"Florence," a voice whispered. "Flooooreeence..."

Bakura stirred in his sleep, finding himself unable to move properly. A slimey wetness on his ear made his eyes fly open. Upon seeing one of the last faces he wanted to see inches from his, he pulled the knife from under his pillow and rolled over. When his brain cleared he found himself on the floor straddling Melvin's waist and holding the knife to his throat.

"Oh, Florence..." Melvin tilted his head to press his cheek against the flat of the blade. "Don't be gentle."

Bakura growled. "Don't sneak up on me." He got up and sat on the edge of his bed. "You're lucky I didn't gut you."

Melvin sat up and propped his elbows on the edge of the bed. "You sleep far too heavily for a thief," he purred. "You're lucky I didn't smother you."

Bakura rubbed his temples. "I'm sure you didn't come in here to trade threats."

"I was thinking about the party," Melvin said. He stretched his arm out on the bed and laid his cheek on the mattress. "I want you to help me crash it."

"My hands are quite full enough with Marik's crazy schemes."

"Mmm, I think you'll like mine a lot more," Melvin sang.

"Fine. Talk fast." Bakura crossed his arms and leaned against the wall.

"We steal all the presents and replace them with really bad ones," Melvin grinned.

Bakura arched an eyebrow. "You're sounding a lot like Marik."

"No, listen." Melvin rolled into a kneeling position and fixed Bakura with a glittering gaze. "Bad ones. Rat traps. Razor blades. Stinging nettles. Contact poison. It'll be a blood bath! The whole Christmas special will have to be censored, denying Kaiba and the pharaoh their precious screentime. It will be glorious, Florence."

He reached into his pocket, and then shoved a crumpled piece of paper at Bakura's face. Bakura took it, trying to study it in the light from the window. It was mostly a bunch of crude crayon cartoons of murdered stick figures. The words 'Kovert Krampus' were scrawled across the top in red.

Melvin gripped the edge of the bed, chin pressed between his hands. Like a dog waiting for praise.

"What is this?" Bakura asked.

Melvin heaved a dramatic sigh, rolling his eyes, and hauled himself up to sit next to Bakura. "That," he pointed at a red, green, and yellow doodle, "is Susan eating rat poison cookies. That," he pointed at a red, purple, and yellow doodle, "is whore biscuit putting on acid lotion. That..." He continued pointing at doodles, explaining plans involving everything from exploding ornaments, to sweaters made of fiberglass, to stuffed animals full of poisonous spiders.

Bakura tapped the tip of the knife on his lip as he listened. When the excited stream of babble finally petered off, he said, "I'm not opposed to the idea in theory, but I do wonder where you think you're going to get a mustard gas candle. I'm pretty sure that's not even how mustard gas works."

"That's why your plans never go anywhere, Florence. You get too caught up on how stuff 'works.'"

Bakura scowled. "While we're at it, why all the complicated, expensive toys? Wouldn't one exploding anything be just as effective in getting the whole thing censored?"

"Oh, sure, 'while we're at it,' why don't I just run into the room brandishing a chainsaw like I always do? Maybe 'while I'm at it' I can cut that stick out of your ass."

Deciding to try a different direction, Bakura said, "How are you going to get everyone to open everything? As soon as one person gets bitten by spiders or sprayed with acid, the whole party is going to panic."

Melvin threw his head back and heaved a longer, even more dramatic sigh. "Says the guy whose plan took three thousand years to come to fruition, to the guy whose plan only took, like, five. You have to spread your eggs around, Florence, or the Christmas special will be half-over by the time anything explodes."

Bakura blinked at him. "You actually put some thought into this, didn't you?"

Melvin purred as a smirk glided onto his face.

"Fine, we'll get everyone a special present, but this, er, list needs some revising."