All right. Let's see how this fares. (It's currently the 23rd. Let's see how much I can do in one night). So hang on for typos and the inevitable lack of humor or quality. Happy holidays you guys.

By the way, any page breaks I do don't show up in the story, so I had to improvise with the (This is totally a page break)

And really, the idea bit me in the face after putting up with a bunch of OC obsessed floor-mates over at college. If any of you guys are obsessed with the OC, don't take offense. Or if you like the idea of squashing all three holidays into an ill-contrived single 'super holiday', don't take offense. And, notice, as to really not try to offend anyone, or their holiday beliefs, I made this the sloppiest party ever, with Yuffie and Aerith having no clue, but wanting to get into the 'Christmakah spirit'.

I only own 'Greg' for the most part.

And away we go! Hope you enjoy!

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"All right, so are we ready to go?" 'Greg' asked, glancing up at the calendar. Surprisingly, even though not even an entire day had actually passed in the continuity of the story, the calendar now read December twenty-third. She'd have to make up her mind soon or else they'd miss their chance altogether.

But Tifa still seemed to be waiting on something, glancing expectantly towards the door, eyebrows down, looking rather agitated.

"No, not yet. I'm waiting for the catalyst to get our story rolling." She replied, sighing, tapping her foot slowly.

"What kind of catalyst?"

"You know, like an invitation to the party or something. I can't just expect to show up without being told where we're having the party, or what kind of genre it is. Though I do happen to have my certain suspicions....."

"Well we don't have much time left. Well, I do, you don't. My holiday is over and done with. You've got like..... two days?" 'Greg' put in with a shrug, glancing back towards the calendar again. "So let's try to get the ball a'rollin' here..... Achem..... Boy, do I ever wonder when AVALANCHE is going to send Tifa the invitation for their annual Christmas get-together."

And, behold, through the glory of 'Greg''s ever advancing use of his inexplicable powers, a letter, sealed in a festive, bright red envelope suddenly slid under the door.

Tifa made her way over to retrieve it, and then opened the door up, looking for whoever could have sent it. However, as she had half-expected, the streets were empty; devoid of life.

At least the plot had put her back in Nibelheim.

She grinned as she made her way back over to the bar, sliding her thumb under the sealed flap to tear open the envelope, pulling out the glossy, embossed letter inside.

"Good going. Now let's see what we've-" She paused as she read it, hands tightening into fists, knuckles whitening as the paper crackled and wrinkled in her suddenly crushing grasp. "No..... No!"

"What? What's wrong?" 'Greg' asked apprehensively, coming up behind her, glancing over her shoulder to try and find out what had gotten Tifa so riled up again. For all he knew, it was probably one of those situations where Shinra would try to wreck everything up or something of the sort.

Though, he needn't really have asked, as, in big, glitter-glue covered letters, his answer awaited.

-You are cordially invited to attend the first annual Christmakah party, to be held at-

'Greg' was understandably flummoxed.

As well he should be.

"So..... What's Christmakah?" He asked after a minute, seeing the scowl on Tifa's face, as she tore her gaze away from the note, claret eyes flashing as she seethed quietly.

"People trying to be PC, I guess, and mash all three December holidays into one big mess. Yuffie's been watching The O.C., and everything they do, she simply has to emulate." She sighed, rolling her eyes as she crumpled the invitation up.

".....I don't get it." 'Greg' muttered, shaking his head, eyes wide and sort of deer-in-traffic-like. Did that actually mean there were Jewish people in AVALANCHE? Oh man, he could have totally, totally, struck common ground with at least one of them back when he was a haughty superesque-villain.

Tifa seemed conflicted over whether or not she should actually accept the invitation, shooting glances over at 'Greg', apprehension weighing heavily over her. Finally she shook her head in defeat, realizing that she had said she would deal with every cliché. This was bound to either be one that would try to be 'humorous', or would try to deliver some sort of 'message'.

"Let's just go and get it over with. Grab your dreidel, change back into your 'bad guy' outfit, and let's get going."

'Greg' dropped the dreidel into his erstwhile Burlap sack, then ran upstairs, reemerging a few minutes later decked out in his white pants and duster, along with a blue and silver Yarmulke on. Though he left the sneakers on, not wanting to run through the snow in bare feet, lest his tootsies get cold when they would have to inevitably make a run for it.

Tifa was waiting for him with a perturbed expression on her face, shaking her head, as she extended her arm, waiting for him to take hold of it.

"So, chief, what's the idea for keeping this from being a cliché?" He asked as he looped his arm around hers, bringing his thumb and middle finger together, ready to work his magic.

"Well, if you aren't enough of a distraction, I'm sure I can just get really drunk, and rude, and threaten Cid with a half-empty bottle of Jagermeister. That hasn't happened. Well, not lately anyhow." She shrugged, smiling grimly, lips pulled tight over her teeth, as if she were considering as a last ditch effort.

"Well, okay, but why not let me threaten to smash somebody with half a bottle of Jager? I want to be able to sleep at night without fear of you trying to harvest my organs or something."

"Deal! By the way, we're going for Costa del Sol this time around..... as if that weren't obvious." She nodded with a slight roll of her eyes, smiling and holding up her full bottle of Jagermeister, the seal already broken in anticipation of their ruthless shenanigans to come in case things got out of hand.

And as 'Greg' snapped his fingers he figured that things would get out of hand. Because that was the only consistent thing going for them lately.

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As they found themselves looking up at the gaudily-colored Villa, their arms still linked, 'Greg' was immediately having doubts. Extremely severe ones. Ones that made his bowels twist in on themselves and clench up with fear, and.....

.....Ew. Let's not continue with the extent of 'Greg''s fear. Let's just leave it with the fact that he's pretty damn unsettled.

But hey, wouldn't you be? The outside of the Villa was decorated like something out of every epileptic's worst nightmare, with flashing red, green, white, black, yellow, and blue lights on almost every available surface that lights could possibly hang from. And even a few surfaces that weren't meant to have lights on them.

Through the window, they could see Yuffie prancing by, wearing something that looked like a miniature version of a Santa hat on the crown of her head.

The sight was enough to make their courage quickly evaporate, and they glanced at each other, unlinking their arms, from the 'hop', though they stood closely together on the doorstep, marveling at the multi-colored horror before them.

Casting him a wary glance, Tifa held up the bottle of Jager, shaking it slightly, causing it to slosh around in the dark green bottle, before offering it to them. They'd need some extra, fool-hardy courage if they were going to be able to come out of this train-wreck alive.

However, just as he unscrewed the cap and brought it to his lips, the front door opened and to reveal Yuffie, wearing a t-shirt with the star of David on it, smiling brightly at it.

"Ooh! You guys are under the Mistletoe!" She squealed pointing up, causing both of them to look up warily, seeing the green beast hanging there, red ribbons tacked onto it.

"Sorry. Mistletoe is a Christmas thing." 'Greg' replied almost immediately, lowering his head and pointing at his Yarmulke, smirking at having the upper hand against Yuffie's Christmakah campaign.

"Nuh-uh! It's totally a Christmakah thing! See for yourself!"

Rolling his eyes, 'Greg' reached up and pulled it down, looking it over skeptically.

".....This is a Matzoh ball. You just dyed it green." He said flatly, one eyebrow raised in disgust.

"So there you go! It's a Mistletoe for this holiday."

"It's not a real holiday." 'Greg' sighed, taking a bite out of the Matzoh ball, immediately making a face, swallowing it down with a swig of Jager. "And it's a terrible Matzoh ball to boot."

Not staying long enough to get a good look at Yuffie's absolutely crushed expression, they brushed past her into the Villa, seeing the others already all settled around, in all their happy little groups.

You all know what I'm talking about. Cid and Shera. Barret, Marlene, and Elmyra. Nanaki with..... some female Nanaki. The two components of the Cait Sith robot. Cloud and Aerith who has somehow managed to come back to life through some ill-contrived and not even explained reason. And I'm sure Vincent was sulking in the corner. By himself. As always. With the broken parts of the animatronic Lucrecia figure he had dug up, so he wouldn't have to show up dateless to this little soiree.

Oh yeah. The gang was all there.

And looking rather miserable with the festivities to boot.

"I don't see why we couldn't have just had a normal Christmas party. Like we've been doing every consecutive year before this one." Cid griped as he took a swig of his eggnog, sighing tiredly, while Shera patted him on the back soothingly.

"I told you guys already! We have to be understanding to those with mixed families, or those of us that don't celebrate Christmas. Like Barret. I'm know he celebrates Kwanzaa!" The young ninja chirped as she bounded back into the room, beaming excitedly.

However, her comment was met with nothing but silence, and all eyes immediately turned towards Barret, getting ready to face his annual 'Christmas Tirade'. But it was to be expected. After all, being quite possibly the only African American Final Fantasy hero of all time, he was bound to run into all sorts of ill-contrived cliches and stereotypes that were set up to ensnare even the staunchest black characters.

I mean, come on. Corn rows? Ebonics? Tattoo? Bling? Has a gun(arm)? Angry at the government? Likes to swear?

That's the most horrifying stereotype ever. Really its just..... beyond appalling.

And poor Barret was once again forced to explain his religious beliefs to Yuffie. Again. In the most eloquent way he could possibly manage.

"Aw Hell naw, bee-yatch! Jees' 'cuz I'm black, don't mean I celebrate Kwanzaa! How come your foo' ass keep on askin' me that ev'ry year, huh?! Shit guys, ain't none of yas ever met a black man before?! Ain't none of ya never seen a black guy before?!"

Yuffie rolled her eyes, still grinning dopily, paying no mind to the look of pure rage that Barret was fixing her with.

"Of course! I watched Oz, like, all the time. And they sure arrest a lot of them on Law and Order. So I know a thing or two about-"

Yuffie never got a chance to finish however, as Barret had thrown her through the window, and immediately returned to his seat next to his daughter, nibbling at a Gingerbread cookie, as if nothing had happened.

Poor Barret. Poor, poor, Barret.

Aerith, at seeing the primary hostess of the party now unconscious in the snow bank outside the Villa, stood up and clapped her hands to get everybody's attention, grinning broadly.

"O.....kay. Well, now let's get onto the fun part! Let's all put on our Yarmuclaus!" She chirped, busting out the Yarmukles that looked like little Santa hats. She made her rounds around the room, placing one on everyone's head, though when she got to 'Greg' and Tifa, she stopped.

"Hi guys!" She grinned, reaching up to put the Yarmuclaus on his head, though she stopped, tilting her head and narrowing her eyes at him. "Waaaaait a minute. Aren't you one of those ridiculously bossed out characters from the last Action-Adventure 'fic we were all in?" She asked a bit warily.

"Not like you'd know. Zing!" He shouted happily, high-fiving Tifa as he burst out laughing, while she just offered a knowing smile.

Oh 'Greg', you comedian you. Already starting with the zingers that will be sure to ruin the party for everyone.

"Well, I was supposed to have come back in the second to last chapter in that one." She sniffed dourly, frowning at him. "Besides, what was your name again? Wasn't it like, a state or something? Wasn't it Monta-"

"'Greg'!" He cut in hurriedly, clamping his hand over her mouth, glancing around uneasily. "My name is 'Greg'. With the two little quote things around it, mind you."

Whew! Way to dodge the bullet on that one 'Greg'.

"Yeah. He's pretty much reformed now. So I brought him along to the, ah, party." Tifa nodded.

"But I could have sworn his name was something really drawn out and bizarre. Are you sure it wasn't Monta-"

"Yes!" They all but shouted back at her, trying to keep her from saying it.

Aerith looked a little crushed at getting shouted at, and averted her eyes, sighing lowly.

"Sorry. Well, here are you Yarmulclaus." She held them up, still not looking at them, though they both refused.

"Why are you even having a Christmakah party? Nobody in here is actually Jewish, are they?" 'Greg' sighed in exasperation, shaking his head, looking over at the menorah that was set out, with little Christmas tree candles in it.

"Well..... I think the moogle robot is." Aerith grinned, nodding happily.

"It's a robot." He replied flatly, shaking his head.

"Well you are! And you're not a robot! Besdies, you're all decked out for Christmakah anyway, showing up with a Santa Claus bag." Aerith replied chipperly, her green eyes sparkling merrily.

"It's not a Santa Claus bag. It was a kidnapping sack for a while, but now I just put random things into it, which might be useful at a later time." He explained dourly.

"Well, we're going to have a real Christmakah after all! Now feel free to help yourselves to the refreshments!"

'Greg' and Tifa dourly made their way over to the table, where 'Greg' looked down, recoiling in horror.

"What kind of crap is this?!" He demanded loudly, causing Aerith to come bounding over, taking a look at what he was so upset about. She tipped her head, examining it, before she looked up at him.

"Oh, silly, it's just the refreshments!"

"They're bacon-wrapped pork chops!" He shot back, rolling his 'glow-in-the-freakin'-dark' eyes. "You could hardly be less Kosher than that!"

But Aerith was unfazed, waving it off.

"But its Christmakah you silly goose! That sort of thing doesn't matter!"

'Greg' opened his mouth to say something, but Tifa dragged him away, over toward the punch bowl, where she filled a large cup full of Jagermeister before adding a little bit of Eggnog to it.

She took a large gulp of it, barely even blinking as the alcohol burned its way down her throat. The way this 'fic was going, they were going to need a lot of it to endure the proceedings.

"Look, just calm down, and give me your coat." She whispered sagely, glancing around at the others, as if looking to see if anyone was on to them yet.

"Why do you need me to do that?" He asked, a bit flummoxed by her request.

"So I can put it on and then we can make a run for it. It'll be harder for them to catch us if we sort of blend in with the snow."

Way to go Tifa! All those hours of watching the History Channel really paid off for you!

'Greg' nodded eagerly, and had slid one arm out of his coat, when a loud bang was heard, and the punch bowl suddenly exploded, spraying slightly warm Eggnog all over the two of them.

Tifa sighed, blinked some of the Eggnog out of her eyes, and took a sip of her drink before glancing around the room, seeing everyone staring at them in confusion.

"Who the crap just blew up the punch bowl?" She asked flatly, reaching up and wringing some of the Eggnog from her now-saturated bangs.

"Take a wild guess." A snooty, haughty, arrogant, (yet alarmingly sexy) voice chuckled, causing everyone to look towards the shattered window that Yuffie had been thrown out of, seeing Rufus standing there, flanked by the Turks, and a few other Shinra execs.

Yeah, it was a pretty big window.

"Damn it, Rufus! I'll call the cops!" Cloud threatened menacingly, getting to his feet and pulling out his cell phone, shaking his head derisively all the while.

"What?!" Rufus asked innocently, his words slightly slurred.

They had no idea why any of them had actually showed up. But then again, after a few too many Martinis at the Annual Shinra Holiday Party, the alcohol went to their heads, and they always went looking for AVALANCHE to stir up some trouble; or at least shoot a few Punch Bowls.

.....And it always just so happened that AVALANCHE would be having their own holiday party on the exact same night the Shinra Corporation was. And the locations of their respective parties would be within easy walking distance of one another, so they could easily stagger over to start some shit.

.....And after such ruthless shenanigans, the Annual 'Shinra Apology Letter' would make it into each and every AVALANCHE member's mailbox, expressing regret for their behavior, the massive amount of property damage and/or bodily harm incurred, and the reassurance that it would never happen again.

Even though it was still happening to this very day.

"Don' be such a jerk Strife! We're jus' having some fun! I mean- I mean what's more fun than hasslin' stupid losers like you guys! Celebrating Christmakah?! That's the stupidest thing that anyone's done tonight! And I mean, I already vomited into a fish tank, and took a piss on Scarlet when she passed out!" He burst out laughing at his statement, gleeful at 'putting AVALANCHE in their place' and staggered backwards slightly, gripping onto the window sill to keep himself up, laughing even harder at his near-fall. "Oh, oh man you guys! I'm such a..... Hammered hammerhead!"

As he dissolved into more gleeful fits of drunken laughter, he took another shot at them, hitting the Star of David affixed atop their 'Christmakah Tree', shattering it and spraying yellow glass all over them, sending most of them cowering, and causing all of the lights to short out.

Tifa and 'Greg', however, stayed near the refreshments table with bored disinterested looks on their faces, still dripping with Eggnog, drinking.

Heidigger was leaning on the window sill as well, slapping Rufus on the back, laughing loudly with his obnoxious horse laugh.

"Man, AVALANCHE! You guys..... You guys suck! I mean, you suck worse than that guy that made the Spy robot! I mean, he sucked for coming up with such a crappy robot, and you guys suck more for being suckered into hanging out with him! I mean, what kind of losers befriend a robot?!" He cackled at them, while Reeve, who was standing behind him, looked crestfallen, as did Cait Sith.

"I know you're drunk, but your words still hurt, ya know." He sniffed sadly, looking away.

"Oh! And remember that one Christmas, when I decided I was going to end all of you guys?! So I inadvertently dressed as Santa Claus, and came down your chimney?! And then- then you thought I was the real Santa Claus?! Holy crap you guys! You guys suck! I mean, you suck worse than that guy that made the Spy robot! I mean, he-"

"You said that already." Barret sighed, rolling his eyes. And people sometimes wondered why he was so obsessed with taking down the Shinra Corporation. His main problem was obviously their drunken heckling...... and the whole gun-arm thing.

"So?! You all better- better listen to me! Because I'm the President, and that means that I get to..... to come in and make fun of how much you guys all suck! And show off my new Red Rider BB-Gun!"

Ah yes, the Red Rider BB-Gun. He got it in the gift exchange.

Why, if things went wrong, would 'Greg' have a use for that eye patch he swiped from Nanaki in the third chapter?

Maybe.

"Guys, do something! We have to end this in a mildly humorous fashion, and keep with the spirit of Christmakah!" Aerith cried in horror, looking around for anyone to do something to keep Rufus at bay, as the President rolled sloppily over the window sill, landing in a heap, giggling loudly. Somebody had to stop him and his BB-Gun. Nobody deserved to have their eye shot out.

"But the author isn't funny! What makes you think any of us can do something like that, given what we've got to work with here?!" Cid demanded.

Tifa and 'Greg' exchanged glances, shrugging. Tifa reached down into the Burlap sack at their feet, and pulled out the Dreidel, handing it to him.

He merely sighed and shook his head, making his way over to Rufus.

Time to save the day when absolutely nobody else can. Like all great Original Characters.

Way to live the dream, buddy!

He took a seat opposite of Rufus, and set the Dreidel down between them, waiting for the president to stop laughing. It was high time for some (albeit belated) Chanukah action in a 'fic.

Go 'Greg', go!

"Okay, since we need to end this up quick, we'll play one round of 'Life or Death Dreidel'. We each spin once, and if you win, you get to kill everyone in this room. If I win, Tifa and I get to leave this shitty party. Agreed?"

"Man, you look so gay! Decked out in all white like that, hah! What kind of loser pretty boy wears all white?! Oh man, seriously you guys, he's sooooooo-"

"Just spin the damn Dreidel." 'Greg' muttered, knowing there was really no point to pointing out the fact that both of them were wearing all white.

"No! No way, man! I'm not going to play a game like that against such a..... Tighty Whitey! Ah ha ha! Hey! Hey.....Hedgarr! Oh man, I totally got him! Didja hear that?! Tighty Whitey?! Oh man, that's so-"

'Greg', giving up on settling this all with the spin of a Dreidel, simply picked up the half-empty bottle of Jager, and proceeded to menace him with it handily. And once he finished with the menacing, he smashed Rufus over the head with it, knocking him out cold; averting the crisis at hand.

He pried the Red Rider BB Gun out of Rufus's hands and tossed it to Tifa, who dropped it in the Burlap Sack, glancing around warily.

"Get his coat off! Hurry!" She shouted to him, and 'Greg' complied, practically tearing the white trench coat off of the passed-out President, tossing it to her.

Tifa slid it on quickly, and handed the Burlap sack back to him, as they both ran for the door at full bore, kicking it down stylishly, before sprinting off into the snowy night.

Aerith ran to the door, watching as they ran away.

"Wait guys! We haven't opened our Christmakah presents yet!" She called after them, causing them to stop dead, turning back towards her. They hadn't gotten too far, but the white made it kind of hard to see them, all things considered.

"You know, with such crappy ideas like that, I can understand why Yuffie was optional, and you didn't make it past the First Disk!" 'Greg' shouted back, right before he and Tifa burst out laughing, before resuming their escape.

Though as they disappeared from sight, Aerith was almost certain that one of them shouted out 'Zing!'

.....This was the worst Christmakah ever. They usually got to open up presents, and maybe have some romance. And maybe Santa would make an appearance. And usually, they simply had a Christmas party, not an ill-informed mess of a Christmakah one. This was going to be one of the last times she attempted to apply The O.C. to real life situations.

Because it just really annoyed people.

And so ended the Worst Christmas Interlude ever spawned. I'm sorry everyone. Have a safe and Happy Holidays, and remember: Menacing people with a bottle of Jager, then running off into the snow isn't the polite way to get out of crappy parties.

END EIGHT

Sorry you guys. I'm truly sorry. I'm sure that some people might actually celebrate something like 'Christmakah', but with my experience, it was a bunch of ditzy rich kids that have The O.C. as an almost religious entity. Or people in the coffee shop, running up to me and shoving a 'Happy Christmakwanzakah!' flier in my face.

And during Heidigger's 'you guys suck' tirade, the reference to having inadvertently dressed as Santa comes from my first train wreck of a Christmas 'fic, Ho Ho.....Heidigger?!