This is a holiday story that I decided to write for fun. I hope you all can get into the Christmas spirit and have a joyous holiday season. Please review and merry Christmas.

Author's note: Yes, I know it is after Christmas, but we have been having internet problems and I have been unable to submit, so keep in the spirit.

Disclaimer: Any characters, organizations or other elements appearing in the games do not belong to me. Also, all animes mentioned do not belong to me; neither do their story elements, characters, or products. I have not received permission from nor do I own any of the fast food chains or other products mentioned and I do not believe that all of them cause violent diarrhea in plump police officers in festive red sweaters. But most of them do.

Chapter 1: Shopping hell

Snake gazed woefully into his mostly vacant wallet, the reverberant buzz of the other last-minute mall patrons ringing in his ears already. His eyes slowly lifted to the colorful cornucopia that was the Suncoast anime selection.

Well Hal, here I am, now I just have to figure out why the hell a man in his thirties would pay 27.99 for four episodes of a show called "Cowboy Bebop".

"Can I help you with anything thir?" Snake heard a voice say overly close behind him, causing him to shiver as warm spittle sprinkled the back of his neck like fresh snow.

"I highly recommend the "Neon Genesis Evangelion" theries for the theasoned anime fan, or if you're in the mood for a zany romp through the love affairth of a conveniently plathed nerd and several busthty babeth "Love Hina" is a perfect choith…."

Snake slowly turned to face the spitting assaulter, Scott (nametag), and gave him his best icy stare, the one that had froze terrorists in their tracks, met the eyes of his evil clone brother, and watched coolly as the House-sized nuclear-armed walking-tank Metal Gear aimed it's gauss guns at his face.

"Inuyathha! The thpectacularly thuccethful thtory of a half-demon and hith schoolgirl pal that thearch for the thhardth of…."

No effect! Impossible! Snake looked past Scott's prominent glasses and thick eyelids to see his blank, glazed-over eyes. He was totally gone, lost in his own fanboy ramble.

"Can't forget FLCL, or Fooly Cooly, or Furi Kuri, a real trip, hard to follow, but the animation thtunth you with its beauty! And…"

Snake edged to the left, Scott countered with a sidestep as well.

"Cowboy Bebop! An action thci-fi story of two bounty hunterth, a hacker, and one theriouthly hot gambler chick who'th almotht topleth in the movie and me and Kevin went through frame by frame and we think we thaw part of her nipple thith one time and…"

Cowboy Bebop? That's the one Hal wanted!

"Or maybe it's one of thoth animeth that they jutht don't draw the nipple and the boobth are just these huge flethy water baloonth but it's thtill pretty hot cuz they thtill bounce around and thtuff like real boobth…"

Snake interrupted, waiting for when Scott took a breath to slip in his sentence, "Cowboy Bebop, give me that one."

Scott faltered for a moment, thrown off by the customer's sudden intervention.

"Oh… thure," He said and grabbed the volume snake indicated.

Sergeant Bentley bit noisily into a food court McDonald's cheeseburger, chewing heartily on the rubber-like substance that had at one point, supposedly, been beef.

Goddamn pickles.

He thought, grimacing as he plucked one from between his large teeth. He picked up his napkin and wiped some stray cheese stuck in his peppered beard. From behind his dark glasses he watched as the man in the white suit with the silver suitcase sat down at one of the sticky booths with two other men. He pulled back the sleeve of his festive red sweater his wife had knitted him to reveal a silver watch. 10:00 a.m. The transaction was at eleven; he had time…

For some fries.

"No, I really really don't want it, thanks anyway Scott," Snake said, waving his left hand in front of him.

"But it cometh free with the purchath of over 24.99!" Scott insisted holding forth the official Star Trek insignia badge/short range walkie-talkie, then added, his eyes widening, "How do you know my name??"

"Just give me the movie and I'll be on my way," Snake growled, resisting the urge to draw the SOCOM at his hip and let Scott know it was time to thut….er shut up and let him leave.

"Are you… are you psychic? Oh man, I knew you guyth were real, I thought you looked like one over there in the corner with your big black trenth coat and mullet and the funky bandanna oh man I jutht knew it wath true! I mean I read in thith one…."

"Scott?"

"And the guyth head exthploded! Jutht like that! I mean, you can't do that can you? Cuz that would be wicked-awethome!"

"SCOTT."

"Yeth?"

"Nametag, now ring me up."

"Name wha- oh… of courthe, here you go thir, enjoy your product," Scott said, pinning the insignia on Snake's trench coat.

"Thanks," Snake said, forking over the money and walking out.

Finally, shopping's all done, beam me up Scotty.

Snake took a bite of his Christmas Eve dinner and winced. Overcooked orange chicken and soggy rice was not exactly his idea of a nice holiday meal, but he had to go with what he could afford, which at this point, was about nil. He was about to take another painful bite when a fat white man in a nice, festive red sweater ran past him, his gratuitous gut connecting with Snake's back and knocking the heavily-sauced hunk of "chicken" into his lap.

"S'cuse me," The man grunted as he passed and then waddled his way toward the restroom. That was the last straw. As you can imagine, being the leader of an anti-metal gear terrorist organization is noble and exciting, but the pay is rather… modest. Snake and Hal scraped enough together to keep themselves going and pay the bills, but they had only the necessary. The Christmas season didn't make it easy. Snake had been hording up his cigarette money for a present for Hal, a feat that had been about as easy and comfortable as putting up Christmas lights at four below in boxers (a feat which Snake had also achieved after a considerably large amount of eggnog). Secondly, he had run out of dry-cleaning money for the month, so clothes went unwashed. Plus, he didn't have that many pairs of pants, these were his warmest, and now they had a bright orange stain to the left of the groin courtesy of mister festively dressed fat guy with diarrhea.

Jesus Christ…Jesus Christ…Yeah Jesus Christ! Why the hell do I have to buy a bunch of useless shit because God knocked up some poor guy's wife and you got born in a barn?? Dammit, dammit to hell with this, to hell with Christmas, and to hell with you!

Snake stood up and grabbed several napkins. He then proceeded to attempt to scrape the coagulated orange sludge from his groin.

"Eww! mommy look!" a little boy yelled and pointed at Snake, who now appeared to be rigorously rubbing himself behind his trench coat.

Sergeant Bentley clenched painfully as the endless loop of Santa Claus is comin' to town whispered through the men's restroom and what felt to be Campbell's extra-hearty vegetable soup erupted noisily from his rear. He groaned and burped loudly. And, as his sizeable buttocks prepared for the second wave, he immediately regretted putting taco bell fire sauce and zesty nacho "cheese" on his McDonald's French fries after those three hamburgers.

I can't believe she maced me. Snake thought, staggering semi-blindly into the men's restroom where, judging by the sounds, there was a rabid badger in the third stall. Snake disregarded the disturbing roars and splatters that mingled with the repeating cheery singing of the British boy's chorus addition of Santa Claus is comin' to town and splashed some cool water in his eyes from the sink. It was mildly refreshing, but he burn and blurriness remained. Snake reached for a refreshing cigarette that would wind him down. He didn't have any; of course, his cigarettes were now a Cowboy Bebop DVD, which he doubted would have the same relaxing effect if smoked. Snake tipped his head back and tried to listen to the music when a surprisingly loud fart followed by Mr. Festive's yell of "Oh shit!" interrupted him.

Indeed. Thought Snake.

Bentley had pulled back his sleeve again after a several wipes to see the time on his nice silver watch. 11:03.

"Oh shit!"

I missed the transaction! Oh God! I've got to call the team in!

Outside, Dick's radio hissed to life,

"Dick? Dick?" said the panicked voice of Sergeant Bentley.

"Yes sir?" the heavily armored SWAT member replied.

"I've missed the transaction due to… complications (at this point a loud, somewhat juicy fart was powerfully audible over the radio) and you guys need to make the arrest."

"Have you identified the suspects?"

"Negative (plunk) oh… God, look, just arrest who looks scared or suspicious when you guys bust in."

"Roger."

"All right, I'll accompany you when I can. (bbbblllt) Ah, Jesus Christ…"

Dick turned to the four other members of the team.

"Team! Arm up! Everyone affirmative?"

"Yes sir!" said Johnson.

"Affirmative!" said Peter.

"Armed and ready!" said Frank.

"Let's rock n' roll!" yelled Mark (he didn't fit in).

"God Mark, you're such a fag, (faking retardation or homosexuality, or a combination of the two) Urrrr let'th wock and woll boyth!!" mocked Johnson, his performance quickly followed by the laughter of the other members of the team as they grabbed their assault rifles.

Suspect? Arrest? Snake thought as he heard the radio conversation from the increasingly pungent stall.

"What's going on?" Snake asked the thin plastic door from a safe distance.

"Huh? Who's there?" grunted sergeant Bentley.

"I can help, what's going on? Who's getting arrested?"

"You were eavesdropping on a confidential FBI radio conversation?"

"Uh…. Look, I just want to help, we can discuss the particulars later."

"Freeze!"

"…….." Snake waited, staring at the closed stall door.

"……."

"……"

"…….."

"Well? Are you coming out?"

"Hang on, piece of toilet paper's stuck in my ass."

"Ah, don't you think it's time for a courtesy flush?"

"Yeah, probably, but when I get out of here your under arrest!"(flush)

"Well, I….."

But Snake was interrupted as the rhythmic thudding of machinegun fire erupted from the food court.

Author's note: Yeah, I know it's kind of stupid, but I wanted to write a holiday fic and it's my first attempt at humor. Please review, flame if you must, still, I know it's kind of dumb so you don't need to scream it in my face; constructive criticism and other comments though, are greatly appreciated.