PRAISE YE, O CHRISTMAS FOOLS
AUTHOR'S NOTES: Originally, this story was supposed to be published during Christmas, but then I thought, "Why wait, when you can have a little winter fun right now in my story?" So, here's one of the most hilarious GMD stories I've written! Do enjoy!
Bartholomew & most of the thugs belong to Disney. Manchester Maurice, Eunice, Agent 001, Mouses Fiennes, Miriam, & Olga are mine.
It was a cold, snowy morning in December of 1900. White flakes of frost blew all around the city of London, filling every corner of the underground world as it flew into the sewer grates. In his little barrel-house he shared with his brother, Bartholomew was asleep in his bed, with visions of sugarplums dancing in his head...
Suddenly, the stout thug's eyes opened widely, & a wide smile crossed his cherubic face as Big Ben rang 9:00...
"Ugh, 9:00...just another excuse Mouses makes up for me to greet the horrible day of mockery & name-calling that will await me," Peewee Pete grumbled as he sat down at the dining table next to Walker, who replied with a sardonic laugh, "Yeah, shrimpy...I know what you mean!" Peewee Pete snarled, & beat him up.
In another chair at the table, Gunsmoke Gary was drinking his daily cup of Maxwell Mouse coffee. But just as he had taken a sip, Gary spat out his Java in shock, as he heard a slurred voice call out cheerfully, "Merry Christmas, everyone!"
All the thugs looked to the threshold of the dining hall, & their mouths gaped open as they saw none other than Bartholomew (dressed in his pajamas) posing proudly as he shouted again, "Merry Christmas, everyone!"
"Bart, keep your freakin' voice down!" Gary snapped. "Do you wanna get the bell?"
With the happy smile still pasted on his face, Bartholomew repeated in a whisper, "Merry Christmas, everyone!" The thugs all sighed & moaned in reply.
"Do you wanna tell him, Snotty?" Walker asked his friend Sam, who replied, "No, why don't you tell him?"
"Tell me what?" Bartholomew asked innocently.
Sporting a sad frown, Manchester Maurice went over to his brother, & gingerly placed an arm around his shoulders as he said solemnly, "Bartholomew, brother dear...I'm afraid I have bad news...Mouses has forbidden us to celebrate Christmas this year. Forever, actually."
"Come on, Manny Moe," Bartholomew retorted stubbornly, "Christmas is a holiday! It can't possibly be banned from the hideout, let alone anywhere!"
"In MY neck of the sewer lair, it is!" Bartholomew gasped, as Mouses Fiennes appeared in the doorway, dressed in an ornate silk dressing gown, looking quite outraged.
"Oh, Mouses, Merry Christmas!" Bartholomew cheered, despite Maurice's attempts to silence him.
"There is no Christmas anymore, Bartholomew!" Mouses growled. "I've banned it!"
"But...but...but, why?"
"Because, Bartholomew, I'm simply tired of everything having to do with that bloody holiday! All that singing & dancing & happiness...it makes me bloody sick! And that's why none of you are allowed to celebrate it anymore!" With a swish of his cape, Mouses left, grumbling & cursing to himself all the while.
When Mouses' footsteps finally faded away, Bartholomew's face fell, & he began to sob noisily into his brother's chest, as Maurice gingerly hugged him & patted his back.
"Poor Bartholomew," Agent 001 said pitifully. "He really misses Christmas! And as much as I hate to disobey Mouses, I'd do anything to bring it back & make my dear comrade happy."
Suddenly, the big grin formed once again on Bartholomew's lips...
"All right, what should we do first?" Miriam asked later that morning as she & the thugs gathered in the barrel-throne room.
"Well, there's so many things we need to get done," Gunsmoke Gary said, a devilish smirk on his lips. "I suggest we start with..."
"The present-making!" Peewee Pete said excitedly. Immediately, the thugs went to their barrels, & came back to the throne room with tools & craft materials.
"OK, this present is for Bartholomew..." Miriam said as she began to sew a small red sweater. "Don't look, love! It's meant to be a surprise..."
Suddenly, the sewing needle slipped out of Miriam's paws. It flew through the air, before landing on Mouses' throne. As Peewee Pete sat down to make his present for Eunice, he felt a sharp sting in his bum. Yelping in pain, Pete jumped out of the chair & about the hideout, clutching his lower back, as everyone laughed.
"Well, the presents are all done," Bartholomew said as he helped Miriam finish putting the gifts by the harp in the corner. "What should we do next?"
"According to the list on my P.D.A.-whatsadoozit," Gary said, "we're now supposed to...prepare dinner for the post-Christmas feast tomorrow."
"Then let's waste no time!" Agent 001 cried. "To the kitchen!"
"Bartholomew, dear, you musn't eat all that cheese!" Olga scolded as the thugs watched the stout little fellow eat his way through the food supply in the pantry. "Save some for later!"
"Oh, OK," Bartholomew whined, handing the cheese to the others, who put it with the turkey, salads, pudding, & other Christmas delights they had just slaved over for two hours.
"OK, Bart, let's go on & pop some chestnuts while we get our stockings ready!" Miriam said, tickling her lover's nose.
"Okey-doke, Mimsy! Just one more thing to do..." Bartholomew dived headfirst into the human-sized mold of green jello that Terry & Thomas had prepared.
"Oh, barnacles!" Terry whined. "Our jello mold!"
But Terry couldn't help but laugh with the others as Bartholomew swam around in the green gooey food, looking most content.
"OK, the presents & feast have been prepared," Gary said a short time later, checking the list on his P.D.A. "Now we just have to do a few more things, before we tuck in for the night."
"Thanks for already establishin' that, Mr. Punctual," Thomas scoffed, rolling his eyes.
"Shut it, smart-bum!" Gary snapped, before turning back to the list. "Now, next we have to go find a tree to decorate!"
"That shouldn't be too hard!" Manchester Maurice said optimistically.
"So sure of yourself, are you?" Olga griped under her breath.
"I guess I spoke too soon," Maurice said as the thugs gathered in a big forest full of miniature pine trees.
"Wait a second," Peewee Pete said, "I thought there weren't any pine trees in England!"
"It's called story development, Pete," Maurice grumbled as he tugged along an axe over to a big pine tree. "Now stop complaining, & help me with this hatchet!"
As Bartholomew, Miriam, Olga, & the other thugs watched on, Pete & Maurice struggled to lift up the heavy axe, before chopping the tree down. The thugs screamed & ran for cover as the giant pine fell to the snow-covered ground with a thud.
When the thugs had finally managed to place the tree on a human's sled & pull it into the sewer lair, Maurice wiped the sweat off his furry brow. "Phew! Now we just have to decorate this bloody thing, & then we're done!"
In the barrel-throne room, a cozy fire was glowing in the hearth (which had suddenly turned up, like a continuity goof in a cartoon). As the thugs sang merry Christmas carols, they gingerly placed rainbow-colored ornaments onto the tree they had just put up.
"Oh, Bartholomew, this has been a most wonderful Christmas!" Miriam gushed, hugging her lover & kissing his nose. "And not even Mouses can ruin it for us!"
"Darn tootin'!" Walker added merrily, popping open a bottle of champagne & pouring some into a glass.
"And the party will surely be a smash!" Bartholomew cheered. "No pun intended..."
"Tomorrow is going to be a grand day, indeed..." Maurice prophesized.
It was now Christmas morning. Unbeknownst to Mouses, merry laughter bubbled throughout the barrel-throne room, as everyone gathered at the makeshift table they had just filled with food.
As he raised his champagne glass into the air, Bartholomew said cheerfully, "All right, everyone, Merry Christmas to all!"
"Merry Christmas!" the thugs echoed, raising their glasses & taking sips of their drinks.
"So, Bart, what do you suggest we eat first?" Snakes asked with a broad grin, gesturing to the food on the table.
"How about we just dig into whatever we want? After all, it is Christmas!"
"Bartholomew's got a point, there!" Maurice said, smiling. With a cry of "Geronimo!", Maurice dove headfirst into the giant jello mold, splattering it all over everyone. "Our jello mold!" Terry & Thomas whined in unison, as Maurice & the other thugs dug into the great mass of green goop.
"Manners, everyone, manners!" Miriam scolded. But then the girl shrugged & joined her friends in their feast. Little did Miriam know that when she had gone into the jello, some of it splashed into the hearth, causing the fire to ignite & light up the Christmas tree.
"Oh, crap," Red swore, "the tree!" Immediately, the thugs grabbed champagne from the fountain, & attempted to douse the fire. However, their efforts were fruitless—the fire soon engulfed the tree, reducing it to cinders.
"Oh, no!" Bartholomew whined as he saw the presents go up in flames. "Our presents are gone, too!" Then he began to cry.
"It's no wonder Mouses banned Christmas this year!" Bill lamented, scooping up ashes into his green hands.
"This holiday turned out to be really sucky!" Red griped. "The feast was a disaster, the tree's been burnt..."
"And the sweater I made for me boyfriend...gone!" Miriam sobbed, drying her moist eyes with a light-pink handkerchief. Suddenly, Miriam gasped, as Mouses' laughter echoed throughout the hideout.
"What are you laughing at, pig?" Olga asked irritatedly, her arms akimbo.
"Somehow, you've managed to make Christmas enjoyable for me, too!" Mouses giggled. "Forget what I said about the ban! Christmas is allowed here once more!" Then, still laughing, he exited.
A long silence passed...before everyone gathered around Bartholomew, bursting into wild cheers.
"You did it, Bartholomew!" Snakes shouted, hugging the stout thug. "You brought Christmas back to the hideout!"
"We knew you could do it, son!" Eunice said happily. Bartholomew could only smile broadly in reply. For once he had done something right! Let's just hope the next Christmas didn't turn into a laughingstock...