Angus stood outside of his cave, panting furiously as he looked down at Toonville with a sour frown. His memories flashing in his head, making him angrier.

NARRATOR: So whatever the reason,
his heart or his shoes,
he stood outside his cave
hating the Toons.

He pulled out a phone book from behind his back and read from it, listing down every single Toon written inside.

"Alphabetically." He hissed and placed a finger on one name. "Abraham D. Frederick Baulm. I...HATE YOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU!"

Then he moved on to another name in the book.

"Aaron Stephenson. I hate you." He resumed. "Hate, hate, hate. Hate, hate, hate, double hate, loathe entirely!"

But then the sound of bells and music were heard over the whistling winds from below at Toonville, disrupting Angus's tirade. He knew exactly what this meant.

"Nutcrackers." He glared, closing the book. "It's their Toonbilation!"

He put the book in his mouth, biting it.

He snarled with a sneer.

Angus gasped, taking the book out of his mouth and said, "Tomorrow's Christmas. It's practically here!"

Tossing the book away, he marched back into his cave.

"SLASH! FETCH ME MY SEDATIVE!"

Back inside of his cave, he sat at the foot of his bed and held a large hammer in his hands.

"Now to take care of those pesky memories." grumbled Angus as he smacked his forehead with the hammer, knocking himself out instantly.

Back in Toonville, everyone was getting ready the upcoming event of Toonbilation, the one celebration they do every year on Christmas before Christmas morning.

"~Toonbilation, Toonbilation, plentiful with candy canes and pies. I can't wait to get there to eat some google fries. Toonbilation, Toonbilation!~"

In midst of the celebrating crowd, Jack and Jesper made their way over to Town Hall with the rest of the Toons.

"Dad?" asked Jack.

"Yeah?" His father said.

"I've been thinking a lot about the Toonbilation and I may do something drastic." explained Jack.

"That's fine, son. Ask your mother." Jesper responded.

Jack looked around to not see her with them. "Where is she, by the way?"

"Oh, honey! Hi!" called Alva as she ran up to them in a rush, holding a traffic light. "Look! I just found the cutest light for my Christmas display."

Suddenly, there came a loud car crash, scared everyone. Any observant fellow out there would know that Alva had obviously stolen it to try to keep up with Jessica for the contest.

"Come on, hurry up. We're gonna be late." Alva rushed them, trying to avoid suspicion.

Everyone surrounded the entrance to the Town Hall and the marching band played their music while Jessica approached the steps in her best outfit. A red top, red elbow-high gloves and a green fluffy skirt. Once she made to the top of the steps and Mayor Hans arrived at the podium, the Toons cheered and applauded until Hans calmed them down so he could speak.

"And now the nominations for that Toon among us who best typifies the quality of Toondom and Toondery, the Toonville holiday cheermeister!" He announced over his microphones.

The Duke unveiled the silver Toonbilation trophy and with that, the citizens went wild and clapped.

"Do I hear a nomination?" asked Mayor Westergaard.

"I nominate Angus Black!" shouted Jack from the sea of people.

Everyone gasped and dispersed to reveal the brown-haired boy to the Mayor as the crowd chattered and exclaimed in both shock and confusion. Maria, Joaquin and Manolo were there also, all three of them in quite a surprise hearing their friend's declaration. Mayor Westergaard chuckled sarcastically.

"My, what an altruistic child you got there, Jesper." He grinned falsely.

"Thank you." Jesper said.

"Jack? Come here, please." The mayor called out for the boy to come closer. "Let me quote a verse in the Book of Toon."

The Duke handed him the Book of Toon and he opened it to a page he was looking for. Mayor Westergaard read from the page, "'The term "Black" shall apply when Christmas spirit is in short supply'. Now, I ask you, does that sound like our holiday Cheermeister?"

"True, Mr. Mayor." Jack nodded. "But the book says this too. "No matter how different a Toon may appear, he will always be welcome with holiday cheer'."

The crowed debated with some agreement while a few with hesitance about nominating Angus to be the next cheermeister.

"Uh, yes, but the book also states, uh...'The award cannot go to Angus Black because sometimes things get a little offtrack'." Hans stuttered, flipping through the pages, trying to find an excuse not to nominate Angus. No way was he going to have his rival come down here anything soon.

"You made that up! I doesn't say that!" scolded Jack, making everyone gasp.

"No, it does." The mayor lied.

"What page?" asked Jack, raising an eyebrow.

Mayor Westergaard stammered, "Lost my place, but it's...it's in here."

"I'm not saying I read the book, but I do know it says thusly: 'The cheermeister is the one who deserves a back-slap or a toast. And it goes to the soul at Christmas who needs it the most'. And I believe that soul is Angus Black. And if you all are the Toons I hope you are, you will too."

Everyone agreed and nodded, clapping and cheering. Jack's friends were proud of his determination and passion, willing to give the one person who hates Christmas a chance. Everyone having made their decision, but the Mayor was indifferent.

"Fine." He complained. "You people want to waste a perfectly good nomination, it's up to you. But I am telling you, Mr. Black will never come down."

"And if he doesn't, the mayor will wear the crown." The Duke replied.

"Well, more or less." Hans shrugged, slightly agreeing to the terms.

And the Toons applauded with joy and hope. Angus was nominated to become the new cheermeister, despite Hans's objections. They all sang and celebrated while Jack looked upwards at Mt. Krumpit, wondering how he was going to convince the lonely curmudgeon to agree.

The cheers of the Toons rang out and echoes through the cave walls and Angus laid peacefully in his bed, still passed out and beginning to regain consciousness after that solid blow to the head. In his relaxed state, he unknowingly sang along with the music.

"~Tick tock, tick tock. Counting down the Christmas clock. Old, young. Big, small-AHHHHHHHHHH!" He screamed when he realized what he was doing and sat upright on his bed. Angus grabbed a pillow and covered his ears, trying to block the music.

"Blast this Christmas music!" He growled. "It's joyful and triumphant."

"Must drown them out!"

He grabbed handfuls of nails, screws, anything metallic and put them into blenders, turning them on and other machinery to provide enough loud, disruptive noise to block the cheery singing. But still, even with all the loud sound of metal screws clanging against the glass of the blenders and the shock of electricity, he could still hear the music, much to his chagrin.

"Not working!"