A/N - The first two to review won the spot. Yay! Here they come.
Disclaimer - Ain't mine.
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It stopped.
Javert was stunned. What was that? What to do now?
He was in a sleigh much like the one belonging to Père Noël, dressed as Père Noël, on a stranger's roof. Moreover, it was a stranger's chimney- less roof.
Gavroche was giggling madly.
"Now what do you expect me to do, go down the stove pipe? This is mad."
"Well," Gavroche mused, "there must be a list somewhere."
"A list?"
"You know, of all the presents."
Gavroche turned around to the backseat of the sleigh. "There's the bag," he said, pointing.
"What? This bag is supposed to have a list of all the good little boys and girls and what they want for Christmas?" Javert grabbed one of the drawstrings.
Suddenly the bag inflated and began to float up and out of the sleigh, carrying Javert with it. "Oh mon Dieu! Put me down, put me down!" the inspector (first class) screamed.
Gavroche was dancing about the roof, clapping his hands with delight at the show before him.
The floating sack positioned Javert over the stove pipe.
"I was just kidding!" Javert shouted at it. "There is no way I can fit in there! Do you see the size of that hole? PUT ME DOWN!"
The sack began to lower him into the funnel. There was a sucking sound, a strange sensation, and Javert was falling out of the grate of the stove. The bag landed on his head, and Javert cursed loudly. There was now something in the bag.
Curious, Javert reached into the sack and pulled out a wooden crate. He slowly pried it open and looked inside. It held several bottles of medicine.
"Medicine? Who would want medicine for Christmas?" Javert shouted, forgetting where he was.
There was a thud from the next room, and a door opened, revealing a handsome young man and a girl with brown hair and eyes.
Javert shoved the medicine under the tree, grabbed the bag, and ran back to the impossibly small stove grate. In a second he was on the roof.
"Joly, who is it?" the girl asked.
Joly blinked. "Oh no! I'm sick! I'm having hallucinations! Danielle, do you happen to have a mirror?"
Danielle disappeared for a moment, then returned with a looking glass. "What did you see?"
Joly, busy scrutinizing his tongue in the mirror, didn't answer.
Danielle sighed. "I don't see how looking at your tongue helps you."
"I must be sick!" Joly cried. He wandered into another room, muttering something about germs.
Back on the roof, Javert was hovering above the stove pipe. The flying sack slowly returned him to the sleigh.
"How'd it feel to be Père Noël, monsieur?"
"Get me out of here!" Javert called to the reindeer, ignoring Gavroche.
The reindeer complied quickly, whisking the sleigh off that roof . . .
And onto the next one.
Javert blinked. "This is going to be a long night."
Again the sack lifted him into the air. This house had a chimney to receive Javert.
He reached into the bag. This time it yielded an expensive looking pen and parchment.
"Why do people want such stupid things for Christmas?" Javert asked himself . . . or the sack. He wasn't quite sure.
What he had taken for a pile of blankets on the chair in the middle of the room suddenly sat up. It was girl.
Javert groaned. "Why must I wake every resident of every house?"
The girl on the couch blinked. "Père Noël?"
"Javert. Inspector, first class."
"Why don't you have a beard?"
"Because it would take away from the glory of my sideburns. Go to sleep, mademoiselle."
"Why are your clothes so baggy?"
"Because 'Père Noël' is watching what he eats. Now, do you want these or not?" He held up the pens and parchment.
"Those aren't for me. They're for Jehan . . ." she smiled dreamily.
"I'm going to be sick," Javert said loudly.
"Ssh! You'll wake him up!"
"Mademoiselle, I am not afraid of your Jehan. Now GO TO SLEEP!"
The young lady leaned back onto the chair and closed her eyes.
"Good." Javert sighed.
He began to leave.
"Père Noël!"
"WHAT?"
"You're supposed to drink the milk."
"What?"
"The milk. You were supposed to drink the milk."
Javert growled. "I hate milk. Give me a good cup of tea any day. Milk is for children."
He stomped to the chimney.
"Oy!" he shouted at the sack.
It lifted him up the chimney again.
The sun was rising. Javert, having convinced himself it was all a dream, was considerably more cheerful.
"We're done, Gavroche! The whole thing is over!"
The sleigh shot through the clouds. "Merry Christmas to all, and to all a goodnight!" Javert called. "When I wake up, I'm going to my doctor!"
"Alright, Comet, Cupid, Dasher, Blitzen, Prancer, Dancer, Vixen, Donner - take me home!"
A moment later the sleigh stopped.
Javert looked around. "Where the ---- are we?"
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La de da. Review. Tell me what you think - on pain of . . . the flu.
If I used your name/self, tell me how I did. If you feel poorly represented, I'll try to change it.
To Kitty - you will come into the story again, in case you aren't familiar with The Santa Clause. I shall have your name in here too. Tell me if you don't want to be called "Kitty."
La Pamplemousse - Thank you for reviewing! I love your stories. Again, if you feel badly portrayed, tell me, and I shall attempt to change it.
Thank you both for reviewing! It makes me feel so very loved.
Everyone else - review I say! *growls evilly*
Disclaimer - Ain't mine.
/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\
It stopped.
Javert was stunned. What was that? What to do now?
He was in a sleigh much like the one belonging to Père Noël, dressed as Père Noël, on a stranger's roof. Moreover, it was a stranger's chimney- less roof.
Gavroche was giggling madly.
"Now what do you expect me to do, go down the stove pipe? This is mad."
"Well," Gavroche mused, "there must be a list somewhere."
"A list?"
"You know, of all the presents."
Gavroche turned around to the backseat of the sleigh. "There's the bag," he said, pointing.
"What? This bag is supposed to have a list of all the good little boys and girls and what they want for Christmas?" Javert grabbed one of the drawstrings.
Suddenly the bag inflated and began to float up and out of the sleigh, carrying Javert with it. "Oh mon Dieu! Put me down, put me down!" the inspector (first class) screamed.
Gavroche was dancing about the roof, clapping his hands with delight at the show before him.
The floating sack positioned Javert over the stove pipe.
"I was just kidding!" Javert shouted at it. "There is no way I can fit in there! Do you see the size of that hole? PUT ME DOWN!"
The sack began to lower him into the funnel. There was a sucking sound, a strange sensation, and Javert was falling out of the grate of the stove. The bag landed on his head, and Javert cursed loudly. There was now something in the bag.
Curious, Javert reached into the sack and pulled out a wooden crate. He slowly pried it open and looked inside. It held several bottles of medicine.
"Medicine? Who would want medicine for Christmas?" Javert shouted, forgetting where he was.
There was a thud from the next room, and a door opened, revealing a handsome young man and a girl with brown hair and eyes.
Javert shoved the medicine under the tree, grabbed the bag, and ran back to the impossibly small stove grate. In a second he was on the roof.
"Joly, who is it?" the girl asked.
Joly blinked. "Oh no! I'm sick! I'm having hallucinations! Danielle, do you happen to have a mirror?"
Danielle disappeared for a moment, then returned with a looking glass. "What did you see?"
Joly, busy scrutinizing his tongue in the mirror, didn't answer.
Danielle sighed. "I don't see how looking at your tongue helps you."
"I must be sick!" Joly cried. He wandered into another room, muttering something about germs.
Back on the roof, Javert was hovering above the stove pipe. The flying sack slowly returned him to the sleigh.
"How'd it feel to be Père Noël, monsieur?"
"Get me out of here!" Javert called to the reindeer, ignoring Gavroche.
The reindeer complied quickly, whisking the sleigh off that roof . . .
And onto the next one.
Javert blinked. "This is going to be a long night."
Again the sack lifted him into the air. This house had a chimney to receive Javert.
He reached into the bag. This time it yielded an expensive looking pen and parchment.
"Why do people want such stupid things for Christmas?" Javert asked himself . . . or the sack. He wasn't quite sure.
What he had taken for a pile of blankets on the chair in the middle of the room suddenly sat up. It was girl.
Javert groaned. "Why must I wake every resident of every house?"
The girl on the couch blinked. "Père Noël?"
"Javert. Inspector, first class."
"Why don't you have a beard?"
"Because it would take away from the glory of my sideburns. Go to sleep, mademoiselle."
"Why are your clothes so baggy?"
"Because 'Père Noël' is watching what he eats. Now, do you want these or not?" He held up the pens and parchment.
"Those aren't for me. They're for Jehan . . ." she smiled dreamily.
"I'm going to be sick," Javert said loudly.
"Ssh! You'll wake him up!"
"Mademoiselle, I am not afraid of your Jehan. Now GO TO SLEEP!"
The young lady leaned back onto the chair and closed her eyes.
"Good." Javert sighed.
He began to leave.
"Père Noël!"
"WHAT?"
"You're supposed to drink the milk."
"What?"
"The milk. You were supposed to drink the milk."
Javert growled. "I hate milk. Give me a good cup of tea any day. Milk is for children."
He stomped to the chimney.
"Oy!" he shouted at the sack.
It lifted him up the chimney again.
The sun was rising. Javert, having convinced himself it was all a dream, was considerably more cheerful.
"We're done, Gavroche! The whole thing is over!"
The sleigh shot through the clouds. "Merry Christmas to all, and to all a goodnight!" Javert called. "When I wake up, I'm going to my doctor!"
"Alright, Comet, Cupid, Dasher, Blitzen, Prancer, Dancer, Vixen, Donner - take me home!"
A moment later the sleigh stopped.
Javert looked around. "Where the ---- are we?"
/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\
La de da. Review. Tell me what you think - on pain of . . . the flu.
If I used your name/self, tell me how I did. If you feel poorly represented, I'll try to change it.
To Kitty - you will come into the story again, in case you aren't familiar with The Santa Clause. I shall have your name in here too. Tell me if you don't want to be called "Kitty."
La Pamplemousse - Thank you for reviewing! I love your stories. Again, if you feel badly portrayed, tell me, and I shall attempt to change it.
Thank you both for reviewing! It makes me feel so very loved.
Everyone else - review I say! *growls evilly*