Christmas Fic
Dec. 25th, 2008 06:35 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dethoratsTitle: Santa and His Little Helpers
Rating: PG
Pairing: OT5
Word Count: 540
Where the outfits had come from, only the heartily snickering Pirate King knew and no one could get him to stop laughing long enough to lay proper blame. On the bed that now took up most of Shanks’ cabin lay four outfits in colors of red and green and white. Small golden and silver jingle bells served as accents and, horror of horrors, there were shoes with curled toes as well. Three usually stupidly brave men watched, aghast, as the redhead gingerly reached out and touched one. “Hmm, velveteen,” he said, rubbing the fabric between his fingers. “Beats scratchy wool sweaters with pom-poms at least.”
“Have you,” his first mate finally said, the words coming out rather choked while Luffy chortled louder in the background, “SEEN how tiny those things are?”
“All the better to scandalize the old man with, my dear,” Shanks said with a wink, already pulling off his shirt.
“And Grampa too,” Luffy added breathlessly as he panted for air, already wearing a separate outfit of red with white trim.
That was enough to convince the World’s Greatest Swordsman, and the previous holder of said title, memories of Garp’s bellows and ‘love’ punches strong enough to overcome their reasonable hesitation. They’d probably suffer for it in the long run, but even a little revenge at that point was worthwhile.
Ben was the last holdout but he never had been able to resist the combined attack of captain wibbles and, grumbling all the while, finally gave in.
A few minutes later, Luffy bounded out the door and, rather more slowly, the rest of them followed, bells jingling and jangling and making a racket with every footfall. Out on deck, the two crews had all gathered for their yearly dose of holiday entertainment, the special Akagami eggnog already flowing. Usopp, his father hovering nearby as always to dispense his ‘advice,’ had his camera ready, trained on a cushioned chair with various fake presents scattered about.
Catcalls and whistles and Franky’s cry of ‘SUPER!’ and Lucky Roux’s meaty guffaws met the quartet’s entrance while Nami, a wide smile on her face, grudgingly handed ten beri over to her captain along with his beard. “I can’t believe you got them to do it,” she whispered and Luffy just grinned and hooked the white fake facial hair over his ears.
One Gum-Gum Balloon and lots of embarrassment later, and Usopp finally took the shot. The effects of the flash hadn’t even fully cleared before a noisy trio ran clumsily off to change. Shanks lingered a little longer, plopping onto Luffy’s lap. “I know what I want for Christmas now,” he whispered into the Pirate King’s ear. “You better follow quickly so I get all of it.” And then he sauntered off, the bells hanging off his shoes ringing merrily. Luffy waited long enough to snag a pitcher of eggnog and then the door to Shanks’ cabin closed, the sound of the lock clicking into place inaudible over the general din.
That year the joint Mugiwara/Akagami Christmas card featured a Santa with a crooked beard and four scantily clad elves. One was clearly disgruntled, two were flushing faintly from embarrassment and the fourth, with his red hair, was grinning broadly as he posed.
Secondly, a Metalocalypse story.
Title: How the CFO Stole F***in' X-Mas
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: None/Gen
Word Count: 1471
A/N: Same scheme as the original story with 2 extra lines. My apologies to Dr. Seuss
All the Klokateers
Living in Mordland
Liked X-Mas a lot…
But their boss,
Who spent his days stuck in his office
Did NOT!
The CFO hated X-Mas! The whole X-Mas season!
Don’t bother askin’ why. I ain’t got to tell you the reason.
Maybe his head wasn’t screwed on quite right.
It could be that his damn red tie was too tight.
But, since you won’t leave it be, most of all
He thought that Dethklok’s budget was simply too small.
But,
Whatever the hell,
The budget or his tie,
He sat in his office on X-Mas eve, his tired eyes dry
Staring at his computer with a sour, miserly frown
At the sales chart and the black arrow plummeting down.
He knew all the Klokateers and the band they all served,
Were busy now, celebrating with a cheer undeserved.
“And they’re drinking their liquor!” he grumped with a sneer.
“Tomorrow is X-Mas! It’s practically here!”
Then he sighed, with his penny-pinching fingers nervously drumming,
“I MUST find a way to keep X-Mas from coming!”
For, tomorrow, he knew…
…All the Mordland Klokateers
Would wake up for once before noon. They’d rush for their beers.
And then! Oh, the noise! Oh, the noise. Noise! Noise! Noise!
That was on thing he dislked! The NOISE! NOISE! NOISE! NOISE!
Then the band, drunk and hung-over, would sit down to a late brunch.
And they’d lunch! And they’d crunch!
And they’d MUNCH! MUNCH! MUNCH! MUNCH!
They’d start with waffles and delicately roasted squirrel
Which was totally gross because then they’d all hurl!
And THEN
They’d do something that was the wortst in his ken
Dethklok, those usually dim, selfish, childish men,
Would stand around a sack, with their X-Mas booze handy.
They’d drink and joke and smoke and Toki’d eat too much candy!
They’d pass out presents! And black-wrapped favors!
AND they’d GIVE! GIVE! GIVE! GIVE!
But not to charity or for tax purposes, oh no. But because it was X-Mas.
And the CFO glared at his screen and thought, “I must put an end to this business!”
“Why for twelve very long years I’ve put up with it now!
I MUST stop X-Mas from comiing!
…But HOW?”
Then he had a thought!
A terrible thought!
THE CFO
HAD A BRILLIANT, TERRIBLE THOUGHT!
“I know how to fix this!” The CFO grinned, a fearsome sight.
And he dug around in his desk for the forms he would write.
And he schemed and he planned, “They’re not too quick on the uptake.
With this clever substitution, I can get a tax break”
“All I need is an aid…
Someone to do all the dirty work.”
The CFO flipped through a list, then paged the unlucky jerk.
Clothed all in black
With muscled arms and a jaw that was slack,
Number 419 reported for duty.
He was big and a little tipsy from something pink and fruity
And the CFO knew he was strong enough to carry all the booty.
THEN
The CFO picked up his forms
And the key to the warehouse.
“Let’s go,” he said, and led 419 out.
The only witnesses they had were a mouse and its louse.
The night air was dark
As they made their way across
Towards the giant warehouse
That held all the goods that the CFO refused to sell at a loss.
Inside that giant, echoing room, were boxes, bins, and bags
Filled to the brim with t-shirts, wristbands, and skull flags.
There was even an entire case of Dethklok logo ballgags.
But what the CFO wanted was near the back
In an enormous, overflowing pile of cheap, screenprinted black.
“Pack this all up,” he told his poor stooge,
And did nothing to help with the fabric deluge.
419 stuffed, forced, and crammed,
And he folded and he wedged and he jammed
Until half of the mountain was in a new heap.
“Now this is more like it,” the CFO chuckled, “proper gifts for the sheep.”
419 grunted and groaned and strained and strived
While the CFO checked his watch impatiently until they arrived.
Mordhaus was lit from within but dimly
And the fire in the hearth burned sullenly, smoke filling the chimney.
Then there in one corner, the CFO finally saw it,
The sack filled with gifts that had driven him to this fit.
With 419 dragging the substitute presents behind
The cackling CFO went to examine his find.
Bulging with gifts wrapped in matte black paper
He knew, he just KNEW, he could pull off his caper.
All the boxes and bags topped with spiked silver bows
He pulled out and lined up in OCD-straightened rows.
And then he called for 419 and he started his switch
The excess stock he’d taken from the warehouse filling the sack without a hitch.
The CFO had only one minor fright;
But it was just a drunken Pickles wandering in the night.
“Whatcha doin’ chief?” the inebriated man asked with a sleepy sigh
And the CFO thought fast and made up a lie.
“Just making sure you boys bought enough.
It wouldn’t be right if you ran out of stuff!”
“Huh. Well that’s mighty nice o’ ya ta do.
And here I always thought ya hated X-mas too.”
The CFO grinned a sickly sort of grin
And stroked a guilty hand over his chin.
“Well, since it’s all about you boys,
I couldn’t put a stop to one of your greatest joys.”
That mollified the drummer, who was too wasted to see
What the reality in front of him really could be.
And so, with a wave and a swig from his mug
Pickes headed back out to look for more booze or maybe a drug.
Then the CFO turned back to his task
Doing the job himself while 419 stood back and sipped from a flask.
Then he took the original gifts away
And left the room looking like it had all yesterday.
And the last thing he did as he left the room –
The final snub –
Was to turn down the heat in the roomy hot tub.
Then
Sending 419 on his way
The CFO completed his dastardly deceits
And, gifts in tow,
He slunk back to his office
And began to add up all the receipts.
The task took him a while…
All of Mordland, still snoring
All of Mordland, still asleep
While he kept at his job, no matter how boring,
He counted it up, every nickel, penny, and dime!
He checked it twice, and then one final time.
As the clock on his wall quietly sounded the hour,
The CFO stood and stretched and went for a shower.
It was only just nine and he had time yet,
To wash and relax and recount his get.
One point six million in savings he’d made,
With his lie and his trick and the band he’d betrayed.
“Perhaps this year X-Mas really has been waylaid!”
He took his time, scrubbed every inch,
And privately gloated that it had been such a cinch.
Then, round about noon, he decided to check,
So he walked the halls, in blood-red and black tinsel decked,
‘Til he reached the main hall and, over the gathered Klokateer throng craned his neck.
The sight that he saw
Was unexpected to say the least!
For Dethklok stood with arms crossed
Before the sack, its contents not one bit decreased.
He’d been caught, so it seemed
And that CFO turned to run!
But then a deep voice growled out,
“Stop. We need to talk, Ofdenson.”
Five pairs of eyes, all disapproving,
Bore into him until he started moving.
He stood before them, head down and completely busted.
“Wheres,” demanded Toki, “is all ofs our goodies?”
“And seriously,” added Nathan, “what is with you and these hoodies?”
“You lied ta me dood,” Pickles accused.
“And you took all of our schtuff,” Murderface shouted, “while we all schnoozed.”
And the CFO looked frowned and shuffled his feet.
Then he threw up his hands and conceded defeat.
“I know it makes you happy but X-Mas takes money!
And we have so many of these leftover hoodies that it isn’t funny!”
“It’s my job,” he exclaimed, “to keep Dethklok solvent.
But X-Mas costs so much that I couldn’t help my involvement.”
And what happened then…?
Well…in Mordhaus they say
That Skwisgaar rolled his eyes and sneered,
“Fines. I guess den the robots gets his way. We’s will play.”
And the CFO looked up, disbelief on his face,
“You’d do that for me? Despite my disgrace?”
“If yous brings back all de presents, de Klokateers’ gear,
We’s do de benefits concert you’s been naggsings about alls damn year.”
So he brought back the gifts, the boxes, and ribboned battle-axes
And he…
…HE HIMSELF…!
The CFO looked harder and found a loophole and wrote off X-Mas on Dethklok’s taxes.
And a link to the original How the Grinch Stole Christmas
Rating: PG
Pairing: OT5
Word Count: 540
Where the outfits had come from, only the heartily snickering Pirate King knew and no one could get him to stop laughing long enough to lay proper blame. On the bed that now took up most of Shanks’ cabin lay four outfits in colors of red and green and white. Small golden and silver jingle bells served as accents and, horror of horrors, there were shoes with curled toes as well. Three usually stupidly brave men watched, aghast, as the redhead gingerly reached out and touched one. “Hmm, velveteen,” he said, rubbing the fabric between his fingers. “Beats scratchy wool sweaters with pom-poms at least.”
“Have you,” his first mate finally said, the words coming out rather choked while Luffy chortled louder in the background, “SEEN how tiny those things are?”
“All the better to scandalize the old man with, my dear,” Shanks said with a wink, already pulling off his shirt.
“And Grampa too,” Luffy added breathlessly as he panted for air, already wearing a separate outfit of red with white trim.
That was enough to convince the World’s Greatest Swordsman, and the previous holder of said title, memories of Garp’s bellows and ‘love’ punches strong enough to overcome their reasonable hesitation. They’d probably suffer for it in the long run, but even a little revenge at that point was worthwhile.
Ben was the last holdout but he never had been able to resist the combined attack of captain wibbles and, grumbling all the while, finally gave in.
A few minutes later, Luffy bounded out the door and, rather more slowly, the rest of them followed, bells jingling and jangling and making a racket with every footfall. Out on deck, the two crews had all gathered for their yearly dose of holiday entertainment, the special Akagami eggnog already flowing. Usopp, his father hovering nearby as always to dispense his ‘advice,’ had his camera ready, trained on a cushioned chair with various fake presents scattered about.
Catcalls and whistles and Franky’s cry of ‘SUPER!’ and Lucky Roux’s meaty guffaws met the quartet’s entrance while Nami, a wide smile on her face, grudgingly handed ten beri over to her captain along with his beard. “I can’t believe you got them to do it,” she whispered and Luffy just grinned and hooked the white fake facial hair over his ears.
One Gum-Gum Balloon and lots of embarrassment later, and Usopp finally took the shot. The effects of the flash hadn’t even fully cleared before a noisy trio ran clumsily off to change. Shanks lingered a little longer, plopping onto Luffy’s lap. “I know what I want for Christmas now,” he whispered into the Pirate King’s ear. “You better follow quickly so I get all of it.” And then he sauntered off, the bells hanging off his shoes ringing merrily. Luffy waited long enough to snag a pitcher of eggnog and then the door to Shanks’ cabin closed, the sound of the lock clicking into place inaudible over the general din.
That year the joint Mugiwara/Akagami Christmas card featured a Santa with a crooked beard and four scantily clad elves. One was clearly disgruntled, two were flushing faintly from embarrassment and the fourth, with his red hair, was grinning broadly as he posed.
Secondly, a Metalocalypse story.
Title: How the CFO Stole F***in' X-Mas
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: None/Gen
Word Count: 1471
A/N: Same scheme as the original story with 2 extra lines. My apologies to Dr. Seuss
All the Klokateers
Living in Mordland
Liked X-Mas a lot…
But their boss,
Who spent his days stuck in his office
Did NOT!
The CFO hated X-Mas! The whole X-Mas season!
Don’t bother askin’ why. I ain’t got to tell you the reason.
Maybe his head wasn’t screwed on quite right.
It could be that his damn red tie was too tight.
But, since you won’t leave it be, most of all
He thought that Dethklok’s budget was simply too small.
But,
Whatever the hell,
The budget or his tie,
He sat in his office on X-Mas eve, his tired eyes dry
Staring at his computer with a sour, miserly frown
At the sales chart and the black arrow plummeting down.
He knew all the Klokateers and the band they all served,
Were busy now, celebrating with a cheer undeserved.
“And they’re drinking their liquor!” he grumped with a sneer.
“Tomorrow is X-Mas! It’s practically here!”
Then he sighed, with his penny-pinching fingers nervously drumming,
“I MUST find a way to keep X-Mas from coming!”
For, tomorrow, he knew…
…All the Mordland Klokateers
Would wake up for once before noon. They’d rush for their beers.
And then! Oh, the noise! Oh, the noise. Noise! Noise! Noise!
That was on thing he dislked! The NOISE! NOISE! NOISE! NOISE!
Then the band, drunk and hung-over, would sit down to a late brunch.
And they’d lunch! And they’d crunch!
And they’d MUNCH! MUNCH! MUNCH! MUNCH!
They’d start with waffles and delicately roasted squirrel
Which was totally gross because then they’d all hurl!
And THEN
They’d do something that was the wortst in his ken
Dethklok, those usually dim, selfish, childish men,
Would stand around a sack, with their X-Mas booze handy.
They’d drink and joke and smoke and Toki’d eat too much candy!
They’d pass out presents! And black-wrapped favors!
AND they’d GIVE! GIVE! GIVE! GIVE!
But not to charity or for tax purposes, oh no. But because it was X-Mas.
And the CFO glared at his screen and thought, “I must put an end to this business!”
“Why for twelve very long years I’ve put up with it now!
I MUST stop X-Mas from comiing!
…But HOW?”
Then he had a thought!
A terrible thought!
THE CFO
HAD A BRILLIANT, TERRIBLE THOUGHT!
“I know how to fix this!” The CFO grinned, a fearsome sight.
And he dug around in his desk for the forms he would write.
And he schemed and he planned, “They’re not too quick on the uptake.
With this clever substitution, I can get a tax break”
“All I need is an aid…
Someone to do all the dirty work.”
The CFO flipped through a list, then paged the unlucky jerk.
Clothed all in black
With muscled arms and a jaw that was slack,
Number 419 reported for duty.
He was big and a little tipsy from something pink and fruity
And the CFO knew he was strong enough to carry all the booty.
THEN
The CFO picked up his forms
And the key to the warehouse.
“Let’s go,” he said, and led 419 out.
The only witnesses they had were a mouse and its louse.
The night air was dark
As they made their way across
Towards the giant warehouse
That held all the goods that the CFO refused to sell at a loss.
Inside that giant, echoing room, were boxes, bins, and bags
Filled to the brim with t-shirts, wristbands, and skull flags.
There was even an entire case of Dethklok logo ballgags.
But what the CFO wanted was near the back
In an enormous, overflowing pile of cheap, screenprinted black.
“Pack this all up,” he told his poor stooge,
And did nothing to help with the fabric deluge.
419 stuffed, forced, and crammed,
And he folded and he wedged and he jammed
Until half of the mountain was in a new heap.
“Now this is more like it,” the CFO chuckled, “proper gifts for the sheep.”
419 grunted and groaned and strained and strived
While the CFO checked his watch impatiently until they arrived.
Mordhaus was lit from within but dimly
And the fire in the hearth burned sullenly, smoke filling the chimney.
Then there in one corner, the CFO finally saw it,
The sack filled with gifts that had driven him to this fit.
With 419 dragging the substitute presents behind
The cackling CFO went to examine his find.
Bulging with gifts wrapped in matte black paper
He knew, he just KNEW, he could pull off his caper.
All the boxes and bags topped with spiked silver bows
He pulled out and lined up in OCD-straightened rows.
And then he called for 419 and he started his switch
The excess stock he’d taken from the warehouse filling the sack without a hitch.
The CFO had only one minor fright;
But it was just a drunken Pickles wandering in the night.
“Whatcha doin’ chief?” the inebriated man asked with a sleepy sigh
And the CFO thought fast and made up a lie.
“Just making sure you boys bought enough.
It wouldn’t be right if you ran out of stuff!”
“Huh. Well that’s mighty nice o’ ya ta do.
And here I always thought ya hated X-mas too.”
The CFO grinned a sickly sort of grin
And stroked a guilty hand over his chin.
“Well, since it’s all about you boys,
I couldn’t put a stop to one of your greatest joys.”
That mollified the drummer, who was too wasted to see
What the reality in front of him really could be.
And so, with a wave and a swig from his mug
Pickes headed back out to look for more booze or maybe a drug.
Then the CFO turned back to his task
Doing the job himself while 419 stood back and sipped from a flask.
Then he took the original gifts away
And left the room looking like it had all yesterday.
And the last thing he did as he left the room –
The final snub –
Was to turn down the heat in the roomy hot tub.
Then
Sending 419 on his way
The CFO completed his dastardly deceits
And, gifts in tow,
He slunk back to his office
And began to add up all the receipts.
The task took him a while…
All of Mordland, still snoring
All of Mordland, still asleep
While he kept at his job, no matter how boring,
He counted it up, every nickel, penny, and dime!
He checked it twice, and then one final time.
As the clock on his wall quietly sounded the hour,
The CFO stood and stretched and went for a shower.
It was only just nine and he had time yet,
To wash and relax and recount his get.
One point six million in savings he’d made,
With his lie and his trick and the band he’d betrayed.
“Perhaps this year X-Mas really has been waylaid!”
He took his time, scrubbed every inch,
And privately gloated that it had been such a cinch.
Then, round about noon, he decided to check,
So he walked the halls, in blood-red and black tinsel decked,
‘Til he reached the main hall and, over the gathered Klokateer throng craned his neck.
The sight that he saw
Was unexpected to say the least!
For Dethklok stood with arms crossed
Before the sack, its contents not one bit decreased.
He’d been caught, so it seemed
And that CFO turned to run!
But then a deep voice growled out,
“Stop. We need to talk, Ofdenson.”
Five pairs of eyes, all disapproving,
Bore into him until he started moving.
He stood before them, head down and completely busted.
“Wheres,” demanded Toki, “is all ofs our goodies?”
“And seriously,” added Nathan, “what is with you and these hoodies?”
“You lied ta me dood,” Pickles accused.
“And you took all of our schtuff,” Murderface shouted, “while we all schnoozed.”
And the CFO looked frowned and shuffled his feet.
Then he threw up his hands and conceded defeat.
“I know it makes you happy but X-Mas takes money!
And we have so many of these leftover hoodies that it isn’t funny!”
“It’s my job,” he exclaimed, “to keep Dethklok solvent.
But X-Mas costs so much that I couldn’t help my involvement.”
And what happened then…?
Well…in Mordhaus they say
That Skwisgaar rolled his eyes and sneered,
“Fines. I guess den the robots gets his way. We’s will play.”
And the CFO looked up, disbelief on his face,
“You’d do that for me? Despite my disgrace?”
“If yous brings back all de presents, de Klokateers’ gear,
We’s do de benefits concert you’s been naggsings about alls damn year.”
So he brought back the gifts, the boxes, and ribboned battle-axes
And he…
…HE HIMSELF…!
The CFO looked harder and found a loophole and wrote off X-Mas on Dethklok’s taxes.
And a link to the original How the Grinch Stole Christmas
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no subject
Date: 2008-12-25 07:07 pm (UTC)