On the Twelfth Day of Christmas

12 Days of Christmas - Day 12
Unlimited words
Theme: The Nightmare Before Christmas

Elements:
Twelve Drummers Drumming
A Large Moon
Tim Burton
The Song 'This is Holloween'

Day 12

 

Ba-dum ba-dum … ba-dum dum dum.

The sound of a dozen military drummers echo out mechanically as a tall man in a tuxedo is escorted out with the failing light of evening. The well-dressed man is surrounded by six soldiers and lead by an officer with an overtly decorated hat, feathery plumage and all. The man is pushed against a pole standing out of the ground, and his hands tied behind his back, binding him to the pole.

After double checking his bindings, the officer pulls a black cloth from his pocket and gets ready to tie it over the prisoner’s eyes.

The prisoner shakes his head. “No thanks. Would hate to miss such a fine sunset.”

The officer smirks, admiring the man’s courage. He pulls out a pack of cigarettes and pops one out. “Would you like a smoke at least?”

The prisoner stands up straight and says loudly, “Nah. Those things’ll kill ya.”

The officer laughs loudly before muttering, “So I hear…” He turns and leads the soldiers back to their line thirty feet away. As he spins around in an about face to stare at the prisoner the drums finally go silent.

From a nearby building a fat bureaucrat comes waddling out. He’s garishly dressed with more fancy ribbons and medals hanging from his chest than anyone could possibly earn honestly in a life time. He stands up as straight as his padded girth will allow as he produces a scroll from under his arm and begins reading aloud, “Francis Del’Marco… You are accused of the following. Inciting discourse against the monarchy… Plotting to overthrow the monarchy… High Treason… Tax Evasion… Theft of government property… Destruction of government property… Defacing government property with profane and perverse propaganda… And the kidnapping, dressing up in a maids uniform, and illegal confinement in a stockade of the local Governor.” He rolls up the scroll and replaces it under his arm as he adds with a sneer, “You have been found guilty on all counts. The sentence is DEATH… Do you have anything to say before the sentence is carried out?”

Francis begins laughing. “You KNOW I dooo! You fat pompous buffoon! This autocracy WILL fall. And it will fall sooner than either you or that engorged cow of a king expects! The movement has already started and has reached critical mass. If you don’t join it, stay out of its way, or YOU will be crushed! The peoples’ will isn’t something you can kill. The souls of the oppressed are everlasting! We will NOT be silenced!”

The fat man has been getting redder in the face by the moment and finally blares out, “CAPTAIN! You have your orders! Carry them out!”

The drums strike up again in a loud drum roll. The officer shakes his head and withdraws the sword from the scabbard on his hip. He raises it high in the air. “Make Ready! Aim!”

The drums suddenly stop, creating an eerie silence. Francis stands up straight and grins at the soldiers pointing their rifles at him.

“Fire!” The officer brings down his sword and the six soldiers fire in near unison.

Francis gets knocked back into the pole as pieces of fabric go flying from the bullet impacts. He goes limp nearly instantaneously and is only held up by the bindings around his wrist, which give out from a couple impacts and let him flop face first into the dirt.

The captain lowers his head as he replaces his sword in its scabbard and says quietly, “Requiescat in pace…”

 The moon rises slowly as the last light of the day disappears over the horizon. Not only does the moon seem to be rising, but it seems to be getting closer as it grows to a size so large that it dominates the night sky. The fact that it’s changing to an orange-ish red hue doesn’t help calm anyone’s senses.

A deep throated chuckle comes out that grows into a menacing cackle. Francis slowly pushes himself up and glares at the government official with a grin that borders on sadistic glee. As he’s standing up the officer takes a step back in pure disbelief.

Francis climbs to his feet and asks in a booming voice, “Well fatty, what do you have to say for yourself NOW?! You think yourself Tim Burton? Some sort of puppet master who uses the people for his own entertainment? Well Marcus?!”

The pompous official looks around with wild eyes. “H-how is this possible?! Y-you’re dead! I saw it!”

Francis folds his arms across his chest and grins back. “I told you… You CAN’T kill the will of the people.”

The soldiers spin in formation like a closing gate and face Marcus. They bring their rifles down in unison and aim at him. The drummers don’t react, except by setting down their instruments and slowly heading towards the armory. The only ones who seem stunned about the turn of events are Marcus, the government official, and the Captain, the supposed commanding officer.

Francis walks over to the Captain. “Your sidearm please.”

The captain looks around, and stops and stares at the government official.

Marcus yells at the captain, “Oh… you-you, Don’t you DARE!”

The captain sneers and quickly withdraws the pistol and hands it to Francis, who smiles and nods in appreciation. Francis walks in front of the soldiers and says before taking a bow. “Thank you gentlemen, for putting your trust in me. I promise it was not misplaced.” He turns around and faces Marcus. “And, I am not willing to ask anyone else to do anything that I, myself, am not willing to do…”

Marcus and Francis stare at each other in silence for a few moments. The silence is shattered by Francis’ surprisingly accurate pistol fire. He turns around to the crowd and comments, “Well, now they can add ‘Murder of a government official’ to the decree. Come gentlemen, our compatriots have already started, if you haven’t smelled the smoke by now.”

Francis heads for the main gate, where the drummers are already fully equipped with rifles and waiting in formation. As he leads the small procession out of the gate he says with a grin “Let’s go join our friends in throwing a going away party for our dear king…” He gets a wide grin on his face as he begins singing… “Say it once, say it twice… take a chance and roll the dice…RIDE with the moon in the dead of NIGHT!”

The captain stares at the government official’s body as the other’s start leaving. He smiles as he straightens his hat. “Vive la revolution, eh?” He quickly fetches supplies from the armory before following his subordinates.

On the Eleventh Day of Christmas

12 Days of Christmas - Day 11
Unlimited words
Theme: Home Alone

Elements:
Two robbers
11 Pipers Piping
Stolen Toothbrush
The Song 'Rockn' Around the Christmas Tree'

Day 11

A man in a black Utilikilt walks up to his suburban home as he chats on his cell phone. “Yeah! That eleven bagpipe band was amazing! … No I’m not sure how they got the flames shooting out either. We definitely have to do this again next year!” He stops at the door and fishes around for his keys. The frame of the door catches his attention as he notices visible cream colored wood peeking through the white paint of the trim. “Hey… I gotta call you back.” He hangs up and gently grabs the door handle.

After giving it a gentle turn, he pushes it open and finds that the front door has been kicked in. He instantly dials 911 and slowly scans the interior from the doorway. He spots a splotch of red on the ground in the kitchen and walks to investigate. As he’s passing the hallway he notices the entire length looks like a scene from The Shining, with the walls and floors splattered and smeared with blood.

“911, what’s your emergency?”

He looks around quickly and backs towards the front door. “This is Alex Grays. My house has been broken into. I need officers now… there’s blood everywhere too.”

“Officers are on the way… Are you somewhere safe?”

“I… think. I think they may have gone already- oh GOD where’s my dog?!”

 He heads back towards the kitchen and the operator cautions, “Sir, for your own safety, please remain outside the building until the officers arrive.”

“I gotta find my-“

A loud banging noise draws his attention towards the laundry room. As he’s walking around he sees his little Corgi. The dog is sitting on the ground and staring at the laundry room door with extreme interest, not even turning to regard him as he steps closer. He kneels down next to the dog and starts visually examining him. “You okay Minion? You’re covered in blood.”

A shaky voice cries out from the laundry room “Hello?! Is someone out there?”

Alex jumps backwards to his feet. The dog lifts his lip in a snarl and growls at the door.

Another voice whines, “Oh god! Keep that dog away from me! It’s a killer!”

Alex looks down at his little corgi and can’t help but smirk. He kneels down again and removes a ripped piece of denim from the dog’s mouth. “God boy, Minion!”

The first would be robber moans, “Man. We give up. We’re SORRY okay!? Please just call the cops!”

The second man adds, “We’ve been in here for hours and I need to go to the hospital… please… call the cops...”

Alex grins as he says into the phone. “I found the men… there’s at least two. My dog’s got them pinned in the laundry room. Please hurry up with the officers. Also, they may need medical attention so send an ambulance too.”

The door cracks open a bit and the Corgi takes a step towards it as it’s fur stands up in every direction, appearing to double in size as it snarls and snaps at the door. The door quickly shuts and the first man pleads, “Can you please do something with that dog? We’re not going anywhere man. I can barely walk let alone run.”

Alex grabs a chair and sits in it as he stares at the door. “Nope. You’re going to stay right there until the cops get here.” He turns on the radio and starts snapping his fingers to the beat. “…Voices singing let’s be jolly, deck the halls with boughs of holly…”

“You’re as evil as that dog, man,” The second man whines.

Alex shrugs and taps his foot on the floor. “I don’t wanna hear that from some thief… You’ve done enough to try and ruin my Christmas…” This standoff proceeds for another ten minutes before a voice yells from the front door. “This is the Police! Hello?! Mr. Grays?”

“We’re back here in the kitchen, mind the blood slicks…”

A trio of officers walk around cautiously with weapons drawn and look at the man and his dog suspiciously. The dog turns his head towards them, then goes back to snarling at the door when the robbers try to leave again.

Alex waves his cell phone and says, “They’re in here.”

The nearest officer looks down at Minion and asks, “Could you do something with your dog so we can remove them?”

“Sure… I need to make sure he’s not hurt anyway. Come here Minion.” He reaches down and picks up the small Corgi. Instantly it lets its tongue hang out and nuzzles into his neck affectionately. A split second later the door cracks open again and the dog grows in size from hyper extended fur again and snaps at the door. It’s promptly shut again, and the dog goes back to loving on his owner.

The man takes his dog into the bathroom and begins examining and cleaning up the small pooch. After not finding any cuts in his fur, Alex comes out in time to see a pair of very bloody men being carted out on gurneys. The second man has bandages covering his whole face. He moans and mumbles through the gauze, “So many teeth… soooo many teeth! Now I know what hell’s like! I’m getting baptized when I get out of prison, I swear!”

Alex stands just in the hallway with his arms folded over his chest as he chuckles at the men leaving.

An officer comes up and says with reluctance, “Sir… we’re going to have to take the dog.”

Alex looks at him mortified, “What? WHY?! They were in MY houses!”

“Due to the… vicious nature of the attack… there’s a question of rabies.”

Alex rolls his eyes. “Minion’s had his shots. I’ll grab his collar so you can see…” He hurries back to the bathroom and removes the collar from around Minion’s neck. It leaves an interesting impression of clean white fur where the rest is stained with spots of blood. He looks at the sink with an eyebrow raised then hurry’s up to the officer. “Here, see, he’s up to date on his shots… I’ll be right back.”

Running through the house he gets outside as they are loading the injured duo into the back of an ambulance. He runs over and asks with a scowl, “Where the hell is the toothbrush?!”

The thief with the majority of his legs bloody and exposed asks, “What toothbrush?”

Alex looks between the two and says with a grumble. “My limited edition Groot Toothbrush! I know for a fact it was sitting in the sink before I went to the festival this morning!”

The thief with the gauze raises his head and stares blindly at the voice. “Oh, that brown one? I threw it at the dog when it first showed up. Hit’em on the nose. It’s probably at the bottom of the lake of blood I left in there…”

Scrunching his face, Alex turns to the pair of officers nearby. “Hey. Mind if I left my DOG ride with them to the hospital?”

Both of the thieves start thrashing around against their restraints. “No! GOD! NOOOOOOOOOoooooooo!”

On the Tenth Day of Christmas

12 Days of Christmas - Day 10
500 words
Theme: National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation

Elements:
Christmas Lights
Shiter's Full
10 lords a Leaping
A Fried Cat
Christie Brinkley
The Song 'Mele Kalikimaka'

Day 10

Driving charter buses may not seem like the most thrilling job on the planet, but it’s got its moments. Especially in Hawaii. The people are what makes this job interesting. Some, not so much. My current group of British businessmen exemplifies the latter.

I pull into a Chinese restaurant covered in Christmas lights on the west coast, and let the men file out. While they sample the local cuisine, I pig out at the grease hut across the street. There’s nothing like these roadside trailers, especially if the health department has anything to say about it. After polishing off everything else, I decide to finish my triple-layer chili cheese fries back at the bus.

I set my drink on a parking pylon and dig into my fries. I barely get three bites in before some redneck from the Chinese restaurant interrupts me, “Hey, feller! Shiter’s full in there, mind if I use yer bus’?”

“Sorry man, doesn’t have a bathroom. There’s some port-o-pottys next to that hotel they’re building next door though.”

He gives me a quick wave and waddles off in that direction. A few moments later one of my dapper gentlemen comes from the building, followed by others.

He walks up to me with quick strides. “Oh Driver! I say! The privy line in this establishment is quite long! Is there anywhere near that I may relieve myself?”

I point over towards the construction site and say to the growing crowd. “Port-o-pots’ that way.”

One of the men behind him seems to be either brewing coffee, or eaten a live bear, judging from the sound that emanates from his stomach. He folds over and holds his stomach as he says with sweat developing on his forehead, “Bloody hell!”

The sound, like some grotesque mating call, is answered, and echoed, from the bowels of the remaining congregation.

“I thought they were joking when they said they fried cats and fed it to people!” moans another gentleman.

The ten men leap through the air, several holding their rears, on their way to the promised bathrooms. It doesn’t take long before some return in a panic.

A red convertible pulls up blaring the only regional Christmas song I know of, “… Mele Kalikimaka is Hawaii’s way… to Say ‘Merry Christmaaass’ to you…” The song cuts out when the engine. A gorgeous lady in a full length dress steps out and I nearly drop my fries.  To say she looks like Christie Brinkley’s doppelganger wouldn’t be an exaggeration.

As she heads towards the door I call out to her, “Miss!” She turns and faces me. “I wouldn’t eat in there if I were you… It’s trying for a new record on the number of stomachs it can destroy.”

She gives me a flawless smile and grins with a twinkle in her eye. “Wasn’t planning on it. I’m with the Health Department, and this is their surprise inspection…”

I go back to my fries as I add, “A nose plug may be necessary…"

On the Ninth Day of Christmas

12 Days of Christmas - Day 9
250 words
Theme: White Christmas

Elements:
War
Nine Ladies Dancing
Song: White Christmas

Day 9

Nine women dance around in tutus to exact chorography on the surface of an ancient black and white television. A man comes into the dusty room through a hole in a wall that must have been created by indiscriminate explosives. He stares at the silent tv for a few moments before asking, “Why the hell are you watching this shit?”

“It’s Christmas man…” replies a soldier lounging against a pile of rubble.

“But the Nutcracker? Really?” asks his compatriot.

“I’d be watching something else if it was available…”

“White Christmas?”

The man on the ground grins up at him for a moment and starts singing the song quietly, “I’m… dreaming… of a whhiiiiite Christmas…”

His friend leans up against the wall and joins in with him, “Just like the ones… I used to know.”

All around, the voices of the rest of the platoon join in with the melody. Right before they finish the song, high caliber gunfire from the roof drowns them out.

The soldier on the ground hops over to a window and looks at the entrenched crowd half a block away that their machine gun is currently peppering. “Can’t even sing a carol in peace… Crummy war…”

His friend kneels down next to him and pats his shoulder. “Just keep looking forward to that White Christmas, man.”

He glances at his friend and says bitterly, “Just as long as it isn’t the Nuclear Winter variety…”

On the Eighth Day of Christmas

12 Days of Christmas - Day 8
 400 words
Theme: Bad Santa

Elements:
Tattoos
Eight Maids a Milking
Handcuffs
Coal

Day 8

A large man in a fancy Santa suit walks into Bull Dog’s Skin Parlor. He strolls past the counter and heads directly into the back. He knocks on the open door to the office break room with his meaty knuckles before heading over to an empty booth. A lanky man with large gauge piercings in his ears and a Mohawk pokes his head out in time to watch the Santa remove his red satin jacket.

“Hey Chris, here for the next part?” the lanky man asks.

“Yup. Got time for the whole thing?” Chris takes off his undershirt and reveals a canvas covered in tattoos.

“It’s been a slow day. If you got the time, I’m game.”

Chris sits down in the reclined chair with his barrel chest pressed into the seat back. He thumbs towards his right bicep and adds, “Hey, Jack, I’d like a touch up on the cuffs too if there’s time.”

Jack puts on a pair of latex gloves as he leans in and looks at Chris’s massive bicep. He stretches the skin with both hands as he examines the image of the large heart and Christmas tree attached with a pair of handcuffs. “Oh yeah, I see what you mean… I’ll do the line work and touch it up.” He grabs a sheet of paper. “Today’s the ‘eight maids a milking’ right?” He holds up the blue inked outlines of eight woman with milk buckets.

Chris nods and thumbs towards his back, “Right. Center middle of the back.”

Jack carefully positions it, and gently lays it down. After he gets it where he deems appropriate he rubs it on hard to heat it up and transfer the image. He removes the paper and checks to make sure the line work has transferred probably. After placing his template he starts working on his ink and needles as he asks, “Hey, Chris, I been meaning to ask… what’s with your Christmas fetish?”

Chris lets out a warm hearty laugh. “’Fetish’… such a naughty word… I’ve always loved Christmas.” He lets out a sigh and adds, “Plus, the children… It’s an amazing feeling to see their faces light up when I drop off gifts. I’m really making a difference, you know?”

“So, how much coal have you given out?”

Chris turns his head and looks over his shoulder at Jack with a massive grin. “Not. One. Piece.”

On the Seventh Day of Christmas

12 Days of Christmas - Day 7
 400 words
Theme: Rudolph the Red Nose Reindeer

Elements:
Rudolph
Reindeer Games
Abominable Snowman
Seven Swans a Swimming

Day 7

“Laaaaadies aaaand Gentleman! I’d like to welcome you to the 2014 Reindeer games!”  Yells an elf from on top of a pile of presents with a megaphone in his hand. He motions to the right and adds, “I would now like to introduce the big man himself… RUUUUDDOOOLPH!”

Rudolph walks up next to him and bows to the gathered audience. “Hallo! Guten Tag!” He turns to the elf and gets a sour look on his face, “I thought we talked about this Remmy?”

“B-But… Mein Fuhrer! Roesetta Stone… it takes a while to get through… Ja?”

“Ja… it does… I have placed a lot of faith in you, Remmy. I will NOT accept failure… Understand?”

“Ja Mein Fuhrer…”

“Wunderbar!” Rudolph turns around in place to address the crowd. “Thank you for coming! Our first event of the day is the 100 meter free style swim!” He motions towards a large trough cut in the ice where the freezing water barely moves in the gentle artic breeze.

Dasher yells out from his starting position, a trail of yellow snow leading up to him from behind, “It’s too cold! We won’t make it!”

Rudolph grins widely. “Swim fasta then, it’ll keep you from freezing…”

Prancer yells from the next lane, “And where’s Blitzen?”

Rudolph sighs. “Oh, him. He shall not be participating in this event. I had a discussion with him earlier… Oh, Abe?” The abdominal snowman chucks a mangled carcass next to the side of the swimming path.

The other reindeer scream in terror, Dasher makes the yellow puddle under him larger, and both Comet and Cupid vomit at the sight.

“Danke Abe. Blitzen mistakenly thought HE was lead reindeer. We all know different now, Ja?”

Donner screams, “Rudolph! We’re sorry! Please don’t do this!”

Rudolph stamps his hoofs. “You should have thought of THAT before you and the FAT MAN ostracized me! Now get in the water! No flying or you’ll be shot!” They don’t move and Rudolph adds, “Abe, if they don’t move in 10 seconds, use the Luger.”

The deer hop in and quickly start swimming the length.

Rudolph comments. “Look! My own Seven swans a swimming! … I forgot to invite the artic sharks…” He runs over and kicks the remainder of Blitzen’s corpse into the water. Shortly after the water stats frothing with sharks chasing the swimmers in the bloody water. “Oh Dear, my poor swans…”

On the Sixth Day of Christmas

12 Days of Christmas - Day 6
500 words
Theme: Elf

Elements:
Centered around "Buddy the Elf"
Zombie Apocalypse

Lingerie
Six Geese a Laying
Spaghetti and Maple Syrup

Day 6

Terrible things have a way of affecting people. If there was any question in my mind about this being fact, it was all erased early this morning with the beginning of the Apocalypse. I think I’m handling it rather well. Or maybe I’ve completely lost my mind and can’t tell the difference. How does an insane man know he’s insane?

Whatever my current mental status is, I know my friend has completely lost his mind. I’ve known Buddy since high school. We went to the same college so we’d both have someone we knew. We came home for Winter Break, and all hell broke loose on Christmas Eve. I have the benefit of knowing my family went peacefully, at least as peacefully as someone can go via a fuel tanker explosion. Buddy wasn’t so lucky.

I fought my way to Buddy’s house, and found the carnage. His family had been overwhelmed and he was fighting with animalistic vigor. We managed to get out, and to the mall where we both worked. Being an assistant manager has its advantages, and I let us in via the back door to our crappy fast food kiosk. We’d probably be fine in here long enough for the military to get everything under control, if it hadn’t been for the jerks that drove their SUV through the front door of the mall. They got overwhelmed and only succeeded in separating us from the supplies that would have kept us going for weeks.

So here I am, holding the doors to the maintenance area, and trying to keep the horde out. I really don’t think these doors are going to hold much longer and I debate on the merits of clogging the hallways with bodies.

“Buddy! Where are you man! I need some help!”

“Over here!” Buddy’s voice cheerfully comes from the main hall. He prances into view, and yes PRANCES is the correct word to describe his entrance. Of all the horrors I have witnessed, NOTHING could have prepared me for what greets my eyes at this very moment.

Buddy, my pleasantly plump, basement-dwelling, otaku of a friend, is spinning around giddily in what must be an outfit from Victoria’s Secret. Seeing such a hairy meat bag exploding out of some holiday themed lingerie, fairy wings and all, which was made to fit a woman sized zero is more than I can handle.

Buddy strikes a pose as he says happily. “I’m Buddy the Elf! I’m Santa’s little helper! Look! I have a package for you!” He compliments the statement with a few full body pelvic thrusts.

I recoil away from him and fall into a stack of sports equipment, letting the zombies in. Buddy grabs up a large baseball bat and screams, “Such bad little boys!” and quickly goes to work.

I eat spaghetti and maple syrup, our only supplies, as Buddy begins arranging the corpses with the heads under their own rears. “Look! See! Its six geese a laying! Ha HAH hah HA!”