The Christmas Spirit

A merry belated Christmas, everyone! And a happy early New Year! To celebrate, here's a very special, Christmassy TF story for you all. A collaboration with the wonderful visceral-stories, who has so graciously teamed up with me to write this story full of festive cheer! Do go give him your support. And, hey, maybe throw me a bone too. 😉

THE CHRISTMAS SPIRIT

 

It's nearly Christmas, and all Trevor wants is to ruin the holidays for everyone in his home of Mistletoe Valley. After his gang of destined high school drop-outs cause a ruckus at the mall, Trevor happens upon a golden invitation offering him the opportunity to escape his delinquent life, and begin a new one as the greatest festive icon of all. But will he take it? It appears he has no choice in the matter!

Better Treatment

Scott grunted as he pushed a lawnmower around his neighbor's yard. It was freezing outside, and there was still frost on the ground. Yet even though he couldn't see over the handles, he persisted. He knew he hadn't been the best boy this year, but even this wasn't worth getting into Santa's good books. He grumbled, recalling how Mr. Drummer suggested to his mom that he could do good deeds around his house to appease those watchful elves that reported on his daily doings. Scott knew the grump only wanted some free labor, for him to do the stuff he didn't want to. But he couldn't back down now. They were so close to Christmas, he could make it on the nice list, and get that Lego set he'd been dreaming of.

Speak of the devil, Drummer came out from the house wearing a bulky overcoat that clung to his belly, and a knitted hat atop his bald cranium. He stopped at the border between grass and pavement, and shook his head with a tut. "You won't be finished by sundown at this rate."

"Couldn't I have a break? My back is killing me..."

"Wait until you're my age, then we can talk about backs," Drummer grumbled back. "You wouldn't complain so much if you did your own chores at home. Now you know how your poor mother feels."

"Yeah, yeah..." Scott gave another push of the lawnmower, the motor vibrations shuddering up his arms. "But surely this could have waited until after Christmas? I can barely push the thing..."

"Ah, quit whining!" As Scott came closer, Drummer proceeded to pull a Santa hat from inside his coat, and hastily shoved it onto the boy's head. "There we go, may as well be festive while you're out here. When you're done with the lawn, I'll find you something warmer to do. Cleaning the stove, maybe..." He wandered back to the house with a cackle.

Scott groaned. His neighbor was deliberately making this tough for him. They weren't exactly on good terms after he knocked a tennis ball into his greenhouse, but this was too far. He sighed. "I wish Mr. Drummer would treat me better..." But that was as likely as catching Santa in the act. After a moment of self-pity, he got back to mowing the lawn.

Proof

I can't believe I've been grounded! So Mom caught me smoking one little cigarette, what's the big deal? S'not like I do it all the time. That she knows... Besides, it was all Tony's fault! He was the one who gave it to me in the first place. But he doesn't get in trouble, I do... And who cares if I smoke? Mom says it's a nasty habit, and can ruin your life. But lots of people do it every day, and they're just fine. Plus, Grandpa smokes! And he's healthier than all the other old people I've met. If only I could prove that Mom's acting all protective for no reason, then maybe I can get ungrounded...

It's a good thing I have this hat. Brett says that these promotional Santa hats everyone's been getting have some sorta weird power in them. He says that he wished for better grades at school, and now he's the smartest kid in class! Sure, he always was a genius, but I s'pose it changes other peoples' memories too? At least, that's what it sounded like when he explained it to me. And he's the brainiest guy I know, so it's gotta be true! 

I stuck the Santa hat on my head, and sighed. This better work... I thought through exactly what I wanted, and after a few minutes, I said out loud, "I wish I could prove I'll live a long life even if I smoke..." I waited, hoping that maybe some useful evidence or knowledge would suddenly come to me. But nothing. I can't believe I actually thought Brett was telling the truth. I feel so stupid...

I slammed a fist onto my bedside table, only for the drawer to slide open. Weird, it's never done that before. As I was about to close it, I noticed something inside. I reached in, and pulled out some weird looking log. I gave it a smell, and recognized the tobacco. Of course, it's a cigar! But I never put a cigar in there. And I don't know anyone who smokes them. Even Grandpa sticks to his fancy pipes. Still, it's pretty cool to have around. I put the cigar between my teeth, and was surprised as it automatically lit itself. Then I knew. This was exactly what I needed. If I want to prove I'll live a long life, then that's what I'll have to do. The magic hat was working!

License To Drink

"Come oooon, dad! Just one drink?"

"Absolutely not!"

"But it's Christmas!"

"Not for another 3 weeks, it's not. Not like that would make a difference..."

Max sulked as his dad walked off to greet another couple who had just knocked at the door. He was almost 16, he was practically an adult. It's not like he'd never tried beer before, so why did it matter if he had a little drink? It was a party! It wasn't even a cool party, just a gathering of some people his parents knew. None of his friends were allowed to come. At least alcohol would make things interesting...

Max knocked the white bobble on his Santa hat out of his face, and grumbled to himself. "I wish I could drink alcohol without getting into trouble..."

He slunk into the kitchen, preparing to grab a plate of finger food before retreating to his bedroom for the evening, when he stumbled into his uncle Jack, who had a sly grin on his face. "I overheard your little tiff with your pa."

"Yeah, so?" Max griped. He didn't want to talk to anyone else. Jack tapped his nose, then suddenly produced a bottle of beer from behind his back. Max's eyes lit up, as he snatched it from his uncle's hands. "O-M-G, you wouldn't!"

Jack shrugged his shoulders. "It's a teen's nature to rebel, and who am I to deny nature?" He reasoned as he took the bottle back, pouring the amber contents into a plastic red cup. "Don't worry, I'll keep your ol' pa occupied."

Max was bubbling with excitement as he took the cup from his uncle. "Thank you! You're the coolest!" Jack merely put a finger to his lips, then strutted into the main party room, straight up to his younger brother. Max ducked further into the kitchen, and took a moment to appreciate his alcoholic gift before taking a gulp from the cup. It burned the back of his throat, and sent a shiver down his spine. He'd forgotten how bitter beer could taste. He didn't like it much the first time, and it still left an unpleasant taste in his mouth. But he couldn't pass up his uncle's offering. He braced himself, then gulped down the whole cup in one go.