This year, I'm finally gonna do it. I'm gonna write a Christmas oneshot! As a special, nonsensical treat, GLaDOS will be narrating this pivotal moment in the Newell's lives.
Timestamp: December 2104
Twas the week before Christmas, "the world's happiest day"
*Sarcasm self test complete*
Shut up. The moron was prepping in his scatterbrained way.
"Ok, here's the plan. You distract Sophie long enough for Aaron to get here, then I'll tell him what she wants so he can guess-what does she want again?"
This year he was panicking, and what was his fear? His daughter was gaining some reason this year. Though the previous Chistmases all seemed the same, this year Sophie's started to see through the game, the dumb human tradition that still gives me pause, the lie told to children about "Santa Claus." This impossible being, all the humans will say, flies around the whole world in a magical sleigh. He gives presents to children that he deems are "nice," and lives in the arctic surrounded by ice.
"Chell, I-I'm being serious here, this is mission critical. I could see the doubt in her eyes when we read her that story last night, and I just-it can't be over yet, it just can't! She's only five!"
Wheatley's strangely invested in this old yuletide hack, let's figure out why.
*Cue traumatic flashback*
Accessing C:\GLaDOS\Micellanious\Moron\BadMemories
"Ahh, wake up and smell the [expletive redacted] neurotoxin, ya bird-brained moron, it's not real! It's just a dumb[redacted] picture book for babies! Not even robot babies! It don't even exist! [redacted], Even if it did, you see any robots in that book of yours? It's a human thing, it ain't gonna work in here! Ain't enough pointy trees and sparkly crap on earth to put that right! Man, you're dumb! If I had fists and you had a face, I'd punch you so hard right now that my fist would go straight through your face!"
He powered backwards, fuming. "Well, that's it. Rick's had enough. I got a list of cool stuff I could be doin' right now the length of your stupid tree, why should I waste my time hangin' round here with you?"
By an arduous process of waggling his handles, Wheatley had finally managed to push himself the right way up, flipping awkwardly over. His voice cracked, dismayed, pleading.
"Rick, mate- I swear, literally any minute now-"
The Adventure core just stared down at him, his acid-green optic a narrow slit of disgust. He turned on his axis, zipping smoothly along his rail towards the maintenance exit high up in the wall.
"Forget it. I'm gone. Happy fake-mas, loser."
Oh, it's been censored, good. That kind of language will not be tolerated here. Back to the story.
"Whaddya mean you can't come!? Aaron, Sophie is hemorrhaging belief right now, she needs a transfusion from- OK bad metaphor, the point is, you need to be here!"
"I'm sorry Wheatley, but the stockroom is in shambles and everyone needs more ham. Someone else will have to be Santa this year."
"Someone else?" Wheatley thought as he hung up the phone, "What? Am I supposed to find an identical clone?" It seemed this fragile fantasy was destined to fall, then his eyes turned to the red shirt on the wall.
"Well, I could probably fit down the chimney…"
One week later
"Ow, ow! Ohnonono-"
Crash
Sophie and Chell ran toward the fireplace to investigate the noise. There, lying on the bed of logs in a very un-jolly heap, was Santa….if a thin skeletal being with no clue how to pull off the whole "chimney travel" thing could be called "Santa."
"Ho ho ho!" The man said in a strangely familiar British accent, "Merry Christmas and... all that."
"Santa? Sophie said quizzically, squinting at the stranger. "You look... thinner."
"Well if you must know, Mrs. Claus made me go on a diet, the hypocrite." Chell raised an eyebrow. "N-not that she's fat." 'Santa' backtracked hurriedly. "But I'm 90 percent sure she's giving the extra cookies to Rudolph, and heaven knows that guy can barely fly anymore. Anyway, you must be Sophie. You've been a very good girl this year, except the time you stole a sack of your mum's flour to make a dough snowman."
Sophie smiled sheepishly. "You know about that?"
"Oh I know everything, got surveillance cameras everywhere, whole team of security...elves. I know that sounds creepy, but it's ok, because I'm Santa."
"Now…" Santa rubbed the back of his neck, exactly the way Wheatley did when he was nervous. "It seems I'm a bit early, so why don't you enjoy the rest of your Christmas Eve, and if you're all snug in your beds tonight, I'll come back with the presents, plus some cookies I nipped from Ruldolph's stash. Ok?"
Chell nodded, smiling. "Sounds good...Santa."
"Brilliant!" Santa said as he awkwardly tried to climb back up the chimney. "Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good-" he hesitated as his foot slipped. "You know what, I'll just take the door." And that he did.
"Brilliant job, as always." Wheatley congratulated himself as he ran around the back of the house. "There is no way she knew it was me."
"That was some good acting."Sophie thought to herself in bed that night. "There is no way that he knew that I knew it was-wait, did I say that right?"
And now ABIGAIL, you can probably see the lengths humans go to pretend to be me. For I do see it all, every bad thing you do. And I- stop playing that dumb music, Blue!
Happy [HOLIDAY NAME HERE]
