Slippy smiled at his own distorted red-tinted reflection in an ornament as he hung it up on the massive Christmas tree situated in the middle of the room. It was the final finishing touch after having already spent the better part of the last day dressing up the entire hangar to the nines with Christmas cheer. The decorating certainly required a much greater effort than in years past when the crew used to host their yearly Holiday Bash inside the Great Fox's meeting room. However, a continually growing guest list eventually necessitated the move to a larger venue. Safety concerns were, likewise, an issue, as Bill had completely disappeared the year prior, only to later be found cross-faded in the armory rolling joints on a plasma cannon. All that was left to do now was set the table for dinner, but most of that would be out of his hands anyway since the majority of the food would be brought by the guests. Thank God for potlucks.
The workload had been tremendous, but in Slippy's eyes, it was all worth it. The whole time he toiled away, blissfully ignorant of the implications of a fictional universe of anthropomorphic animals celebrating a Christian appropriated pagan holiday to mark the birth of Jesus Christ of Nazareth. He kept repeating the same mantra in his mind. "If I can just manage to make this party even bigger and prettier than the last, everyone will be happy. And that's what Christmas is all about, right?"
As the Toad sat down in a fold-up chair to recollect his energy, Peppy ambled his way into the hangar with a bowl of punch in his arms.
"Hey Slip, where you want me to put thi- KRIS KRINGLE'S SILVER BELLS! This place looks fantastic! Geez, you really outdid yourself this year, buddy."
Slippy took the opportunity to bask in the first well-deserved compliments of his hard work as casually slouched back in his chair, a smug grin plastered across his face.
"Thanks, Peppy! It was really nothing, though. Just a little bit of Holiday cheer to make this year's party extra special. Feel free to put the punch down over there on the table, by the way. The rest of the guests should start arriving with all the food here in the next hour or so."
"Sounds good to me," Peppy responded as he gingerly laid the bowl down in the center of the table. "And don't get me wrong, this place really does look great like I said, but you really think this is all necessary?"
"Of course," Slippy replied flatly. "Why would any of this be unnecessary?"
As if on cue, Falco burst through the door behind Peppy.
"Yo, Slippy, that dude with the ice sculpture just pulled up. He wants to know where you want him to put it."
"Ice sculpture!?" Peppy shot back incredulously.
"Oh yeah! You're gonna love it. It's a complete scale model of the Great Fox. They even carved in little outlines of us in the cockpit," Slippy beamed.
Falco, meanwhile, decided to take in the newly decorated hanger for himself.
"How sweet is this," he noted as he approached the tree. Upon looking underneath, he found a small cylindrical present addressed to him from Slippy. Letting curiosity get the better of him, he unwrapped it and found an unexpected surprise. "Daaaaaamn, Slip, you shouldn't have!" He exclaimed as he pulled out the bottle of vodka. "Even remembered to get my favorite brand."
"Hey, put that back!" Slippy scolded. "No opening presents until Christmas morning, ok?"
"What about the TV you got for Fox?" Falco reasoned. "He got to open that early."
"That's only because I wanted to use it for the party today. Besides, we don't need you getting slammed before the festivities even start. Now if you'll excuse me, I need to go meet with the ice sculptor and check in with the DJ. I'll be back in a bit."
And with that, Slippy ended his short repose, popping up from his chair and purposefully striding out the hangar doors. After initially putting it back under the tree, Falco snatched the bottle of booze right back out again as soon as the Toad was out of sight.
"Is this gonna be that same DJ from last year again that just played different remixes of 'Munch' by Ice Spice the whole time?" he groaned as he unscrewed the cap on the end of the bottle.
"Heck if I know," Peppy responded as he plopped down into the chair just previously occupied by Slippy. "Most of that new-fangled stuff all sounds the same to me anyway." He let out a long sigh before speaking up again. "I know Slippy means well when he goes into his 'super planner mode' like this, but, boy, it just wears me down."
"Well," Falco grinned. "I think I know a little way to calm his ass down and have some fun ourselves at the same time. Wanna give me a hand here?"
In the true spirit of giving, the bird proceeded to dump his whole bottle of vodka out into the punch bowl. Peppy sat and watched for a few seconds, considering if he actually wanted to take accountability for whatever consequences might occur from these actions down the road.
"Eh, what can go wrong?" He thought to himself as he produced a hidden flask from his coat pocket and joined Falco in the festive jungle juice brewing. "'Tis the season, afterall."
Over the course of the next few hours, the party seemed to go off without a hitch. Guests slowly filtered in with their own contributions to a now veritable winter feast, each remarking on just how impressed they were with Slippy's decorating prowess, much to the little green guy's satisfaction. Some of the most popular dishes included Bill's famous seven layer dip and a humongous roast turkey, courtesy of Fay's culinary expertise. This was, thankfully, able to make up for some of the other guests who didn't pull their weight with their potluck offerings. Perhaps most notable was a "cheese plate" consisting of a few plastic-wrapped cheese sticks and a pack of Saltines brought in by some weasel-looking guy with yellow glasses that nobody at the party seemed to be able to recognize. Slippy didn't let it bother him, though. After eight trips to the punch bowl, nothing much could anymore.
Krystal eventually found herself indulging in the very same magical elixir along with Katt while trying to block out the implications of Falco shoving his beak full of turkey leg on the other side of the table. She took a worried glance at the red solo cup in her hand before glancing up to see Slippy practically hanging off of Fox on the other side of the room.
"Katt, do you think Slippy knows that there's alcohol in here?"
Katt shrugged
"If he didn't before, he sure does now. I'm sure it's fine though. Look how much fun he's having."
The toad looked absolutely sloshed as he practically hung off the side of Fox for balance. Katt made sure to pull out her phone and capture a quick snapshot of the scene.
However, it was at this moment that Slippy suddenly noticed something odd from across the other side of the room. One of the party guests seemed to be having some sort of issue. He had noticed her earlier due to her weirdly racy outfit. He had assumed that the skin-tight (fur-tight?) red and black suit may have been some weird themed outfit. Maybe she was supposed to be a stupid sexy skier or something. It must have felt like she was wearing nothing at all.
Anyway, this strange fox lady was just about the only person interested in the afore-mentioned mystery guest "cheese platter." And she was going absolutely ape on this sonnovabitch. Those sticks were sliding down her gullet whole like the final plunge on a log ride. Not a single bite taken. And sure enough, the dildo of consequences eventually arrived un-lubed in the form of a sideways cheese stick in the windpipe.
Slippy jumped straight into action, tossing his punch to the side and making a mad dash towards the now doubled-over choking vixen. He had never attempted the Heimlich maneuver before, but felt like he probably got the gist. Just give a good squeeze and it should come right out, yeah? Just like a ketchup bottle. The plastic kind, at least. He was definitely not prepared to stick a butter knife down there like with the alternative.
As he clumsily slammed into her and began his panicked pounding of her solar plexus, he could have sworn she made strange moans of pleasure. It must have just been the lack of oxygen, he figured as he continued to work away.
Finally, his efforts paid off as the cheese shot out of her gullet like a tungsten rod from an advanced military satellite. A hush fell over the entire party as the guests watched the projectile arc through the air before eventually finding its mark in the form of the Great Fox ice sculpture. Time practically stood still as the sculpture teetered and rocked from the sudden blunt force collision. And then, after what felt like an eternity, the ship settled down and stood still once more. A relieved sigh wafted throughout the hangar in unison.
And then not a second later the whole thing came crashing down. It fell to the far end of the table with such force that it sent the other half flying upwards as it shattered into a million shining pieces across the floor. In turn, this caused the turkey to take flight for the very first and last time in its short existence along with the seven layer dip, which found its mark in the form of Fox's head.
Graciously, the roast bird missed any other would-be airstrike victims, electing instead to imbed itself into the one of the DJ booth's 15" speakers.
"You thought I was feelin' you? Nah. That-" was the last thing Ice Spice was able to get out before the well-timed, albeit unorthodox, censor sent the whole system crashing to the floor. It just barely missed the large geometric helmet of the poor DJ himself who dove out of the way with a "What a fakkin' kerfuffle, eh!?"
At this point, most guests were already sent into a mass panic, but the carnage was far from over. An electrical short from the toppled DJ booth connected with the punch, now spilled out across the floor, to send a shock towards the Christmas tree. Suddenly one of the presents underneath erupted with a huge bolt of light sailing out the side. Krystal was barely able to tackle Falco to the ground in time as the blast flew over them.
"What in the bloody hell was that!?" The vixen screamed.
"Oh shit, that was probably the new blaster I got Fox for Christmas," Falco thought out loud.
"And you wrapped it up LOADED?"
"Hey, what kind of cheap asshole do you take me for?" Falco said defensively. "That's like wrapping up a toy without including any batteries. Besides, it could still be worse. Nobody got hurt and it's not like the tree caught on fire or anything."
While it was true that nobody had gotten injured from the blast, the same could not be said for the new flatscreen TV, which took a direct hit. It exploded in a spectacular array of sparks, one of which landed right underneath the neighboring Christmas tree. Now doused with the alcohol-infused punch, it took only seconds for the entire tree and all the presents it housed to ignite.
Krystal slowly turned her gaze back to Falco with a deadpan expression on her face.
"Yeah. Could be worse."
The ordeal was soon swiftly brought to an end with the activation of the hangar's fire detection system. Fire retardant foam rained down upon the tree, decorations, food, and guests alike, giving everyone the type of white Christmas they'd never forget. All said and done, nobody was seriously hurt, but the feast, presents, and all decorations were thoroughly and utterly ruined. As a ghostly silence fell on the room and the dust settled, Slippy could be seen slowly shuffling down the hall, a thousand yard stare and gaping jaw plastered to his face. Fox slowly approached behind his friend as he sank to his knees.
"Hey, Slip? You alri-"
A stream of vomit immediately erupted forth from Slippy's mouth. The jinxed jungle juice had finally made its way back upstream for one last cruel joke. Fox just sort of awkwardly rubbed his friend's back as he wretched, occasionally throwing in a "there, there." When Slippy had finally emptied himself, he responded with a weak groan.
"I can't believe I ruined it."
"What? Hey, pal, I know it looks bad, but what's most important is that everyone's safe and sound," Fox said in an attempt to cheer him up.
"Yeah, but, Christmas. It's ruined."
"Come on, look at me Slip." Fox got down on one knee and placed his hand on the toad's shoulder, looking at him face to face. "All of those decorations and presents and everything? None of that matters. What makes Christmas so special is the people you get to spend it with and the fun times you have together. Besides, it's the thought that counts."
Slippy sat there for a moment in deep thought, letting everything Fox told him sink in. Eventually he looked right back at Fox with an earnest meaningful expression.
"Are- Are you fucking shitting me?"
"Wha-"
"Are you saying that every year I do all this Goddamn work to make everyone happy and the whole time it didn't even matter!? I'm working my ass to the bone and all you people wanted was to sit around the fire together and sing carols? Man, do you have any idea how much that TV cost me? Fuck this shit, I'm out."
And with that, Slippy stood up and angrily waddled out of the hangar, splitting the aghast crowd down the middle as he made his way to the exit, mumbling obscenities about Christmas all the way. The silence was deafening as everyone stood around in shock from the events of the past few minutes. Finally, Katt stepped up behind Fox, scooping up some of the remaining seven layer dip off his head with a chip and popping it into her mouth.
"I think he took that pretty well."
A/N: My entry for the 2023 Foxhole Christmas one-shot contest. Big thanks to Zoinkler for beta reading.
Merry Christmas, you filthy animals.