#Ask Donder

[moonkit60633]

He’s overwhelmed

[wolfram-but-art]

These private asks r like letters I can only see them in my submission box

oh sick

[scriveyner]

so be good for goodness sake

Atsushi watched out of the corner of his eye as Ryuu-chan industriously dragged the kitchen chair over to where he was standing at the counter and climbed somberly up beside him. He continued to chop vegetables for a moment, before turning his head slightly toward Ryuu-chan, eyebrow lifted. “Yes?”

“I would like a pet,” Ryuu-chan said. “For Christmas.”

Atsushi didn’t stop his prep work. “You already have a pet, Ryuu-chan.”

Ryuu-chan folded his arms and frowned. “Acchan is too much work.”

Continue on AO3 or

Atsushi heard Akutagawa suck in a breath and start coughing in a vain attempt to smother a laugh. He glared over the sink into the main room, but Akutagawa kept his head down and hand over his mouth, shoulders shaking.

“I wasn’t talking about Acchan,” Atsushi said, and Ryuu-chan scrunched up his nose. “That’s not a nice thing to say about your brother. Besides,” he added, scraping the chopped vegetables into a bowl. “You both have a cat.”

“Oh.” Ryuu-chan held onto the top of the chair and considered this for a moment. “Can I at least trade Acchan for a velociraptor? Dazai-oji said Santa allows trade-ins.”

Akutagawa’s coughing grew more violent.

 Atsushi inhaled. “How do you think Acchan would feel if he knew you wanted to trade him in for another pet?”

“I’ll ask him.”

“Don’t—” Atsushi watched Ryuu-chan hop off the chair and bolt around the corner. He sighed and then pointed his knife at Akutagawa’s head from across the room. “Stop laughing.”

Acchan tore around the corner so hard he bounced off a cabinet, rattling the pans inside. “Is it true Ryuu-chan can trade me to SANTA? I want to fight a reindeer!!!”

Ryuu-chan followed him excitedly into the kitchen. “See, he doesn’t mind!”

Atsushi pushed one hand through his hair and sighed. “Why do you want to fight a reindeer, Acchan?”

“Dazai-oji said if I defeat a reindeer, I get its ability to fly! I want to fly like Chuuya-oji!”

Ryuu-chan gestured at Acchan with both hands. “See? ‘niisan wants to fly and I want a velociraptor. Everyone wins.”

“Yes,” Akutagawa said dryly from the main room, still seated but somehow having regained his composure. “Everybody wins.”

Both of the kids swiveled back to Atsushi, eyes wide and bright.

“First,” Atsushi said, “I’m going to call Santa and report that Dazai-oji has been telling lies again—”

Acchan grabbed him by the apron. “You can call Santa!?”

Ryuu-chan grabbed his other side. “I want to talk to Santa!”

“Tell him I’ll fight Donder, Chuuya-oji said he sounded weak!”

“DAD PRIVILEGE,” Atsushi roared, and they both stopped talking over each other, startled at the volume. “Then I’m going to tell him someone wants to trade in his brother and someone else wants to fight his reindeer.”

Acchan and Ryuu-chan froze, each still hanging off opposite sides of Atsushi’s apron.

“I don’t think Santa will consider either of those things very nice.”

Ryuu-chan and Acchan looked at each other and then released the apron. “Uh,” Acchan said, and Ryuu-chan caught his brother’s sleeve.

“I don’t want to trade Acchan in,” he said. “I’ve changed my mind.”

“Good.” Atsushi looked at Acchan.

“I still want to fight a reindeer,” Acchan said.

“Try again.”

“Uh…it doesn’t have to be Santa’s reindeer?”

Ryuu-chan leaned into him and whispered, “Only Santa’s reindeer can fly.”

“Oh.” Acchan frowned. “I guess…I don’t want to fight Santa’s reindeer.”

“Good enough.” Atsushi started to shoo them out of the kitchen and almost tripped over the chair Ryuu-chan drug in. “Please take the chair with you when you go.”

“I still want a velociraptor for Christmas,” Ryuu-chan added, his Rashomon lifting the chair slightly before him as he returned it to the table.

“Yeah, we’ll see,” Atsushi said, watching the kids disappear back toward their rooms. Hands on his hips, he looked back over at Akutagawa, who now had acquired a newspaper and was hiding behind it. “Thanks for the help.”

“I thought you handled that well.”

“I’m going to kill Dazai-san.”

“I would prefer to have dinner before you go on a homicidal rampage.”

Atsushi sighed and returned to the kitchen. “Maybe after dinner.”

#

Atsushi stood beside the bunk bed as the kids readied for sleep. “I still can’t believe you’d give away your big brother forever, Ryuu-chan,” he said, shaking his head.

Ryuu-chan leaned over the edge of his bed, the battered old hedgehog plush that Akutagawa’s sister had given him tucked tight under one arm. “But it wouldn’t have been forever.”

Akutagawa was putting away the clean laundry, one ear clearly on the conversation. “Explain.”

“Well,” Ryuu-chan said, “Acchan would go with Santa and defeat a reindeer and learn how to fly, then he’d come home on his own and I’d get both a velociraptor and my brother. I wouldn’t have to choose.”

“Yeah!” Acchan said. “And I’d eat it, too!”

“You’re not allowed to eat Red!”

“What? No, I meant the reindeer.”

“Oh. You can eat all the reindeer; I don’t care about the reindeer.”

Acchan made a noise of triumph from the bottom bed. Atsushi leaned his elbow against the bunk and sighed. “Ryuu-chan, if he ate the reindeer, how would Santa get his presents to you?”

Ryuu-chan blinked owlishly. “Magic.”

“Flawless logic,” Akutagawa said. “I agree with our son, let’s trade Acchan to Santa, maybe he’ll learn some manners while he’s gone.”

“YES!” Acchan yelled, punching the air.

Atsushi glared at Akutagawa, who simply smirked at him. “Well I talked to Santa while you both were in the bath,” he said, still glaring at Akutagawa. “And the North Pole isn’t taking any returns this year, not just on brothers. So you’re out of luck.”

“Always next year,” Akutagawa said, laundry basket on his hip as he exited the room.

“Maybe I should inquire about trading in husbands,” Atsushi yelled after, and the boys giggled. “No more talk of trade-ins, I mean it. If Dazai-oji tells you anything else weird, tell me right away. Santa wants to know.”

Ryuu-chan frowned. “Dazai-oji said every Christmas tree is actually an alien who is waiting for us to fall asleep in front of it so it can eat us.”

“Oh my god,” Atsushi said with a large sigh.

Acchan pulled his covers up to his chin. “And Dazai-oji said that when you and Dad lock your door it means you’re smacking your swords together.”

Atsushi stared blankly at Acchan for a moment. Then he patted Acchan’s shoulder and said, “Good night, Acchan. Good night, Ryuu-chan.”

Their door had barely closed behind them when both kids heard Atsushi yell, “RYUUNOSUKE, I’M GOING TO KILL HIM.”

Ryuu-chan leaned over the top of his bunk. “Stupid,” he hissed at Acchan. “Dad doesn’t even own any swords; we couldn’t find them! That means Dazai-oji was lying about that!”

“Well, he asked,” Acchan said defensively. “What was I supposed to do, lie? Santa is listening.”

“You lied earlier when you said you didn’t want to fight a reindeer.”

“And you still want to trade me to Santa, so we’re even.”

They stared at each other for a moment, frowning. Their détente was broken by some muffled noises from downstairs, and the distinct, uncanny sound of their father laughing. “Ooh, it’s creepy when dad laughs like that,” Ryuu-chan said, now distracted.

Acchan snuggled under his covers. “Christmas trees don’t eat people.”

“Some trees do,” Ryuu-chan said with surety.

“But not Christmas trees.”

“Not Christmas trees,” Ryuu-chan agreed. “Goodnight ‘niisan.”

“I’d kick Donder’s butt.”

“Goodnight, ‘niisan.”

“Night.”

[santaverse]

[ LOCATION ] : THE DIMENSION OF AUTHORITY; MIAMI, FLORIDA, DECEMBER 24TH 10:32 PM

Well this came a lot faster than expected, didn't it? The night of Christmas Eve was here! Despite this year's abrupt change in scenery, the Santa Clauses were all prepped and ready to deliver presents! In the front lawn of Nick St. Nicholas' mansion were swarms of sleighs (and one lone stagecoach for Reason), each belonging to many different Santas.

As the final adjustments were being made, the man of the hour himself; Mr. St. Nicholas himself exited the doors of his Mansion. Unlike himself though, Mr. St. Nicholas was donned in a typical Santa Claus attire; complete with a red suit, his blonde hair having turned into luscious gray hair, a long beard (the latter being fake), and a big smile on his face. The other Santas could hardly recognize him!

" Ho, Ho, HO!!~ "

" Attaboy, Mr. Nicholas! "

Nick St. Nick took his compliments in stride, merely nodding to the others as he passed them on the way to his sleigh. Jasper stood beside St. Nick's sleigh, awaiting his arrival- but, it was who was standing next to Jasper that caused the royal Santa to come to a stop.

" ...Father? You came? "

King Nicholas XX merely chuckled at his son's question.

" Hohoho, of course! You think I would miss seeing my own successor's debut? You look... " He sniffled. " Marvelous, my boy. "

Nick St. Nick pulled his lips inwards and lightly bit down on them- an effort to block any tears from coming out. He lowered his head, then raised it with a beaming smile.

" Thanks, Dad. "

The two Santas shared a genuine look of pride between each other, not uttering another word after their praises were given. They were basking in the moment- both of them.

Jasper, having stood by and watched the two's interaction, silently pulled out a handkerchief from his suit pocket and dabbed his eyes. Afterward, he cleared his throat.

" Ahem, not to interrupt, but we simply must get going, sir. "

" R-Right you are Jasper, " Nick St. Nick replied. " Do look after the place while I'm gone, father. "

King Nicholas XX nodded in response.

" Will do, son. The two of you have a safe flight! "

With the King's blessings, Nick St. Nick leapt into his sleigh alongside Jasper, his head elf. Almost like clockwork, many different portals to different worlds began to open on the massive lawn. Mr. St. Nick marveled at the portals, gasping at what little glimpses he could catch of the different worlds.

Aside from him, Classic grinned. The wonder of a Santa Claus' first year together always brought a smile to his face.

" Well, Mr. Nicholas? " Classic asked. " We're in your world, why don't you give the honors? "

Mr. St. Nick looked at his reigns, nodded, tightened his grip on them, then with a flick of his wrists he shouted.

" On Dasher! Now, Dancer! Now, Prancer and Vixen! On, Comet! On Cupid! On, Donder and Blitzen! Now dash away! Dash away! Dash away all! YEEHAW!! "

With St. Nick's call, not only his sleigh, but ALL other Santa sleighs began to float and take off! As the Santas rushed for their portals, they (mostly) all began to shout,

" Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good-night! "

[cerriddwenluna]

List five things that make you happy, then put this in the ask box of the last ten people who reblogged something from you. Spread the positivity! (no pressure ofc!!)

En dan gaan we door naar de volgende 5 willekeurige dingen die mij gelukkig maken =D

6. Avalon en Pandora

7. Mijn familie

8. Onweer (maar dan wel echt een goede storm, en niet maar een paar lullige donders en 1 bliksem...)

9. Een heet bad

10. Muziek (en dan vooral die nummers die je voelt tot in je ziel en botten)

[barbaramoorersm]

November 17, 2024

November 17, 2024

Thirty-Third Sunday in Ordinary Time

Daniel 12: 1-3

This Old testament prophet refers to what we call” the end times.”

Psalm 16

God is described as One who promises fidelity and protection from corruption.

Hebrews 10: 11-14,18

Jesus is referred to as the great high priest.

Mark 13: 24-32

Jesus speaks of the “final days.”

The words of Mark this weekend remind us of the words of Daniel the prophet which point to the “end times.”  One author tells us that apocalyptic warnings such as Daniel and Mark share today about the “end times,” often come from a people who are frightened or threatened.  During the time Mark is writing, his listeners are struggling with upheaval and poverty in their community.  Many wanted to overcome the great power of Rome’s dominance over the community. The motive of Gospel is to move people from great fear to hope that the Son of Man would return.  But Mark is very clear that “of that day or hour, no one knowns, neither the angels in heaven, nor the Son but only the Father.”  The apocalyptic images we hear today are vivid and dramatic and their point is to share that God will bring new life.  At times, such language is compared to a woman’s labor pains which lead to the joy of birth and new life.

Our nation has just moved in and out of a painful moment for some and a joyful moment for others, as we ended our election cycle.  But as Mark tells us, God is in charge and will guide us into the future if we remain open to the Gospel and the One, we serve.

Father Joseph Donders, a former missionary in Africa writes, that, as we observe the growth of the fig tree Jesus mentions in the Gospel, we are invited to keep looking around us and we will see, small buds, growth, new life, and eventually dead limbs break during the process. Joy and suffering are always present in life and the cycle continues. 

Our focus on joy or sorrow needs to rest in our Christian faith which always contains a promise of new life.   We are being asked to trust in God and to pray for the new life that we all need.  My guess is that each one of us during our long or short lives have experienced great sorrow and pain but as we work through the situations we are in, with God’s grace newness can be found.  That does not eliminate the pain that we experience but our life tells us that newness can be sought and found.  Life also teaches us that we are needed to help alleviate the pain and sorrow of one another.  The Psalmist this Sunday give us a glimpse of the new life that is promised even in the most difficult times.

“O Lord, my allotted portion and my cup,

You it is who hold fast my lot.

I set the Lord over me;

With God at my right hand, I shall not be disturbed.”

[themikithornburg]

ELMER MCCURDY

In honor of September, or of outlawry, perhaps... or maybe just of nostalgia, I’m getting this online, where I hear that it, like everything else, will stay ineradicably until doomsday or until the Yellowstone volcano goes off, whichever comes first.

This poem was written in 1977 by my late husband, Thomas R. Thornburg. It’s included in his Collected Poems, available on Amazon. It presents the history of the 20th century in a nutshell – a largish nutshell but a nice, knobbly, crunchy one.

Elmer McCurdy (1869-1911)  (1911-

     1976)

(HISTORICAL NOTE:  At the bicentennial celebrating the birth of these United States, a curious discovery was made. The mummified remains of Elmer McCurdy, who was known in his first life as The Oklahoma Badman, were discovered hanging in a Los Angeles carnival called “Laugh in the Dark Funhouse.”  Elmer, who was discovered by a crewman for the Six Million Dollar Man television show, had in his first life been a train robber operating out of Pawhuska, Oklahoma. In 1911 he was slain in a desperate gun battle, thus ending his first life. The sheriff who killed Elmer sold him to a carnival sideshow. So began Elmer’s second life, a life in which he was mistaken for a wax dummy and exhibited all over the United States. In 1940, Elmer was stored in a warehouse with a collection of wax dummies [real dummies, if we assume that Elmer was never a dummy] and in 1968 Elmer was sold again, then again, then again, and he hung around until the TV crewman, fiddling with him, caused his arm to fall off and reported that one of the figures was no dummy. After he was formally identified, Elmer McCurdy was trundled back to Pawhuska, Oklahoma, and buried under a large granite boulder. Thus his career, begun in 1869, ended in 1976.)

In Pawhuska, Oklahoma, where the rolling purple plains

Have turned to dust beneath the wheel of Time,

At the turn of this last century, having come around to crime,

Elmer McCurdy turned to robbing trains.

There the ghost of John Brown’s body walks the bloody Kansas flat,

And the shades of Frank and Jesse James ride by in mask and hat;

What the freezing winds of winter or the deadly summer suns

Will not tender, men may render with a gun.

O, there’s just as many live outside as live inside the law

And old Elmer was as far-out then as any ever saw;

When he strapped a reputation on and rode to Dead Man’s Pass,

He said the world could kiss his outlaw ass.

He was so mad, so truly bad, so dangerous to know,

He was Manfred in a cowboy suit; he was Grendel on the go;

He’d a six-gun for his Cicero and dynamite for brains,

And he hated anything as straight as trains.

            Hurdy-gurdy

            Down and dirty

            Elmer McCurdy

            Whoopee ti

Now when Elmer commenced blowing up the bends of all the track,

Stationmasters of disaster started crying for some slack,

And bankers started bitching as they sang the business blues

And they asked their sassy sheriff what to do,

            What to do?

            What to do, do, do?

            O, they asked their sassy sheriff what to do?

Now, this sheriff was as bad an inlaw as you ever saw;

He was Donder on a drunk man, he was Blitzen on the draw;

He was Una in a union suit, a buckskin Charlemagne,

And he hated folks for robbing, hopping, or for pulling train.

So he printed up a circular and sent it all around,

And it said that they intended to put Elmer in the ground,

And it said if anybody else would like to join the fun,

There was money for a posse to keep Elmer on the run.

It was nineteen and eleven in the merry month of May

When Elmer saddled up and rode to rob one sunny day,

And he rode from dawn to daylight and he yodeled as he rode

For the silver in the saddlebags of swag that he bestrode;

And he whistled quite merrily as he rode out of the draw

But dumb behind him rode the dogging Law.

Elmer went about his work through June and through July,

And he robbed quite conscientiously as summer cantered by;

Through the grim dog days of August and in warm September rains

Old Elmer never missed a day of work at robbing trains.

In the dappled chase of Autumn when the wild October wind

Raced the chuffing locomotive down the chute to Dead Man’s Bend,

Elmer rode like sixty-seven, like the Devil on the loose

Going crazy in the saddle when the iron from his cayuse

Was arcing fire from rail to rail coming up on that caboose;

He’d a hotbox on his starboard hip and a cog caught in his brain,

While underneath his Stetson ran a single-track refrain,

And he would have died unsatisfied if he could not rob trains.

All the passengers was puzzled until Elmer made it clear

To stick ‘em up as he threw down against the engineer;

And when he ran things down for them the crew began to shake,

But the whistle blew, and the brakeman knew, and he threw down the brake.

Then the people started grinning when he reined up on the track

And he nabbed a couple railroad cops and robbed ‘em back to back;

He was laughing like a goblin as the people passed the word

That it was hurdy-gurdy

            Down and dirty

            Elmer McCurdy

            Whoopee ti

But it was his final caper there that Elmer ever turned

For he had infuriated far too many he had burned;

You may read it in the papers there, the Oklahoma press

Says he tried to draw against John Law and came out second best.

O, the Pawhuskans applauded when they brought old Elmer in

And their preachers copped an opportunity to steal on sin;

And the teachers taught the sons and daughters truths about the gun,

But the truth of truths

                        they could not use      

                                    and still abuse

                                                            is                                                         

Elmer did it all for fun.

            Hurdy-gurdy

            Down and dirty

            Elmer McCurdy

            Whoopee ti

It’s down in books in libraries if any think I lie:

How they claimed they could cool Elmer’s act and hang him high and dry;

But Elmer fooled the hangman and the folks when he went West

With a 32:20 dum-dum slug behind his Sunday vest.

Well, the undertaker undertook to empty Elmer out

And had boxed him up quite proper when the folks began to shout

(Underneath the rouge and lipstick you could see old Elmer grin)

That there was no ground for miles around that he could put him in.

 Well, that puts the undertaker into something of a stew,

So he goes and asks the Sheriff what the hell he’s gonna do?

And the Sheriff said, “I delivered him dead; now you’ll have to decide.”

Well, the undertaker wrung his hands, and stomped his feet, and cried,

And I think he went and took a drink, and walked around outside

A little while (about a mile) and shook his head and sighed;

Then he went back home and got a comb and parted Elmer on the side,

And he put his robber outfit on him like he used to ride,

And then, dig:  he took his biggest rig and ran him up on formaldehyde,

And this coroner hung him up inside his corner closet where he dried,

And he said, “God!  He’s purty!”

            Hurdy-gurdy

            Down and dirty

            Elmer McCurdy

            Whoopee ti

So, though they could not make, they could not take, nor put him into jail,

They socked his hard-case carcass on the old South-Western Mail,

And if you laid a sawbuck down you drew nine dollars change

To see old train-robbing Elmer robbing people from the train.

And they hung a sign around his neck that said to come and see

The Oklahoma Bad-man (women and children admitted free).

So from Tulsa down to Ponca City Elmer made the scene,

From Shawnee down to Bartlesville and all spots in between,

From Wichita to Enid Elmer made a million miles

Exchanging trains through sun and rain, and all the changing styles.

The years ran by like rabbits; people did what people do;

The Yanks went over and came back, and twenty- three skidoo;

America went on the wagon, people stayed at home,

And Henry Sinclair pulled a caper called the Teapot Dome;

We kidnapped Tutankhamen and put him in the bank

And Richard Loeb and Leopold kidnapped Bobby Franks;

We dedicated Lincoln and earned the world’s applause

And then we put Marcus Garvey in the can for breaking nigger laws;

An Oklahoma Walton tried to stand up like a man

And in due process was impeached by the local Ku Klux Klan;

Half the nation spun around when the wild tornadoes blew

And the other half hummed right along to Rhapsody in Blue;

Folks pitched in to bathtub gin or radiator raw;

Jack Scopes got busted for trying to make a monkey out of the law;

The eight-hour workday was declared to be When Day Is Done,

And Our Lord Ford sent down the word to give everybody one;

Gene Tunney took a funny count that made the people swear

And Sacco and Vanzetti took a hot-squat in the chair;

Alphonse Capone took a fall one Philadelphia morn,

Steamboat Willie made the scene and Mickey Mouse was born;

And folks said, “Hi!” to passersby, or “How ya doin, fine?”

And Al Capone sent Bugs Moran a funny valentine;

Mrs. Harding showed the world the inconstancy of class,

And funny Albert theorized the inconstancy of mass;

The Scottsboro Boys got bum-rapped for that Alabama thing,

And Herbert Hoover signed into law a song no one can sing;

FDR cut his new deal to keep us free from fear

And when he asked us what we wanted, we said, “We Want Beer!”

One hundred thousand homeless kids roamed the Big Apple’s digs,

And Walter Disney pork-barreled an empire from Three Little Pigs;

The bottom broke out of the joke; the nation was a sink;

We prohibited Prohibition and everybody took a drink;

The Catholic League of Decency decided what was meet,

And Irish Catholic coppers killed strikers in the street;

John Dillinger took in a movie one Chicago day,

He took his ticket C.O.D. and came back D.O.A.

Joe Louis flattened Maxie Baer to let the whole world know,

And John L. flattened Bill Hutcheson and started the C.I.O.

Then Roosevelt ran past Alf Landon; Jesse Owens ran like scat,

And fourteen thousand Goodyear Rubber Workers sat down flat.

Three thousand Americans organized to fight the King of Spain

While General Motors tried to flush their families down the drain.

Three thousand Americans dead in Spain to support the commonweal,

While in Chicago their brothers died fighting U.S. Steel;

The Garment Workers dropped a stitch; labor buttons were worn;

We gave Czechoslovakia to Hitler—and Wrong-Way Corrigan was born;

Then Hitler gave Lindbergh a medal and Lucky Lindy made the news

Again by blaming the Second World War on Roosevelt and the Jews;

And the lid blew off like Krakatoa; America went to war,

And then came home and went to work in the Army Surplus Store;

The century passed the halfway mark, the nation changed its clothes,

We busted half of Hollywood and then busted Tokyo Rose;

The filthy bearded communists with their filthy bearded bombs

Crept in and hid beneath the bed in loyal American homes;

Kids signed their letters S.W.A.K. and sealed ‘em with a kiss,

And Good Sir Richard saved the day and busted Alger Hiss;

Hello, Young Lovers, whoever you are, I’ve been in love like you;

It was craaaazy, man, the times were rare, like— twenty-three skidoo.

Twenty-three skidoo?

Great googlie-wooglies!  I almost forgot

Old Elmer McCurdy hanging in here somewhere, left to rot;

They gave old Elmer a flattop and they combed his hair in ducks,

And by some means they pegged his jeans and dressed him in white bucks;

Then the fella who owned Elmer had to hock him for a while,

So they hung him in a fun-house up above the main turnstile.

But your customer there didn’t seem to care, nor noticed nothing funny

About the scene—you know what I mean—at least he paid his money

To see the show—and rightly so, if Elmer was a dummy.

Give a Hippy marijuana and you know how he’ll act:

He’ll rape your wife and your whole damn family: IT’S A PROVEN FACT!

The Electric Kool-Aid Acid Test! Mr. Natural! Window Pane!

We took a toke on a little dope, and then did it all again:

Hell, No, I Won’t Go; I’m leaving on a jet plane;

Here’s the word from Thunderbird (you know it makes you sick)

Acid made our face break out, and so did Tricky Dick.

We decimated Viet Nam; Calley took a rap;

We gave the Orient our grain, and they gave us the clap.

We learned to hate the word Watergate; we learned about the fix,

But the rednecks all went Hippy; the Hippies all went arty,

And we invited all of us to our own birthday party,

And it was Nineteen-Seventy-Six.

They say the Six Million Dollar Man can jump a country mile,

They say he has an eye can see behind your whitest smile,

They say he has the baddest moves the outlaws ever saw,

They say, in the modern world of today, he is The Law.

Well, the whole thing blended when they intended to make a TV show

About the Six Million Dollar Man for less than half that dough

(The little children in Appalachia laughed and clapped their hands

While their little rickety knees stuck out like rubber bands):

They cast it in a fun-house, where the lights and cameras run,

And they sent a dude to rearrange the dummies, just for fun;

So when he climbed through layers of Time the dust there made him cough,

And when he leaned too hard on Elmer, Elmer’s arm fell off!

Yep, it was old hurdy-gurdy

            Down and dirty

            Elmer McCurdy

            Whoopee ti

Well, they called the Sheriff right away and he rode through the town

And handcuffed half the carnival and third-degreed the clown,

And made the folks stand outside the ropes while they cut Elmer down.

And then they told the story through—a little less than I’ve told you,

I guess because I’m wordy.

And there’s your story, ain’t it funny about a fun-house mummy

Who lived to hang and hanged to live; now tell me, who’s the dummy?

But there it is. . . the whole damned shot, and now the song is sung,

But the thing that hangs around for me is: was he hanged? Or was he hung?

Was he right, riding into night?  Or was he wrong, dead wrong?

Or can we finish Elmer off, even in a song?

Is there some reason (is it treason?) that keeps a man from harm

It took two centuries of Law and Order to disarm?

Well, one day when your children steal enough horsepower from the sun

And their children laugh like maniacs and light out on the run,                                                                       

I trust they’ll sup a stirrup-cup and live life hurdy-gurdy

When I am down, and dirty, like

                                         Elmer McCurdy

                                                             Whoopee ti

[ketchhhaglendadelle]

Town map

Wild cards now frustrated Scout asks what the sam hill the members here a clatter

Impossible man'3po

Ghetto loans bear stearns and bow

Button halter skort

Guess where the stairway to heaven leads forthwith

オビーハン

Begoniaベゴニア

Mozzarella Garlic Toastanas my day was good中み日was

good...

spearsSpearsArrowofSpears

And

Lift

Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house

Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse;

The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,

In hopes that St. Nicholas soon would be there;

The children were nestled all snug in their beds;

While visions of sugar-plums danced in their heads;

And mamma in her 'kerchief, and I in my cap,

Had just settled our brains for a long winter's nap,

When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,

I sprang from my bed to see what was the matter.

Away to the window I flew like a flash,

Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash.

The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow,

Gave a lustre of midday to objects below,

When what to my wondering eyes did appear,

But a miniature sleigh and eight tiny rein-deer,

With a little old driver so lively and quick,

I knew in a moment he must be St. Nick.

More rapid than eagles his coursers they came,

And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name:

"Now, Dasher! now, Dancer! now Prancer and Vixen!

On, Comet! on, Cupid! on, Donder and Blitzen!

To the top of the porch! to the top of the wall!

Now dash away! dash away! dash away all!"

As leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,

When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky;

So up to the housetop the coursers they flew

With the sleigh full of toys, and St. Nicholas too—

And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof

The prancing and pawing of each little hoof.

As I drew in my head, and was turning around,

Down the chimney St. Nicholas came with a bound.

He was dressed all in fur, from his head to his foot,

And his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot;

A bundle of toys he had flung on his back,

And he looked like a pedler just opening his pack.

His eyes—how they twinkled! his dimples, how merry!

His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry!

His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,

And the beard on his chin was as white as the snow;

The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth,

And the smoke, it encircled his head like a wreath;

He had a broad face and a little round belly

That shook when he laughed, like a bowl full of jelly.

He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf,

And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself;

A wink of his eye and a twist of his head

Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread;

He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,

And filled all the stockings; then turned with a jerk,

And laying his finger aside of his nose,

And giving a nod, up the chimney he rose;

He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle,

And away they all flew like the down of a thistle.

But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight—

“Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good night!”

The Librarian Breeds Liberty虹Homily to discipline 鹿

麕Elsa Hand Width

麝elon masculine depth

DISCORD ALIENATION National limericks

As the saying goes, there are, the haves, and the have nots

trick or treat (*＾3＾)/～☆Isengard 旗Mighty TIE

肌jAperone

にやsmile Jill used claw

Shank your camerati

蚊bibit

Stubbulah

Biden: From our early gaze separating shoe racks from Nikei and Nike from Canon. Before 98° and before 4jumanji moe glee eleven spinal tap palm tree bark, since I hear Palin could be back in the running

[drawbauchery]

I love how they all have teeny tiny adorable prancey paws and then Donner has these fucking HOOVES.

DONNER DON’T MESS AROUND

[eldritchqueerture]

(Audio belongs to WOE.BEGONE Industries LLC)

Transcript:

“Chris, Ryan - Mike Walters. He’s the new guy,” Hunter said. “Nice to meet you,” they said almost in unison. Aaaand this is awkward. Sorry guys, we already have a Chris and Ryan on WOE.BEGONE. These were not they. Clearly, the writers of reality did not take into account the fact that putting more people in my life with these exact names would make it harder to tell my life story in the form of a podcast? They didn’t say their last names either, and I didn’t ask because that would be a weird thing to do. So I’m gonna call ‘em... Blorpo and Donder. I really hope they don’t become important enough that I regret that decision.

[cut]

“Personally it was to get away from my old friends,” Donder said. “That means drugs,” Blorpo said. “Yeah, basically. Nothing too hard but the whole situation was making me live wrong and it was starting to make me really unhealthy. I’m getting too old to live like I did when I was 25,” Donder said. Blorpo didn’t tell his story, which means it was either too boring or too dark for the conversation. “Do you like it here so far, Mike?” Blorpo asked.

[cut]

“This asshole got a golf cart on his first day. I don’t know why.” Donder pointed his thumb at Blorpo. “Because I was a game warden for two years before I came out here!” Blorpo said. “Not all of us get here fresh off a GED.” “No need to get all testy, Blorpo,” Donder said and took-Okay, I-I, I already hate this. It was funny but I’m already tired of saying Blorpo. What if he’s Flinch and I have to keep saying Blorpo for like 10 more seasons? [mockingly] “I like the show but one of the characters is named Blorpo and I just can’t take it seriously anymore! Two stars!” I don’t know what that voice was. How about... Chance and Shadow. Chris is Chance is Blorpo and Ryan is Donder is Shadow.

[allthingslinguistic]

As part of this study, Pouw instructed 3 men and 3 women to make a monotone sound, such as ‘aaaa’, while using all kinds of different hand and arm movements. After that, 30 subjects were asked to listen to the recordings. Not only did they guess which movements were made, but, in many cases, they were also able to mimic these movements simultaneously. It is easy to measure differences in pitch and volume. It is remarkable that listeners unconsciously identify at what point movement causes these differences. "The subjects not only picked up the speed of the movement, but they also heard the location of the movement."

When people move their hands and arms while using their voices, listeners are able to hear it. Even without seeing the messenger, we can pick up each other’s body language. Wim Pouw of the Donders Institute has published this finding in PNAS this week.

[snipehuntpotatosack]

octo waltz

What I fear most is that all the cures offered by well-meaning humans for various miseries are in fact versions of delaying tactics politely referred to by some as talk therapies.

It seems upon sober reflection there really are not one but two worlds in which we may pass our time First is the one made of matter where physical things meet each other in order to cause a crime This is the one that has all of the birthing the eating the crapping the sex and the dying the Words most descriptive of process pertaining to this realm include those like running and hiding the Tangible nouns though they may reflect passing successes in projects like erecting towers are Much less important than terms that refer to the milliard modes of the destructive powers the Mauling the bawling the bashing the crashing the splitting the burning the donder und blitzen are All too well known to require any further expenditure of these dactyls for description.   The

Second world where we can live as you might expect is much preferred by all who can afford it and owes its existence to those who scratched runes in a rock burst out crying knelt down and adored it What actually occurs among these the world’s bestest and brightest can sometimes be hard to define since their Main occupation’s receiving reworking and resending cryptical signs through the air These have evolved to complexities orders of magnitude past their beginnings in rock but have Not become any more useful at fashioning keys that will pop sociopolitical locks Process as pictured in these ivory towers may simply be labeled as “re-education” The “coming to terms” with an “outstanding debt” that creates an elite based on shared “information” With strangely pre-emptive and magical features a hypnotic incense of race and of gender In thrall to which all second thoughts about what is an actual fact must now quickly surrender

But what is the point in attacking the governing class of this shining new City of Clouds, since Nothing that’s said or is done here has any impact on the fate of the main human crowd.  We can twist ourselves turn ourselves inside out winning the hearts and the minds of the people and still The Russians will do what we did in Vietnam except take twice as long and then send us the bill Murderers will maintain cheap access to guns cause it makes us more likely to give up and quit People who starve will continue to starve cause you only grow food now with crude oil, not shit And as for the Clime Zone, when I asked my RhymeZone what goes with that word so we’d finish with him, My laptop turned into an old Magic 8 Ball and said try tomorrow, but learn how to swim.

[january-glooms]

hellooooo

u already answered some of them but i have to ask again :DD

🐙👄🌷💖

patatinooooooooo hiiiiiiii how are you and your million assignments?

🐙 - what are the best kind of hugs?

the ones where someone holds me, which hasn’t happened in a long long long time. im very touch starved actually haven’t had a real hug in years

👄 - what’s something you say a lot?

so in dutch, because people hate it when i talk english to them eventho my thought process is literally in english but whatever, “broer stop je bent niet grappig” which translates to bro stop you’re not funny. there is also “ik ga stuk” which is the dutch version of lmao and “onbeskoft” or “donder op” which mean rude and go away respectively

🌷 - what compliment have you received the most?

i don’t get compliments so i wouldn’t know

💖 - how do you show affection?

helping people and making sure they are looked after and know they’re loved, also pet names and nicknames and that type of stuff is a good indicator of how much i like you

unique pink asks

[fortuitousraven]

10, 15, 18, 24, & 30 for the country asks? Also I hope you’re having a great day/night!

Thank you, I hope you’re having a great day/night too!

10. most enjoyable swear word in your native language?

“Donder”, it amuses me. The word literally just means “thunder”, so it’s also purely contextual whether or not it’s being used as a swear.

You see, when you’re too protestant to have much variety in Christian blasphemous swears, the repertoire still includes pre-Christian references to the thunder-god, lol.

15. a saying, joke, or hermetic meme that only people from your country will get?

Our humour is very focussed on irony and dry delivery, I don’t think I could present one well unfortunately XD

18. do you speak with a dialect of your native language?

Afrikaans is pretty young and doesn’t really have dialects. Although it originally started as a dialect of Dutch, and then developed into one of the most recent languages officially recognized as a new language, so that’s neat.

24. what other nation is joked about most often in your country?

I don’t think there’s one in general, South Africa contains a lot of cultures: we have 11 official languages and that’s just the official ones. Personally, I’d guess I’ve heard jokes about the English most often.

30. do you have people of different nationalities in your family? 

Not recently, everyone is South African now. Originally, mostly Dutch, with some German and French, and a smidge of Malaysian.

Country asks

[scavengerfive]

An Ornament Hung

Another year, another Abel Secret Santa fic. I went a bit overboard with this one, but I hope @when-sanpape-arts enjoys their Secret Santa gift. Sam wasn’t the best beta last time, so I got Maggie and Rajit to help me this year. Still, without any good proofreading softwares on Rofflenet, there was only so much we could do.

I would like to thank @runnerzero, @notforconsumption, and @goblinsharkz for putting all of this together and posting it on the Noticeboard (did Janine clear it?).

This takes place in some obscure limbo of my first year in Abel (OOC: though there are some mentions of future characters - though no real spoilers). Merry Christmas! Hpappy Holidays! Enjoy before my neuroticism kicks in, and I start editing every single mistake I spot.

Summary: You're not quite sure if you believe he is who he says he is, but he does have the laugh and the sleigh. Plus, his reindeer almost ran you over. He needs your help to save Christmas, but you're leaving it up to him to convince Janine because you'd rather not have latrine duty... again.

---

“Good job, Five!” Sam crowed after you exited the shop, shoving the doors shut behind you and quickly pushing over a pile of molding wooden beams to block them. “That should keep those zombs from following you. Did you get the supplies?”

You tapped the headset twice and looked down at your bag, holding it open so your head cam could see the inside, then you took off, keeping an eye out for any stray zombies that had splintered off from the horde you had just trapped. You hadn’t expected them to follow you in, but you made sure they couldn’t follow you out.

“Fantastic! Come on home then, Five,” Sam continued. “You did magnificent today. I’m sure I can convince Rajit to let you have a hot shower when you get back. Just go on right ahead and make a right when you get to the sign up the road. Head due west. You shouldn’t run into anything too big. Maybe a few shamblers, but you can stay ahead of them, right, Five?”

You tapped three times this time and beamed when he laughed.

“Cheeky, Five. Now, just ahead, you might have to--hold on, what’s this? I see something on the scanner… I can’t--wait--no… I don’t--hey, Five. Do me a favor and take the next two lefts and head towards the block of flats by the old theatre. I need your eyes--well, your head cam’s eyes--eye? Just--turn here.”

You knew Abel was the other way, but you trusted Sam and followed his directions without hesitation. It looked like something interesting caught his attention, and his curiosity demanded to be satiated, using you as its vessel. Not that you minded, and now, you were intrigued as well.

As you approached the flats, you could hear the ambient moans of zombies growing louder as you neared, and you took extra care to be quiet and stealthy in case you stumbled upon any. You crouched by a wall, sliding along it. Your nose had just about grown numb to the rancid scent on the wind, yet you had to swallow back a gag nonetheless.

There was an unfamiliar panting and grunting noise also gaining volume as you stalked towards the junction. You leaned forward to peek. The scattering of pebbles and sounds of clopping and, strangely, bells were your only warnings before a brown form barreled around the corner. You jumped back, tripped over a crack in the pavement, and fell on your bum, scrapping your palm on the rough ground.

“Five?” Sam called, sounding baffled. “Was that--was that a reindeer?”

Your head whipped around, and you caught sight of the tailend of the creature before it disappeared down the road. You tapped twice.

“Last time I checked, reindeer were not a native species in these parts. Perhaps, it escaped a zoo--or a sanctuary. Do we have any of those near here? And--am I mistaken, or did it have bells on it?”

You pushed yourself to your feet and jogged around the junction in the direction where the reindeer had come from. You could definitely hear more than a few zombies ahead.

“It should be just ahead, Five,” Sam said as you skulked. “I can see a horde of zombies surrounding a house. I think there is someone trapped on the roof. They might need help. Think you’re up for it?”

Tapping twice, you sped up, following the moans.

“Um… Five? Is that--is that a sleigh? On its side?”

Yes. Yes, it was. It was tipped over on its side, one of its runners up in the air. The red painted wood was scratched and splintering in spots, and there were reins from the front rail piled on the ground, torn or unhooked. A red sack was tumbled out of the back, deflated on the ground.

“Oh, no. Tell me you’re not about to be chased by zombie Santa and his elves, Five,” Sam whined. “That would be so not holly jolly.”

You prodded the bag with your foot. It seemed to be empty, and you contemplated picking it up when you heard a deep voice bellow over the moans of the zombies just out of sight.

“Oh, ho, ho, no! Dasher! Dancer! Prancer! Vixen! Come back here! Comet! Cupid! Donder! Blitze--where is Blitzen? Comet? Where is-- no! Back here! Chocolate fudge!”

You easily found the owner of the voice, and… Sam wasn’t too far off. A crowd of maybe fifteen zombies or so surrounded a two story house, its front door broken open. You suspected some may be inside, but the ones outside had their attention fixed upward where a familiar (in reputation) figure was on the roof. He limped along the edge of the roof, scratching his great white beard. His other hand was clutching a red hat with a white poof at the end, an accessory to the bright suit he wore over his rotund frame.

Your brain short circuited, but where you were rebooting, Sam was freaking out.

“Five! It can’t be! No! Come on!” he denied before flipping completely the other way. “Santa! It’s Santa! Five, that’s Santa! The Kris Kringle Saint Nick Santa! Surrounded by zombies! Santa is surrounded by zombies! Santa is about to be bitten by zombies and turned into a zombie! Father Christmas is about to be zombied!”

The radio operator inhaled loudly, reclaiming the air he had expelled with that breathless outpour.

“Five, you have to save him! If he dies, Christmas is over! You have to save Christmas!”

You tapped four times, and Sam quieted, letting you focus. You didn’t have time to think too hard on whatever was happening or who exactly you were seeing, but you did know how to help someone in a crisis like this. This was familiar.

You pulled out your noisemaker and turned it on before leaving your cover. Zombies were immediately attracted to the newer, more persistent noise, and you soon had a tail that you began to lead away from the house.

“Cut through those two building, Five,” Sam directed, sounding a bit calmer, falling into routine, but he still had a manic tinge to his voice. “If you hop that fence, you can lose them and circle back! Yes, that one. Oh, brilliant, Five! You went right over it. No problem. Okay, left around this house, and back to… Santa. Santa! Five!”

Four taps as you made your way back to the house, noisemaker off and back in your pocket.

“...but it’s Santa Claus, Five. Okay. Okay. I’ll calm down.”

The… man was still on the roof when you approached it. There were about two zombies still persistently moaning up at him. You unclipped your bat, and sneaking up on one, you whacked it from behind, nearly taking its whole head off. The body squelched on the ground, and you quickly dispatched the next one that turned to you. It was over in seconds.

“Oh, hello, Runner Five!”

You looked up at the greeting.

“...you know Santa, Five?”

Sam had no right sounding that betrayed, and you were just confused. How did he know who you were?

“It seems you are here to help me out of this pickle I’ve got myself in,” Santa (?) said jovially, like he wasn’t trapped on a roof. “I’m afraid I cannot get down the same way I got up. My ride seems to have suffered a--tragic accident. By the way, have you seen any reindeer? They wandered off.”

“...no. No way,” Sam exclaimed.

You just--you couldn’t--you walked around the house, locating a small shed by the back. You pushed at the door, the swollen wood resisting a bit before giving. Holding your bat at ready, you slipped in. It smelled musty rather than decaying, and you saw a few abandoned tools and supplies which you began to pack into your bag, wishing you had collected that sack (Santa’s sack?). There was a ladder like you had hoped, and you grasped it, lifting slash dragging it behind you.

“Ah, yes. That should work brilliantly,” Santa said as you reappeared, not looking the slightest bit concerned that you had abandoned him. “You are a clever one, aren’t you?”

You extended the ladder and leaned it against the side of the house, holding its side to steady it. “Santa” moved slowly, swinging a leg onto a rung and working his way down the ladder until he was on the ground again--like a normal person--not that this was the first person you’ve seen on a roof--but his roof activity had implications that didn’t just involve being trapped by the undead.

You backed up as he brushed his suit off and plopped his hat back on his head, eyeing him warily.

“Five?” Sam called quietly. “Does he really have ruddy cheeks?”

...who didn’t in this weather?

“Runner Five,” Santa said in a deep, warm voice with a great big smile. “I am so grateful you came along to help me. I must say I found myself quite puzzled on how to get myself out of that situation.”

“Does this mean you are on the Nice List?” Sam asked, then gasped. “Five, ask him if he has a Nice List? Am I on it?”

You tapped three times, and "Santa’s" gaze followed your hand as it dropped. He looked intrigued.

“Oh, is that Sam?” he asked, eyes studying the headset.

You froze while Sam squeed.

“HE KNOWS MY NAME!”

“Mr. Yao, what is going on in here?”

“Oh-um, Janine…”

“Why isn’t Five back yet with the equipment?”

“Um--you see--the thing is, Janine--that--”

You gestured at "Santa" to follow, and he started limping after you. Now that he was on ground level, you could see a wound through his torn trousers's left leg, but you couldn't see what kind. Nowadays, it was really important to know the cause. You stopped, unwilling to risk it. He looked at you expantantly, and you gestured at his leg.

"Ah, this old thing? Well, not old," "Santa" amended, both of you clearly seeing the still drying blood. "One of the runners of my sleigh caught my leg when my reindeer startled and took off without me. They're still not used to the current state of things unfortunately and can be quite skittish."

...whatever.

“Mr. Yao," Janine pushed, and you could almost hear her arms-crossed stance of pure intimidation.

“...Five just saved Santa!" Sam broke.

"...what? Mr. Yao, must I remind you that Santa Claus is not real?"

"Have you seen my sleigh by the way? Or any of my reindeer?" "Santa" asked, once again tailing you as you headed back towards where you had originally come and towards Abel. "I will be needing them if I am to fulfill my seasonal duty and get back home."

He was really committing to the role, wasn't he? Though, you had to give him points. You were almost run over by a reindeer.

"Uh-Five just sa--look for yourself!" Sam exclaimed at his wit’s end. “Five, look at him again.”

There was a rustling, and you turned your head, making sure your head cam was facing “Santa”. He waved.

“Hello, Janey,” he greeted, beaming. “It’s been a long time, hasn’t it? How is little Tommy doing? Haven’t heard from you two in a long time.”

Sam’s sounds were pitched and incoherent, but Janine’s voice, low and tight, was clear, and you suppressed a shiver.

“Bring him in, Runner Five,” she ordered. “I would like to have a chat with him.”

“Janine! You cannot interrogate Santa!”

“Oh…” Santa breathed when you led him around the junction, and he spotted his sleigh. “Oh, dear.”

He limped over to it, and you followed after him, keeping an eye out for any of the zombies you had led astray earlier. Sam was supposed to be your eyes in the sky, your guy in the chair, but he clearly was trying to wrap his mind around this situation. You understood Janine’s wariness because you were too. How did this stranger not only know who was on the other side of the link but also all of their names?

“Who’s Tom?” Sam asked.

“No one. Forget you ever heard that name. Get Runner Five home.”

“...and she is gone,” Sam said after a pause. “An open book, isn’t she, Five?”

“Santa” caressed the side of the sleigh, his gloves catching on the splinters, and he pulled back. For the first time since you’d encountered him, he looked somber. You watched him walk around it then slowly crouch to examine the reins. He grasped a torn end, frowning. Abruptly, he dropped it and stood, brushing off his gloves and smiling at you.

“I suppose I must go with you to Abel,” he said, bending over to pick up the red sack by the sleigh and throw it over his shoulder. “It was one of my stops. I think I’m going to need your runners’ help.”

Sam inhaled, and you buckled in for his next outburst.

---

Despite his bum leg, “Santa” managed to keep up with you (after you slowed down a bit). As Sam yelled, “Raise the gates!”, you and “Santa” passed under a hail of bullets and through the outer gate. As the siren blared and quieted, a guard stepped forward to do your bite checks, eyeing “Santa” with bewilderment.

“Hello, George,” “Santa” said with a warm smile. “Is Lizzie doing well?”

George stopped in the middle of your examination and stared wide-eyed at the “Santa”. So did you.

“How-how-do I know you?” George sputtered, half between reaching for his weapon, but he looked more confused than hostile.

“Not as well as you used to, but Lizzie did mention that she was worried about you since her mum got hurt.”

“How--when have you spoken to my daughter?”

You caught George before he could get too close to “Santa”, and another guard steped forward to guide him back.

“Thank you, John,” “...Santa?” said offhandedly, looking at George. “I haven’t had the pleasure of talking with the young lady, but she still wrote a letter this year despite the apocalypse.”

“You expect me to believe you’re actually Santa Claus?”

As usual, some people were drawn by the gate sirens, curious to see who was out of the township and what they brought back, but instead of wandering off, they stopped to stare, calling over other people until a small muttering crowd was beginning to form. It’s not everyday that Santa comes to town.

“I don’t expect belief from anyone,” “Santa?” said, unmoved by the tension. “I am who I am. Hello, Sam!”

You turned to see the radio operator squeezing his way through the crowd, his headset hanging off center around his neck. He forced himself through, stumbling forward as he pulled himself free. Stopping, he stared, eyes wide.

“...Santa?” Sam called out tentatively, clutching his hoodie.

“It’s good to see you, Sam,” “Santa (...what?)” said kindly. “I’m sorry to hear about your engineering degree, but I’m glad you’re putting your interests to use to help your friends.”

Sam lit up and rushed forward.

“I--it’s nothing really,” he said, suddenly bashful. “I just talk people’s ears off and hopefully get them out of trouble.”

“Sam, don’t tell me you believe him,” George said incredulously, still glaring at “...Santa”.

“I mean--look at him,” Sam said, gesturing at “Santa (...?)”. “And Five found his sleigh and almost got ran over by a reindeer. Tell them, Five!”

You flashed a thumbs up when the guards looked for confirmation.

“He was probably a mall Santa,” George countered.

“Or just crazy,” John added quietly, speaking up for the first time.

“Mr. Jones and Mr. Monroe, did you finish conducting the routine bite checks?” Janine’s stern voice cut through.

The two men startled to see Janine who had somehow managed to sneak up on all of them. “Santa (...)” smiled cheerfully at her.

“No, ma’am,” George mumbled.

“Get to it then.”

John dealt with “Santa (... …)” while George finished up your examination, all the while Janine watched with Sam buzzing next to her.

“Mr…?” Janine prompted as you both were cleared, and you handed over your bag to have the supplies emptied and sorted.

“Claus,” “Santa (...?)” supplied. “Or Kringle if you’d rather. I do prefer Kris.”

You could roll with that. Kris was shameless in the face of Janine’s disapproval, but it’s not like she could make him say otherwise.

“Mr. Kringle,” Janine said, her face twitching, but she maintained her cool demeanor. “I would like to have a private word with you.”

“I usually wouldn’t deny your request,” Kris started, “but I must say I have an urgent matter that I would like to discuss that I do not believe we would have time to get to if I allow you to question me.”

“And what is that?”

“I am incapable of completing my route without my sleigh and my reindeers, and I believe I need the help of your runners to complete my task.”

“You must be joking. Are you suggesting--?”

“Janey--um, Ms. de Luca,” Kris interrupted, correcting upon receiving Janine’s death glare. “I would not joke about such a matter. It is my job to maintain hope in this season, and with the world in such a state, it is ever more critical that Christmas--”

“Mr. Kringle! I do not have tim--”

“Must I prove it then?” Kris said, his gaze sharp.

Janine opened her mouth then closed it after a moment of deliberation. Folding her arms, she shifted her weight onto one leg, hip jutting, and gestured at him to continue. The small crowd had grown larger and nearer, eager to see the outcome of this. You could see Jody pushing her way to the front with Simon just behind.

“I usually depend on the unconditional belief of children and the few older True Believers,” Kris said, glancing at Sam for a moment who saw the look and gasped. “But if I must make you believe to gain your help, so be it. Runner Five, please take this.”

You grasped the sack he handed you. It was light and, looking in, appeared to be empty. Kris rubbed his hands together then reached into the bag, pulling out a wrapped box that was definitely not in there before. Your jaw dropped.

Peering at the name on the little card, Kris called, “Molly Harrison.”

There was a pause before you heard Ed shout out, “No, Molly! Come back!”

The little girl appeared, pushing through the legs of the larger folks around her. Her cheeks were rosy from the cold under her wide eyes that stared up at Kris. She toddled forward, clutching Mr. Rabbit in her arms, just as her father caught up, swinging her up in his arms despite her squirming to get away.

“Ed,” Kris greeted, stepping closer carefully and holding out the box. “I’m sorry about Becca.”

Ed scowled but took the gift, looking around at everyone watching him.

“And what’s this then?”

“Something for Molly and Mr. Rabbit.”

Ed did a double take, scrutinizing Kris before putting his daughter down. When he was sure she wasn’t going to run off, her mood shifting towards bashful as she clutched her father’s trousers, hiding behind them, he unwrapped the box. He pulled out a knitted hat, turning it over before freezing.

“Where did you get this?” Ed breathed tightly.

Sam perked up like you while Janine shifted subtly forward to see what was off. It was a knitted blue cap Molly’s size with a white “M” woven into it.

“She started it early,” Kris said gently. “She needed to keep her hands busy, but she didn’t get to finish Mr. Rabbit’s, so I did the honors.”

“Mr. Harrison,” Janine prompted after Ed stared at Kris for so long.

“Um--it’s Becca’s work,” he said, having to clear his throat a few times. “She made me one just like this a few years ago, with an “E”, you know--for um Ed... and she said she wanted to make one for Molly because it would get cold, and she didn’t want the cold to get Molly anymore than dem zombs.”

He swallowed, looking down at Molly who was toying with his trousers, obliviously gnawing on her stuffed rabbit’s ear. He turned the hat inside out and pointed at the thread.

“Here. You see this knot,” Ed said. “Even though you’re not really supposed to, she always knots the end three times after she weaves the finishing stitch back in just to make sure it won’t come loose… I know this is her work, but I haven’t seen it before.”

The box was tilted enough in his slack grip to show a smaller matching hat with an embroidered “R”.

“Five,” Kris called, keeping a gentle eye on Ed, and you stepped forward. “I usually don’t have gifts for adults, barring a few, but I thought this year needed to be extra special.”

Kris reached into the definitely empty sack and pulled out a smaller box (f-ck that), handing it to Ed who took it after staring at it for a few seconds. He didn’t hesitate to open this one, and he revealed a few compact disc cases, newer looking than anything you’ve seen in a while. You could see race cars on the cover.

“How…” Ed trailed off, and he looked at Kris with a look of growing awe and disbelief. “You can’t be.”

Kris grinned, tapping his nose. A slow smile crossed Ed’s face before he let out an abrupt laugh, shaking his head. You ignored Sam repeatedly slapping your arm, incoherently squealing under his breath.

“I think I’m going crazy,” Ed muttered then added a quiet, “Thank you,” with a small but sincere smile.

“Take care of this special girl,” Kris said.

Kris waved at Molly who waved back shyly, babbling and giggling. Ed packed all the gifts back into the larger box and picked up Molly, balancing everything and stepping back, still staring at Kris.

“A--an intriguing display, Mr. Kringle,” Janine said slowly. “However, I do not bel--”

“Not done yet, dear,” Kris interjected (casually missing her glare this time), reaching in the sack that you helpfully held up, curious to see where this was going.

“What he get you, mate?” you could hear Simon questioning Ed.

“Driving games. I… I told Jack and Eugene I wanted a few,” Ed muttered, pulling the knitted hat on over Molly’s head then one on Mr. Rabbit, much to the tot’s excitement.

“George, for you and Lizzie,” Kris said, tossing the gifts to the hovering guard then reaching in for more.

He started calling out names, and each person came forward, at first with caution and exchanged glances. But as gifts were unwrapped with shocked gasps or excited exclaims, there was less hesitation each time, an eager energy taking over the gathering. Rajit started crying when he unwrapped a professionally printed version of his novel. George stood stunned, clutching the doll Lizzie had been asking for and the old board game they used to play as a family on game nights.

“Okay, okay! Everyone calm down!” Janine yelled, dampening the growing cacophony. “Please move along.”

There were protests, but eventually everyone but the runners and Sam left (though people hovered nearby). Sam had his hood pulled tight over his head, vibrating in place. Janine turned to Kris who was waiting with a satisfied expression. She pinched her nose before looking heavenward.

“I--I cannot believe I am saying this, but um,” Janine managed before sighing. “...what do you need us to do, Mr. Kringle?”

Sam whooped.

---

“All right, Runners! Are you ready to save Christmas?” Sam said through your headset an hour later, his voice giddy.

No one had managed to calm him down since Kris asked if he could sit with him in the comms shack, his leg making him unable to help with the physical journey. You readjusted the red sack you had tossed over your shoulder, identical ones in the hands of the other runners. Kris had pulled more out of his original “dimensionally transcendental or perhaps it contains a transversable Einstein-Rosen wormhole--how do you keep it from collapsing without an infinite source of exotic matter--the implications it has on the modified theory of general relativity blah blah blah” (according to Chris who you ended up tuning out) “Magic Sack of Wonders” (according to Sam).

“Let’s get this show on the road,” Simon said through the comms link.

“Ready, Sam,” confirmed Jody.

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” Sara sighed, done with everything before it even started.

A cherry “Ready!” from Maggie, “Let’s get this done” from Evan, confusing muttering from Chris’s side of the link, and affirmations from the rest of the runners. You tapped twice, and the siren blared at Sam’s direction.

“Raise the gates!”

---

“So, what’s the plan, Sam?” Sara said minutes later after you and she split up from the other runners who had other settlements as their destinations. “One that won’t have New Canton shooting us down where we stand. Five and I are not exactly on their Nice List. Not after the stunts we pulled.”

Jody and Simon were heading to Brunswick, Maggie and Chris to Red Settlement, Fiona and Charlie to New Skoobs, and Evan and Bonnie were making the long journey to Mullins, planning on taking one of the motorbikes Ed had told them about for part of the journey.

“Um--you each have those tree ornaments S-Santa gave you?” Sam said, voice cracking.

“If you die from overexcitement on us...” Simon jokingly threatened through your headset.

The radio operator giggled manically then cleared his throat, quietly coaching himself to some level of calm under his breath.

“We’ve got them, Sam,” Jody responded.

“Good. Good. So, they, um--they’re magical ornaments, and they uh make people trust you more--am I getting that right, Santa?”

“Magic’s not real,” Chris muttered. “If anything, it would be complex scientific phenomena that we cannot yet explain. If I could ju--”

“Maybe later, Chr--uh Ten. Okay?” Maggie soothed, diverting him from another ramble.

The relief was shared and audible among you all, more than one sigh coming through the link.

“Call me Kris please, Sam,” Kris said before speaking to you all, casually over the wheeze of the radio operator. “They each contain a remnant of what some would call the Spirit of Christmas… or of the Holidays. When you turn them on, they should remind everyone in your vicinity of the holiday season, what it smells like, tastes like, sounds like to them.”

“You can’t be--”

“It’s okay, Chris. You can debate Santa later.”

“People tend to be calmer and more welcoming in response,” Kris continued, ignoring the interruptions. “Just don’t turn them on too soon, or you may find yourself too relaxed to react to threats in your environment, say… the zombies approaching Runner Seven’s projected route from the east. Sam?”

“Right, Sa-Kris,” Sam said, taking a breath before continuing. “Runner Seven, I need you to speed up. You should be able to pass ahead before they intersect you.”

“Got it, Sam,” Evan said. “Come on, girl. Let’s outrun some zombies.”

You heard Bonnie bark once excitedly, and the Head of Runners chuckled. You and Sara were making good time, and you figured you could be there and back before the sun set too much--assuming New Canton actually cooperated and didn’t--you know--mow you down with prejudice. Kris was humming under his breath, and you snickered when you recognized “Run, Rudolph, Run”.

“So… Kris,” Sam said after a few minutes, trying and failing to sound casual. Kris hemmed, and Sam continued, “Do you read all the letters sent to you every year?”

“As many as I can. I get quite a lot,” Kris said. “When I’m working, sometimes, I’ll have an elf read them outloud to me.”

“Really?”

Kris chuckled.

“Nah… I mean, not anymore. It’s not the Dark Ages--the original one anyways. I have an audio program on my computer that can read them to me.”

“Wow… Five, Eight, turn left up ahead. You’re almost to New Canton.”

“Can see it up on the hill,” Sara responded. “Ready on your mark.”

“Good. Wait until you are spotted.”

“Received.”

The old castle grew larger on the horizon, and you and Sara took a less direct route, hoping to get closer, so they could be in vocal range and not just rifle range.

“I’ve seen your letter on Rofflenet,” Kris said.

Sam choked, coughing. You tapped the headset once paused then twice.

“I’m fine, Five,” he assured, voice rough. “What do you mean? I didn’t--I haven’t written a letter in years--I mean--”

“Sam, I have received a letter from you every year since you’ve learned to write, and I’ve read every single one of them,” Kris said gently. “There’s nothing to be ashamed of. There is nothing wrong with being a True Believer. It’s actually remarkable you’ve managed to hold onto your belief in the magic and joy of Christmas all these years.”

“My mum--she would help me write them when I was a kid,” Sam admitted. “And when I was older, she would ask me if I wrote mine yet. I thought I was too old to be writing to Santa, but she said you’d be sad if I stopped. I guess--I just…”

“I’m sorry about your parents, Sam, but I’m certain they’d be proud of you if they were here.”

There was a sharp, wet inhale before the line was cut from the comms shack. You looked at Sara, but she had her eyes forward, scanning the castle looming before you. You could just make out figures on the high walls when an intercom came to life.

“Runners from Abel Township! Stop where you are, or we will shoot to kill!” a soldier’s voice boomed over your heads. “You have some nerve coming this way again!”

“Five,” Sara called, pulling out her ornament and clutching it tightly. “Time to--oh, G-d. I can’t believe I’m about to say this.” She breathed. “Time to turn on our magical ornaments.”

You grinned at the pain in her voice, pulling your ornament until the halves separated. Turning them in opposite directions, you pushed them back together with a click. There was a pause. You held your breath.

The ornament began to light up, and you could hear the crackling of firewood and heady taste of cinnamon and apples coated your tongue. Your mouth started watering, chest panging as you took a deep breath filled with the strong scent of roasted pine cones.

“Do not make me repeat my--what…” the voice faltered. “What is…? Do you smell cookies, Tim? It’s… double chocolate chip and fudge. Just like my Nan’s… I--I haven’t smelled…”

The intercom died, and you could see figures converging before a few split off and disappeared below. The longer you stood there, the warmer your fingers felt, like when you would stretch them out over the flames. You heard a quiet sniff, but Sara was already turning away, a hand subtly brushing over her face. You looked forward again.

The intercom came on again.

“Abel Runners! Approach with your hands in the air! Guards will meet you at the gate! You better have a good reason for being here!”

“--aven’t heard this song since my pa--” another voice said in the background.

The intercom cut off, and you and Sara looked at each other before holding up your hands and walking forward.

---

It went--as well as one could expect. You endured the jeers from the guards that gave way to shock then confusion and elation as you did what had worked at Abel. When you reached into your “empty” bag, rifles aimed at you, you always found your fingers brushing one box more with the name of an individual present. When you handed it over to the suspicious recipient, you got to watch the skepticism melt away as their eyes widened, unbidden smiles breaking through.

Each reaction caused your smile to grow larger, a warm feeling filling you as eyes lit up. You were starting to get really into this, and you could even see Sara bantering with the guards and joining in with the teasing when guards got gifts that, though it was something they wanted, was a bit embarrassing to open up around their fellow colleagues.

“Do you have a central area where we can leave these, Robbie?” Sara asked the guard from the intercom who had a great sense of humor that didn’t come across when he was threatening to shoot… figures. “At this rate, we’ll be here all week.”

“This way,” Robbie said, a small smirk on his face as he dramatically bowed and gestured for you to proceed with him. “The mess hall should work. We just set up a tree some of our runners cut down. The kids are decorating it.”

People stepped aside as you passed by, watching with wariness or confusion as the guards around you joked and regaled you and Sara with some runner shenanigans or New Canton events. When someone drifted into your vicinity, they would pause, faces scrunching up as the magic of the ornaments enveloped them. Some would laugh, beam, look around wildly, or start to tear up. You gained a few followers, New Canton residents just as curious as Abel’s.

By the time you reached the mess hall, the crowd behind you was large. They spread out, filling up the room slowly as you and Sara headed towards the sizable tree surrounded by children who were attaching handmade decorations with the help of adults. You could see popcorn chains, paper ornaments, cotton, and more. It was haphazard but beautiful nonetheless.

The children looked up and backed away as they stared at all the people entering. Their minders pulled them closer when they recognized your Abel gear. You and Sara stood there in front of the tree, trying to decide your plan, ignoring the people muttering behind you. You kneeled down and started laying out gifts one by one, occasionally handing one to a curious child who had wandered over to see what you were doing, the gift always belonging to the person nearest you. However, you recognized a problem quickly, and so did Sara. She stepped back and turned on her transmitter.

“Sam, Kris,” she called. “We cannot pull these out one by one.”

“Turn your bags upside down,” Kris instructed. “Carefully.”

When both you and Sara did so, gifts came tumbling out. The voices around you got louder, people shouting and moving closer with each materialized box. You walked backwards, following the perimeter of the room, children rushing after you to pick up boxes and pile them closer to the tree. That allowed you to loop back.

Soon enough, large piles surrounded the tree even as people passed boxes around. Children were running around with their new toys and clothes, tugging at their parents’ sleeves. People gushed over their hammers, new boots, playing cards, and packets of hot cocoa. You saw more than one person crying over their half opened box, being consoled by someone else, but there was always a watery smile on their face. Laughter filled the room, the grim faces easing under more than the thrall of your ornament which was only a remnant of the Spirit of the Holidays, paling in comparison to the full joy and cheer that went beyond this room, spreading through the settlement.

You had more than one set of small arms wrap around your legs, and without malice or distrust, people greeted, thanked, and joked with you, handing you a cup of hot cider you sipped at carefully when you paused for a break.

You saw Sara examining a new knife a New Canton runner received, showing the younger woman a few moves. Robbie and Tim watched, their rifles abandoned on their backs as they asked questions or threw in some pointers. Someone had started singing some carols, and more and more people joined in, laughing over mis-sang or forgotten lyrics.

Even so, you knew there were more people than gifts you poured out. You tapped on Sara’s shoulder and held up your sack before miming it towards the people around you.

“Five wants to know if they can leave their sack with someone in New Canton,” Sara relayed. “I suspect there are more gifts to give.”

“The magic of the bags and ornaments end at midnight on Christmas night,” Kris said. “No harm leaving it behind.”

You flagged down a runner who had 20 on her armband.

“Hello. Hi. What’s this?” she said as you handed her sack. “Oh, you’re giving me your magic bag of endless presents. How exciting. I am curious to see how this works. It looks very empty, but I watched you pulling out box after box. Let’s see if I can do it too.”

She reached in, face lighting up as she felt something, and she pulled out a box. She squinted at it, turning it around in her hands until she found the card tucked under the bow.

“And it has my name on it! Archie Jensen. That’s brilliant. Can’t wait to see what’s in it. I wished for a lot of things.”

She tried to hand the sack back, but you held up your hands, shaking your head.

“What? You don’t want it back now?”

You shook your head again, and she frowned before realization dawned on her face.

“You have to go now, don’t you?” Archie asked, and she looked sad when you nodded. “Shame. Well… don’t get bitten or blown up or shot or who knows what else. I hope to see you again, Runner Five. Hopefully we won’t be trying to kill each other because our leaders are fighting again--like we aren’t all just trying to survive. Living killing the living while we have dead trying too.”

You held out a hand, but she pushed past it to hug you tight enough that you were certain your ribs shifted a bit.

“Bye, Five. Bye, Sara,” she said, clutching her box and the bag to her chest, beaming.

It was a while before you could really leave as people wanted to personally wish you well and happy holidays. Before you and Sara made your way out, you attached your frosted ornament to their tree and admired its soft glow.

“Let’s go, Five,” Sara said, Robbie waiting by her side.

You nodded, looking back once more before running towards them.

---

You and Sara turned your backs on New Canton, looking out at the setting sun.

“We should be able to make it back before dark if we’re quick, Five,” Sara assured. “We’re heading back out now, Sam.”

“All right. Head home, runners. You did great work today,” Sam said proudly. “Even zombies can’t stop Christmas.”

“Ho, ho, ho,” Kris chimed in. “Well said, Sam.”

Sara’s sack was also gone, but she still clutched her ornament for comfort or assurance--who knew. Your fingers still felt comfortably warm, and you could always catch a faint wisp of fresh pudding.

“Me and Four are finishing up here,” Simon reported, shouting over the sound of children laughing and people singing in his background. “We’ll leave once Jody digs herself out from under a pile of imps.”

The squeals pitched before he cut his transmission. Evan reported that he was nearing Mullins Base and would be staying overnight while Maggie and Chris were still at Red Settlement. Charlie and Fiona had just reached New Skoobs themselves, and they said they were probably staying there as well.

“So, Santa,” Simon spoke up when you and Sara were halfway back to Abel. “Got any presents waiting for us back at Abel? Us Runners must be on the top of your Nice List.”

“You, Simon Lauchlan, have been on my Naughty List since the day you released three pigs in your school when you were fifteen,” Kris said drily.

The comms link was flooded with laughter and jeers.

“Yeah, yeah,” Simon said, a smirk clear in his voice. “The ladies find it nice when I’m a little naughty.”

Your groan wasn’t alone. Charlie even booed.

“Did you really release pigs in your school, Three?” Sam asked.

“Yeah. It was a prank me and my mates pulled. We painted three pigs with 1, 2, and 4 and let them loose. It took them all day to catch them, but they spent a week looking for a fourth pig. It was worth getting my ears boxed by my mum when we got caught. Best prank I ever pulled. Still proud of it.”

“Of course you are,” Jody said, sounding out of breath.

There was a child screaming right by her microphone, causing you to wince.

“You alright there, Four?” Sam asked.

“Just finishing things up,” she said. “Be on our way back now, Sam.”

“Good. Goo--”

“Sam. Will you take a look at this?” Kris interjected.

“Let me see… oh. Uh oh. That’s--that’s not--Five, Eight. I don’t mean to alarm you, but well… about twenty zombies are converging on your location. I don’t understand--they’re coming from different directions. What is attracting them?”

You smiled at Sara, certain that Sam will figure it all out because he was really smart. Sara had a serene expression, and she winked at you. You giggled.

“...are you laughing, Five? Your laugh is lovely, but this is not the time to laugh. More are approaching. You and Eight need to speed up.”

You covered your mouth, but more chuckles escaped. Still, you did pick up the pace with Sara matching you. You could hear the whistling groans growing closer, but you focused on your warm fingers and roasted pine cones and warm pudding.

“They’re surrounding you two! There’s almost forty now,” Sam sounded more stressed than you thought was warranted. “What is happening?! Okay, okay. No need to panic. Five, Eight, you have a small window. Keep going the direction you’re heading, but you have to pick up the pace, or else they’ll cut you off.”

“Don’t worry, Sam,” Sara said warmly. “Five and I will be fine.”

You saw the zombies shambling out from behind buildings and trees, coming from all directions. There were a few in front of you, but you gave them a wide berth. The sound of their moans was thunderous.

“I would have to disagree… why do you sound so calm?” Sam asked as you ducked under a zombie’s arm.

“Sara, Five,” Kris called. “Did you turn off your ornaments?”

“Five left theirs at New Canton, but I still have mine. I didn’t want to risk those guards shooting us in the back, so I kept it on. Plus… it smells like sweet potato pie. It was my boys’ favorite.”

You wiggled your warm fingers.

“Do you think that’s what’s attracting the zombs, and why Eight and Five aren’t taking this seriously?” Sam asked.

“It’s definitely what’s keeping them so calm--too calm,” Kris said, “but I wasn’t aware of it having any effect on the undead.”

“Umm… I have a theory,” Chris piped up over the link. “You said the ornaments trigger sensory cues that people associate with festivity and the holidays. Could it be possible that they can tap into residual brain activity? Though the brains have mostly decayed, the zombies may still be drawn towards the source of the stimuli.”

“It’s… possible,” Kris granted. “Never had the chance to test it. It sounds reasonable.”

“Eight, turn off your ornament,” Sam ordered.

Sara hesitated but did so, and your fingers cooled, the scent of pudding giving way to rotting flesh. You jumped back as a zombie swung at you. You managed to stay on your feet and skirt around it.

“Sam!” Sara yelled. “We need an out. Now!”

“Just run!”

You could practically feel fingers brushing your back, and you swang your bat at a zombie reaching for you as Sara impaled one through the eye with her knife, a squelch following a wet smack.

“Ooh…” Sam cringed before crowing, “That’s what I call teamwork! Keep going though. You can’t fight them all.”

“Five?” Sara called. “Do you hear that?”

Through the moans and groans, you heard familiar bells and clopping. A great pair of antlers butted a zombie to the side, the reindeer shaking its head with a grunt. It scrapped its hoof on the ground, looking at you and Sara as you ran by it. You weaved and jumped through zombies, seeing your narrow path of escape closing by the second. You heard another squelch, and you had to behead your own zomb soon after.

“Hear what?” Sam asked anxiously.

“Just a bl--dy reindeer, Sam,” Sara panted, a painful sounding cough working its way out.

“Five, whistle at it,” Kris commanded. “Loud and clear.”

You did so, and you heard hooves clattering over pavement behind you. You glanced back to see the reindeer charging towards you, mowing down any zombies in its path. You suddenly heard more bells and hooves approaching, and a second reindeer then a third appeared, rounding the corner and running straight towards you and Sara.

“Five,” Kris started, but you already had a hand out as the antlers came up beside you. “Grab on.”

You did and swang yourself up on the reindeer’s back, grabbing at the torn reins from which hung the golden bells that rang so sharply amongst the moans. You wrapped your hands in them, bending low and bracing your legs, feeling the creature’s solid muscles moving under your thighs.

“You must be joking,” Sara coughed, but she ran towards one of the other reindeer despite her protests.

“Come on, Eight. How many people get to say they rode Santa’s reindeer?”

She didn’t bother dignifying that with a response and managed to clamber up on her chosen mount. Your reindeer lowered its head and whipped a zombie out of its way. You cheered, giggling wildly. Moving faster than you ever could on your feet, the reindeer carrying you and Sara burst free just before the zombies closed in, and you left them in your dust, their moans fading in the distance as the sun set.

---

By the time you saw Abel, the sun was nearly gone, and you had collected six more reindeer and four more runners. All of the reindeer ran behind you in pairs with you on the one leading in the front. Simon finally stopped clutching at his reindeer like it was going to throw him while Jody rode like a natural. Maggie looked less shaky and was keeping an eye on Chris who looked green around the edges.

You patted the head of the reindeer you rode. Though it was panting, your reindeer kept going, quick as a comet which you realized was its name from the loose tag on the back of its neck. Good boy.

“That’s what I call riding in style, run--no, riders,” Sam said. “Raise the gates! First wave of Santa’s elves are back for the night.”

The reindeer balked but did not flee from the sirens, and you coaxed them though the gates, swinging down once Comet settled. You stroked his head, grinning. You felt very sore from riding bareback, but it was better than being eaten, so you couldn’t complain. You saw Maggie helping Chris down, steadying the runner as he swayed, rubbing his back soothingly.

“You did good work, runners,” Kris said. “Sleep easy knowing you brought much joy in a time that very much needed it.”

“I don’t know about you guys, but I’m knackered,” Sam yawned.

You groaned as the others jeered. The late shift guards approached, eyeing the reindeer cautiously. You submitted yourself to your bite check.

“Being an operator is hard work too,” Sam protested, his grin audible. “Sleep well, runners. You did great.”

“Thanks, Sam,” Jody said as he signed off.

“What do you think they’re going to do with the big guy?” Simon asked.

“Hey, Five,” Sara called, stealing your attention as she tossed you her ornament. “Give this back to Kris or hang it on the tree for me. I don’t care. I’m gonna check in with Janine.”

You nodded, eyeing the ornament as she left, but besides its one unfortunate side effect, it was still pretty neat (and magic).

“What do we do with the reindeer?” one of the guards, Joe, asked quietly, but you were already walking away, your feet dragging.

You vaguely remember turning on and hooking the ornament on the tree in Abel’s square, your fingers warming and smelling pudding and pine cones, before you fell face first into your cot and passed out.

---

Abel was a different place when you woke up Christmas morning. The first sign was the candy cane hanging outside of your room when you stepped out in your gloves and scarf. Curious, you pulled it down, and you looked, seeing more hanging on the doors of other runners. Shrugging, you stuffed it in your pocket.

You exited the runners’ quarters and stilled, eyes widening. Paper snowflakes hung from fairy lights and tinsel that were wrapped around the comms shack nearby. You realized that it wasn’t the only building that was decorated while you slept. So were the runners’ quarters and all the buildings you could see as well. Soft holiday music drifted in the air, emitting from the intercoms.

As you wandered towards the square, you could hear activity, the sound of shrieking, laughter, and talking growing louder. You saw people admiring the tree, and you could see why. First off, it was not that tall or green last night, and it was gorgeously decorated with tinsel, lights, popcorn, and ornaments, some handmade and others well crafted. There were also some gifts piled under it, but not as many as you would expect for how many people resided in Abel.

Yet, people buzzed with excitement, the situation becoming clearer as you drifted through towards the kitchen.

“--found it right outside my room. I haven’t seen a complete deck since the outbreak. They were worth an arm and a leg before.”

“They’re so warm, and they are just my size too!”

“It will make my job so much easier. My old one was growing really dull, and it j--”

“Runner Five!”

You turned to see Jack jogging towards you, Eugene trailing behind him with his crutches.

“Glad we caught you,” Jack said, beaming. “We heard you had a real adventure yesterday, and we thought perhaps you might want to talk about it.”

“Hello, Five,” Eugene greeted much calmer, eyeing his partner with fond exasperation. “Sleep well?”

You nodded, grinning as Jack rolled his eyes at this clear waste of time.

“Me and Gene want to interview you. Nothing like a grand tale of zombie grinches and Christmas miracles to bring hope to the people,” Jack continued. “Just let u…”

You didn’t have time to wonder why the radio host trailed off, eyes widening, when you felt a puff of air brush your neck. Wet lips nibbled at your hair, and you turned. Comet grunted at you, nosing your clothes. You stood still, unsure what to do.

“He’s looking for sugar,” Kris said, coming up behind his reindeer and stroking Comet’s side fondly. “You don’t happen to have a sugar cube or candy on you, do you?”

You frowned before perking up, reaching in your pocket and pulling out the candy cane. Comet reached for it, but you held it back, looking at Kris.

“He can have one,” Kris said. “More than that, and he’ll upset his stomach--again.”

The reindeer grunted. You unwrapped the cane and held it out, smiling as Comet gobbled it up, petting his neck.

“I wish I had a camera,” Eugene muttered behind you.

There was a flash, and you blinked your eyes clear to see Charlie grinning.

“Guess who got a camera for Christmas!”

“Ooh! Take a picture of me and Genie,” Jack crowed.

He posed with Eugene who shifted his crutches to the side to wrap his arm around Jack’s waist, smiling. Charlie took multiple pictures, and before the last one, Eugene pressed a kiss to Jack’s cheek, setting the other man’s face ablaze in time for the flash.

“Eugene!”

Eugene swung his way to peer over Charlie’s shoulder as she shook out the little pictures the camera emitted. He cackled as he got a good look at the developing photo, Charlie laughing with him.

“I’ll be keeping that,” Eugene said, taking the photo with a grin when it was done. “Get a tan, Jack. You go from ghost to tomato in seconds.”

The reindeer butted you, checking you for more treats, but you just stroked Comet’s head, nosing him back.

“He’s taken a liking to you,” Kris commented. “He’s usually much more temperamental.”

You wiggled your nose at Comet who snorted in your face, his breath warm and rank. You gagged, and Kris chuckled deeply. You looked at him, taking the time to study him and his new appearance. He had changed into overalls and flannel, looking at ease despite the cold weather. He saw you looking.

“I didn’t bring a spare suit,” Kris protested, and you held up your hands in surrender, grinning as he laughed more. “The good doctor took care of my leg as well. Now, will you show me the way to the kitchen? I’m feeling peckish.”

Your stomach growled on cue, and you nodded, weaving your way through the people, many of which moved aside, watching the mythical man trialing after you with a reindeer. You ignored it, listening as Kris told you a little bit about his travels before the apocalypse.

“I was always fond of Egypt. Their kahks are delicious.”

“Five! Over her--Oh, Kris! Hi!”

Kris chuckled as Sam waved wildly, beaming out from under the great red hat that was perched on his head, slipping over his brow. Maxine had to push it back up before it fell off his face, and he shot her a grateful smile.

“He deserved it,” Kris explained at your glance. “Santa’s True Believer. He doesn’t know it yet, but that hat will bring him much fortune if he manages to hold onto it.”

Simon, Jody, Maggie, and Chris were at the table as well, and you saw Fiona at another. She and Charlie must have gotten in earlier.

Chris didn’t even look up from the red sack he was examining in his lap, but Maggie smiled from beside him, waving and moving over to let Kris in after you approached with your trays, and you squeezed in next to Sam, brushing shoulders with him. Comet lingered by the table, people skirting around him though they watched him with curiosity.

You tapped your nose three times, pointing at the hat, and Sam stuck out his tongue.

“I think I rock it, right, Maxine?”

“It’s definitely--something,” Maxine dodged, smiling at you. “Morning, Five. How are you feeling?”

You see-sawed your hand, and she hummed sympathetically, her head bobbing.

“If you need anything, come see me later.”

You nodded, rubbing your sore legs.

“Coming to the party later?” Simon asked.

“Janine cleared it?” Jody asked with a frown.

“Nope,” he snorted. “Coming?”

“I’ll probably stop by.”

“That’s the one Jack and Eugene were planning, right?” Sam asked, stealing a banger off your tray, smiling innocently with it shoved in his mouth.

Disgusting.

“Yup. They said they’ve got the good booze,” Simon tempted.

“Whiskey, and I’m in,” Maggie said.

“I’m sure I could scour up some, Maggie,” Kris said with a mischievous smile.

She quirked a brow, and when he grinned, she laughed.

“Good luck getting your sack back from Chris. I just barely managed to stop him from unravelling it.”

“It doesn’t make sense,” Chris mumbled to himself, running his fingers over it.

“It’s all right, Chris,” Maggie said, patting his shoulder. “It’s magic.”

“It’s advanced technology.”

“Okay.”

“Sam Yao, please report to the comms shack,” Janine said over the intercom, drawing people’s attention as it briefly interrupted the ambient music.

Sam sighed but pushed himself up.

“I have to get Evan back to Abel. I’ll see you at the party later, right, Five?”

You nodded, and he grinned, taking his empty tray with him. You fed Comet some boiled carrots and beans, his lips running over your palm for every scrap.

“I have to go too,” Maxine announced. “I want to organize my supplies before tonight. I plan on getting completely wasted. Don’t get any fatal injuries between today and tomorrow because I won’t be any help.”

You snickered.

“What did you get, Five?” Jody asked once Maxine left. “I got new knitting needles and some really good yarn.”

Your brows furrowed, wondering if you had perhaps overlooked your own box.

“Oh, I have not yet given Five their gift, Jody,” Kris said, smiling at you. “I wanted to deliver it personally since they did save my life yesterday.”

“Bet it won’t top my new football,” Simon challenged before you could respond.

You bared a sharp smile at Simon as Jody elbowed him. He protested, rubbing his arm, overacting the severity of the pain.

“I made an exception this year, Simon, but you are still on my Naughty List. Remember that.”

“Wouldn’t want to be anywhere else, Santa.”

---

At the party later that Janine totally did not know about (she was in the corner sharing a drink with Sara who was holding a plate of sweet potato pie), you sat comfortably in the rec building with the quickly knitted elf hat that Jody threw at you (before she started on another, having already completed one for Simon, Maggie, and Chris) on your head.

Sam was coming back over from the buffet table, balancing cups filled to the brim with various drinks. He still wore his Santa hat with pride despite how much ribbing he was subjected to. Maxine gratefully accepted her cup, following through with her plan to get utterly sloshed tonight.

“Runner Five. If I may steal you for a moment.”

You looked up at Kris, who waved away another child, and stood, following him to a corner, avoiding Jack and Eugene who found and were making good use of some mistletoe. You looked at Kris who was reaching in his pocket. He pulled out a small wrapped box. You took it curiously.

“Be assured, Five, your friends have met all your desires, hiding their gifts for you away by the tree,” Kris said. “You have been a good friend to them, and they wish to show you their gratefulness. All the practical matters have been left to them. I have something a little more… metaphysical that I believe you have deserved. Open it.”

You used your nail to tear and peel back the wrapping, prying open the lid. Inside was a familiar golden bell, one of the many you saw sewn onto Comet’s reins. You picked it up, shaking the bell to hear its sharp jangle.

“Five, if you should ever be in great need of something, hold the thought of it in your mind and ring this bell,” Kris said, catching your eyes gravely. “It will only work once, so I trust that you will use it wisely.”

You clutched the bell tightly in your hand, giving a determined nod, trusting his word. The bell slowly warmed in the heat of your palm. You would be careful with it.

“Stay alive, Five, and take care of you and your friends,” Kris said. “They’re counting on you, and I know you are up to the challenge. Happy Christmas.”

Kris pressed a finger to his nose and winked before fading before your eyes.

You blinked, staring at the wall confused. What were you doing in the corner by yourself? Weren’t you just… You turned and walked back to your friends, shaking your head.

“Nice hat, Sam,” Simon teased. “Did Five get that for you?”

“I… I’m not sure,” Sam said, clutching the red hat in his hands, frowning, but he shrugged, putting it back on. “I rock it though, right, Maxine?”

“It’s definitely--something,” Maxine slurred intoher cup.

“Five!” Sam called. “Where did you wander off to?”

You felt like you were missing something, but you couldn’t grab hold of it. You just shrugged, sitting next to him and accepting your cup with your free hand.

“Whatchu got there, Five?” Maggie asked.

You frowned, and she gestured at your other hand curled around something. You peeled back your fingers, revealing a golden bell that glistened brightly in the light.

“Where’d you find that?” Sam asked, peering at it, his hat’s bobble flopping in his face.

You… you weren’t sure, but you felt it was important. You shrugged and pocketed it, reaching out to tug Sam’s hat down over his face. He sputtered, spilling his drink a bit, and everyone laughed, falling over themselves in joyful (and drunken) abandon if only for tonight. Your chest was bursting with happiness, and you couldn’t wipe the grin off your face all night, pressing your cheek to Sam’s when Charlie called for you all to pose.

Her camera clicked and flashed, letting out a pop. Your face ached from smiling.

---

‘Twas the night after Christmas, and all the through the township

Not a corner was sans gayful laughter and friendship

Children shrieked as their parents smiled on

Friends teasing and jeering and bursting in song

Huddled with his runners laid a young operator

No longer a child yet still a True Believer

And at his side was faithful Runner Five

A willful spirit who will fight for Abel to thrive

There is much they will face, but for now they cheer

Knowing that, in this moment, they had nothing to fear

And though midnight passed, and magic faded from their minds

On the tree in the square, an ornament hung and still shined

[6-and-out]

Understanding South Africans: 🤣😂🤣😂

Understanding the unique South African Lingo

BRAAI: What is a braai? It is the first thing you will be invited to when you visit South Africa . A braai is a backyard barbecue and it will take place whatever the weather. So you will have to go even if it's raining like mad. At a braai you will be introduced to a substance known as mieliepap.

AG: This one of the most useful South African words. Pronounced like the"ach" in the German "achtung", it can be used to start a reply when you are asked a tricky question, as in: "Ag, I don't know." Or a sense of resignation:"Ag OK, I'll have some more mieliepap then." It can stand alone too as a signal of irritation.

DONNER: A rude word, it comes from the Afrikaans "donder" (thunder).Pronounced "dorner", it means "beat up." A team member in your rugby team can get donnered in a game, or your wife can donner you if you come back from a braai at three in the morning.

EINA: Widely used by all language groups, this word, derived from the Afrikaans, means "ouch." Pronounced "aynah".You can say it in sympathy when you see your friend the day after he got donnered by his wife.

HEY: Often used at the end of a sentence to emphasize the importance of what has just been said, as in "You're only going to get donnered if you come in late again, hey?" It can also stand alone as a question.Instead of saying "excuse me?" or "pardon me?" when you have not heard something directed at you, you can always say: "Hey?"

IZIT?: This is another great word to use in conversations. Derived from the two words "is" and "it", it can be used when you have nothing to contribute if someone tells you something at a braai. For instance, if someone would say: "The Russians will succeed in their bid for capitalism once they adopt a work ethic and respect for private ownership." It is quite appropriate to respond by saying:"Izit?"

JA WELL NO FINE: This is another conversation fallback. Derived from the four words:"yes", "well", "no" and fine",it roughly means "OK". If your bank manager tells you your account is overdrawn, you can, with confidence,say: "Jawelnofine."

KLAP: Pronounced "klup" - an Afrikaans word meaning smack,whack or spank.If you spend too much time in front of the TV during exam time,you could end up getting a "klap" from your mother. In America, that is called child abuse. In South Africa , it is called promoting education.But to get "lekker geklap" is to get motherlessly drunk.

LEKKER: An Afrikaans word meaning nice, this word is used by all language groups to express approval. If you enjoyed a braai thoroughly,you can say: "Now that was lekk-errrrrrr!" while drawing out the last syllable.

TACKIES: These are sneakers or running shoes. The word is also used to describe automobile or truck tyres. "Fat tackies" are really wide tyres, as in:"You've got lekker fat tackies on your Vôlla, hey?"

DOP: This word has two basic meanings, one good and one bad. First the good: A dop is a drink, a cocktail, a sundowner, a noggin. When invited for a dop, be careful! It could be one sedate drink or ablast, depending on the company. Now the bad: To dop is to fail.If you "dopped" standard two (Grade 4) more than once, you probably won't be reading this.

SAAMIE: This is a sandwich. For generations, school- children have traded"saamies" during lunch breaks. In South Africa you don't send your kid to school with liver-polony saamies. They are impossible to trade!!

BAKKIE: This word is pronounced "bucky" and can refer to a small truck or pick-up. If a young man takes his "girl" (date) in a bakkie it could be considered as a not so "lekker" form of transport because the seats can't recline.

HOWZIT: This is a universal South African greeting, and you will hear this word throughout the country. It is often accompanied with the word"Yes!" as in: "Yes, howzit?". In which case you answer "No, fine."

NOW NOW: In much of the outside world, this is a comforting phrase:"Now now,it's really not so bad." But in South Africa , this phrase is used in the following manner: "Just wait, I'll be there now now." It means "a little after now".

TUNED GRIEF: To be tuned grief is to be aggravated, harassed. For example, if you argue with somebody about a rugby game at a braai and the person had too much dop (is a little "geklap"), he might easily get aggravated and say.: "You're tuning me grief, hey!". To continue the argument after this could be unwise and result in major tuning of grief..

BOET: This is an Afrikaans word meaning "brother" which is shared by all language groups. Pronounced "boot" but shorter, as in"foot", it can be applied to a brother or any person of the male sex. For instance a father can call his son "boet" and friends can apply the term to each other too. Sometimes the diminutive "boetie" is used.But don't use it on someone you hardly know - it will be thought patronizing and could lead to you getting a "lekker klap".

PASOP: From the Afrikaans phrase meaning "Watch Out!", this warning is used and heeded by all language groups. As in: "The boss hasn't had his coffee yet - so you better pasop boet" Sometimes just the word"pasop!" is enough without further explanation.Everyone knows it sets out a line in the sand not to be crossed.

SKOP, SKIET EN DONNER: Literally "kick, shoot and thunder", this phrase is used by many South African speakers to describe action movies. A Clint Eastwood movie is always a good choice if you're in the mood for of a lekker skop,skieten donner flick.

VROT: Pronounced - "frot". A expressive word which means"rotten" or"putrid" in Afrikaans, it is used by all language groups to describe anything they really dislike. Most commonly intended to describe fruit or vegetables whose shelf lives have long expired, but a pair of old tackies (sneakers) worn a few years too long can be termed "vrot" by some unfortunate folk which find themselves in the same vicinity as the wearer. Also a rugby player who misses important kicks or tackles can be said to have played a vrot game - opposite to a"lekker" game(but not to his face). A movie was once reviewed with this headline:"Slick Flick, Vrot Plot."

ROCK UP: To rock up is to just, sort of arrive (called "gatecrash" in other parts of the world). You don't make an appointment or tell anyone you are coming - you just rock up. Friends can do that but you have to be selective about it. For example, you can't just rock up for a job interview.

SCALE: To scale something is to steal it. A person who is"scaly" has a doubtful character, is possibly a scumbag, and should rather be left off the invitation list to your next braai.

JA-NEE: "Yes No" in English. Politics in South Africa has always been associated with family arguments and in some cases even with physical fights. It is believed that this expression originated with a family member who didn't want to get a klap or get donnerred, so he just every now and then muttered "ja-nee". Use it when you are required to respond, but would rather not choose to agree or disagree.