to head in the direction of the voices.
"Just 'ope I'm not 'earing things again." she murmured, shaking her head.
She walked freely through the hallways, making the little black-skinned creatures cower in fear, and shook up the hairspray again. She examined the door that separated her from her shrieking sisters and sighed.
"Get back! Am blowing up the door!" she shouted. She heard scuffling and various objections from a Bernard-sounding voice, before she 'fired up' – as it were – her makeshift flame-thrower. It burst into flames, catching a little easier than she imagined it would, and quickly and efficiently burned itself out. The door lay in ashes before her when she was finished. "And that is why we all should carry Zippos." She stated.
She peered into the room and gasped in surprise at what she saw. Three pointy-eared children cowered behind an equally pointy-eared Bernard, while the two Monroe sisters hid behind Charlie Calvin. Cassandra suddenly felt the need to faint or curse, or perhaps both. Yes, both seemed like a good idea.
"Bollix!" she exclaimed, pointing. "Elves!"
"Uh – yeah, we forgot to warn her about that." said Vanessa, shaking her head.
"How'd you escape?" asked Bernard, rushing forward as if to embrace her. She placed a hand on his chest, keeping him at arms length, and raised her eyebrows at her sisters.
"I'm mad at you, curly-locks. Will deal with you later. Right now, all I wanna know is; what in the name of black lipstick are we doing here?!" she asked.
"We've gotta save Christmas." announced Francesca, puffing out her chest as though she were Wonder Woman or some such nonsense.
"R-i-i-i-ght. Can we take a direct flight back to reality or do we need to make a connection somewhere?"
Hadn't Scott Calvin said something similar to Bernard when he'd first gotten there?
"What happened to the Boogie Man?" asked Curtis, eyes wide. Cassandra looked at the boy-elf before her and smirked. Did she dare tell them? Of course! She was a bad-ass and she wanted everyone to know it.
"He was getting fresh, so…" she paused, cracked her knuckles, and winked at her sisters. "I set him on fire."
"Is he dead?" asked Quentin.
"Don't know. Perhaps. 'Ee wasn't moving when I left…"
"We've got to get to Santa and Mrs. Clause." said Bernard. For the moment he was going to ignore the fact that she was mad at him for no reason, and instead focus on the task at hand.
"How about this. You and the kits can save Santa and Mrs. Clause, and me and mah sisters can take off?" suggested Cassandra, eyes narrowed.
"What? You can't be serious!" exclaimed Charlie. Cassandra shot the Calvin boy an evil glare, but he did not silence himself as he usually did. "We've got to save my dad!"
"Have fun." was Cassandra's response, waving a hand in his direction.
"Cassy, you've got to help us." said Bernard, eyes wide. She arched an eyebrow at him before she slapped him hard across the face.
"Right, because helping people has worked out so well for me in the past?! I helped your curly-haired ass and I got brought to this hell-hole! I helped you guys escape, so I've done my good deed for the day. I'm outa here."
A red hand print began to form on Bernard's cheek, but he ignored it.
"Cassy," he began. "what happened to you?"
"Later." She snapped, and grabbed a poker out of the fireplace. She held it at staff's length in front of her, as though she intended to protect herself from them. Them – her friends! "Come on, Vanny. Frankie." She said.
"We're not going." said Vanessa, crossing her arms.
"They need our help." said Francesca.
"FINE! Then I'll go myself!" screamed Cassandra.
She seethed, fury written all over her face, and she knew in an instant that she was alone. Oh well. Her sisters wanted to help the elf-people and the Son of Santa – it was their choice. No one had been all that concerned for her welfare when she'd been violated by the burlap bag-man, nor did they even ask her how she'd managed to escape! What difference did it make to them? She was the oldest sister. She was the girl with the plan.
She was the one with the wicked clothes, killer makeup, stellar taste in music, and the invulnerable personality. She didn't cry about boys, she made them cry about her! She didn't get mad, she got even! Cassandra Monroe recalled the events of earlier that week, when she'd been dumped. She'd cried that time. Why? She hadn't even really liked him all that much. No more than the other boys she'd dated, at least. It wasn't as though he was the love of her life. Had she gotten soft?
She turned her back on the group and stalked out of the room. She didn't want to look at her sisters' faces, so worried and sad over her behavior. She didn't want to look at Bernard, who seemed to be watching her with a more tender eye than usual. She didn't want to look at the elf-children, with their round eyes and innocent faces. She wanted to go home.
How?
She felt a hand on her shoulder, warm even through the velvet, and without thinking she spun around. Pale, ice-like eyes met deep, chocolate ones. What did he want? It was his fault she'd been brought there to begin with.
"Please, Cassy, help us?" he asked. She scowled, furious with herself. She'd gotten soft all right. Softer than marshmallow fluff after being in the microwave for twenty minutes.
"Fine." she muttered. Marshmallow fluff. Eyes narrowed, face devoid of expression, she agreed to help them. She agreed because she didn't know what else to do.
~ * ~
"Mister Oogie Boogie! What happened to you?" asked one of the Trolls. His name was Spike, if Oogie remembered correctly. He chuckled and examined the charred front of his body. Cassandra had set him on fire.
"Nothing. Nothing at all." he sneered. Was Spike accurate in assuming that Oogie was pleased with his current state? How could that be? He'd been set on fire!
"Pardon my asking, sir," began the Troll. "but should not you be angry with the girl?"
"Not at all, Spike." said Oogie. "You see, I could have easily taken her lighter away, and removed the hairspray from the shelves. I wanted to see what she would do."
"But, sir!" cried Spike. "She's freed the Head Elf and his Second!"
"I know." chuckled Oogie. "I hoped she would."
"Spike is not understanding, sir." said the Troll.
"You wouldn't, would you?" snapped Oogie. "My plan is far too complicated for you to understand."
Of course Oogie had been planning on all of that. In fact, things were going exactly according to ingenious plan. If things progressed, he would not only have his own Boogie Realm, but a Boogie Queen as well.
End of Chapter Seven.
