Disclaimer: There once was a girl who forgot to put legal disclaimers on her fanfiction. The lawyers sent a spoon-wielding assassin after her. After being repeatedly beaten with kitchen utensils over the course of twenty years, she died. Nightmare Before Christmas and Death Note still do not belong to her.
Mistletoe Makes Everything Better
Police Phone Call Transcripts—11/21/09
Prank Caller
"Hello, what's your emergency?" Soichiro had to wonder what moron had forwarded the call to the chief of police. He drank some of the coffee in front of him, idly rearranging various apologetic adjectives he could string together while explaining the late night to his wife.
"I hate to bother you; I'm not sure what the time is in your country right now, but I thought it best to give you a call before all Hell breaks loose." It was a woman, evidently—a young woman, not the type of person to prank call (her voice was too serious), but also certainly not the type that was caught in an emergency.
"What's your emergency?"
"Yes, well, Mr. Claus has gone missing."
"Mr. Claus has been dead of a heart attack for a few weeks now." Damn, Soichiro hated the conspiracy theorists. They wouldn't stop calling, and somehow they always managed to successfully navigate the endless layers of communication blockades to reach him.
"No, Mr. Lawliet. He's been kidnapped by the Pumpkin King. I thought it best to give you warning before the news gets to the press."
Oh dear Lord. Not only was it a conspiracy theorist, it was an insane one. Why did the insane ones call him? Couldn't they call Aizawa or Ide? They used to call Matsuda, until he was fired for incompetence—why did they have to fire Matsuda?
"There is no such thing as the Pumpkin King. What is the emergency?"
They should start charging people for calling, they really should.
"Yes, there is, and you will be hearing a lot about him if you don't find Mr. Lawliet soon. I believed it prudent to alert you, given the situation—but obviously, you aren't getting the hint. Next time I call, you better be on your knees begging for forgiveness, you son of a bitch."
She hung up abruptly. Soichiro swallowed down more of his coffee and proceeded to make his way home. Aizawa could answer the next call.
Santa baby, an out-of-space convertible too, light blue
The Underground Messenger—11/21/09
THE GRINCH STEALS CHRISTMAS
[…yes, really]
No, not the live action film with Jim Carrey. This time, Christmas has been stolen by a much less green villain. And his heart is probably smaller, were it possible. No, this villain of Christmas is known only as the Pumpkin King—some cross between the Joker and the Green Goblin, I would propose. Despite the onslaught of childhood images from It's The Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown, one must realize that this evil persona has stolen Christmas.
By Christmas, we of course mean Mr. Lawliet, or the new Santa Claus. Oh, how we mourn this day, when we have nothing left of our hope. Pandora's Box has been opened and we have not a single dream for our futures, now that Christmas has flown away. The pain, the horror, the terror, the lack of sources is abominable!
The Japanese Police, being the brave gentlemen that they are, have decided to repress information from the media. Why the Japanese Police are in charge of the investigation, no one knows, especially because hardly any celebrate the Christian holiday in Japan, compared to various western countries. But this morning, around midnight, a distraught woman called the NPA, informing the police of the missing heir and described how he had been spirited away in the night by some demon with the name of Pumpkin King. And yet, the police turned her away in tears, calling her an insane wench who belonged in an asylum.
The corruption of today's police force astounds me. How vile they are, how evil and despicable, to deny the need of Christmas for the sole purpose of protecting the Pumpkin King's true identity. The truth, my dear readers, the truth, as always is an enigma—but today, thanks to our insider at the North Pole, the truth is clear. The police are the true villains in this tale—the Pumpkin King is merely a fabrication of the NPA. Or, rather, the bastard son of Soichiro Yagami come to wreak revenge on the world for being an unloved orphan with a complex for comic book villains.
The truth, my dear readers, is yours for the taking. Dare you look?
(Page 1D: Drawn picture of Mr. Lawliet in tasteful nude. Not quite as disgusting as you might think.)
I'll wait up for you dear
The Tree of Knowledge—11/22/09
Chief of Police Suffers Mental Break
"Ms. Kiyomi Takada, reporting from the NPA headquarters where Soichiro Yagami has locked himself in his office and is refusing to emerge. After reading the Underground Messenger, Mr. Yagami called his wife and discovered the identity of the Pumpkin King as his wife's illegitimate," a pause and a suggestive wink, "child."
The camera zoomed in on the door.
"The child was born about twenty-four years ago to the former Pumpkin King (known only by the name of Kushiel, who is now presumably deceased; his legacy is continued by his son, Light Kushiel.) Due to various naming traditions of his homeland, the child was given his father's first name in replacement of his last, and does not, conveniently enough, identify himself with the Japanese chief of police's family. Regardless, with his wife's long lost son on the horizon, Soichiro was reported to have a melt down during the middle of his work day. Perhaps we can coax him out of the office."
The camera zoomed in on the door handle.
"Mr. Yagami, this is Ms. Takada of The Tree of Knowledge, hoping to partake of your fruit."
There was no answer from inside the office; the poor man no doubt found himself dumbfounded by the unintentional sexual innuendo of the show's catch phrase.
The camera zoomed in on the keyhole.
"Rather, we were wondering what your thoughts were on the revelation of your wife's illegitimate," a suggestive pause and a not-quite-suggestive wink, "child?"
The camera zoomed in on Takada's v-neck shirt, revealing a disgustingly unnecessary amount of skin.
"Your wife, Sachiko Yagami, reports to having been raped, violated, and completely and utterly unresponsive during her relations with the former Pumpkin King, Kushiel. She says that she would never have willingly betrayed you for the bed of the angel of punishment."
Still no answer. Takada frowned, then brightened with the thought of another interview question. "The world is wondering, Mr. Yagami, how your daughter is taking the news of her psychotic half-brother who just ruined one of the world's favorite holidays?"
The handle turned. Soichiro opened the door and threw a stapler at Ms. Kiyomi Takada's head.
Santa baby, and hurry down the chimney tonight
The Underground Messenger—11/22/09
THAT BITCH STOLE OUR FEED
[…she will be dealt with]
(Though Naomi Misora searched for the rest of the article to place in her scrap book, she couldn't find anything but a rather lewd picture of Persephone posing as L Lawliet's child-bride.)
Think of all the fun I've missed
The Underground Messenger—11/23/09
THE NORTH POLE LOOKS LIKE MY UNDERWEAR DRAWER
[…read: is in utter disarray]
We declare press war against the Tree of Knowledge, otherwise known as porn posing as news. No, we will not partake of your fruit, you whore, no matter how many times they zoom in on your skanky tops.
That is why I am in the North Pole, namely, Santa's Work Shop, inspecting the chaos that has ensued since the demise of Mr. Claus and the kidnapping of Mr. Lawliet. The work shop is in shambles, the toys are hideous (horrible stitching, terrible painting, ill-fitting pieces), and the elves are drinking themselves to death on eggnog. Happy has reported going blind after drinking fourteen shots of the stuff.
Talking with the Head Elf, Near, I decided to get the inside scoop on the Santa Fiasco. "Yes, it has been rather disorganized since the disappearance of Mr. Claus. We can only hope he will be returned to us before Christmas begins, but it does seem as if Christmas will have to be delayed this year due to the unfortunate circumstances."
Small and white-haired, Near appears to be a fourteen year-old child—and yet you have the feeling that he has lived centuries. Or rather, he acts like he has lived for centuries, being the most boring speaker I've ever had the pleasure of making conversation with.
"I noticed the state of some of the toys—how they appear broken and unusable by the child they were intended for."
"No, our elves are highly trained in the art of toy-making; they spend years under apprenticeship in the arts of painting, stitching, building, and other such skills. You have no need to worry about the quality of our work. We know what we are doing."
At this point, I noticed a rather bored-looking woman collapsed in a chair. Taller than all the other elves by a mile, and with ears quite a deal less pointy, she rolled a toy train across an empty desk with a look of complete and utter disinterest etched across her features. I couldn't help but notice the pile of broken toys on either side of the table, the amount of destruction this one dark-haired not-quite-elf had created.
"What about her?" I asked the Head-Elf.
He turned, looked at her (well, more glared, now that I think about it), and then turned back to me.
"That would be Naomi Misora. Her father was a human, one of those explorers from the sixteen hundreds."
As if that were supposed to explain everything, which it didn't—but then, that's elf humor for you. It's terrible. Indeed, we must remember L Lawliet's words: The North Pole is Hell. I hate to say it, but I agree with him completely. The singing is abominable. The truth is the truth, and the truth, like a coal filled stocking, hurts like hell.
(Page 1C: Picture of Persephone… yet again…. Our editor has found a new obsession.)
Think of all the fellas that I haven't kissed
Scourge's Note: Welllll. The first move is made. No chains are in sight. WILL OUR HEROES EVER TIE EACH OTHER UP, PUT ON BLINDFOLDS, AND HAVE ROUGH SEX? (Carni says no. Scourge is convinced that depends on who you define as the hero, and whether or not eyelids count as blindfolds.)