I almost didn’t write one of these this year, but it just didn’t feel right not doing something for Christmas, but I was a bit lacking in inspiration. Still, here we go again, continuing off from where we left Santa, Marty, Timmy, Claude and all the elves last year, and the year before that. If you need a refresher course in what’s happened, you can find every previous entry from the last two years here, in reverse order, naturally. This year’s entry will have a bit of a slow start unfortunately, but I hope you all enjoy it, and Merry Christmas! I’ll have another present for all my Patreon supporters tomorrow as well.
Nothing. That’s what had happened in the workshop so far. Well, not exactly nothing–the mass of elves had been hard at work, at least, crafting an all new manner of disturbing and perverse toys for the men of the world to enjoy come Christmas day. But, as far as having someone deliver them, or as far as having a head elf to take charge and lead them through the final push to the holiday, which by now was a mere week away…nothing.
True, last Christmas had been a fiasco, between Timmy plotting against Santa and turning him into a near total pig, Timmy resurrecting Marty from his rubber prison, only for Marty to turn around and…well, no one knew what had happened to Claude, exactly. Marty had dragged him into his workshop, and no one had seen him since. Marty had emerged at dawn long enough to run out onto the runway, shoot the newly swined Santa with his prototype love gun, only to have Santa turn on Marty–the new love of his life–and turn him into a pig as well. And so, there things stood. Marty and taken Santa with him back into his private workshop, Timmy had disappeared into his own private lair with the remains of Marty’s love gun, and neither of them had emerged once for almost a year. The elves were getting anxious. If nothing changed soon…then what? There were, of course, counter-measures in place for a missing Santa, but those required a head elf to instigate, and no one had been designated as the interim leader. All they could do now, was wait, and hope something happened before Christmas Eve.
That day, however, something did happen, at last. Timmy burst from his workshop, cackling like a madman, a sizable beard on his face, holding aloft the repaired and improved gun Marty had abandoned after shooting Santa the year before. Finally, it was done. If Marty didn’t love him, then Timmy would just have to make his fellow elf fall in–or out–of love. His version could destroy a relationship as fast as it could make one, and he stormed across the floor of the workshop, shoving elves out of his way like he didn’t even see them, until he came to the door of Marty’s workshop, rattled the door on it’s hinges, and shouted, “I know you’re still in there Marty, and you’re gonna love me whether you want to or not!”
He pulled a key from his pocket–a masterkey he’d invented that could defeat any lock–slid it into the latch, broke the lock, flung open the door…and his heart sank. Marty–the Marty he’d known–his workshop had always been more chaotic than not, but it was chaos backed by planning and creativity. There was order there, even if he’d never been able to see it, but this…this was madness. The entire room was trashed. It looked like no work had been done in months, if not longer. How long had Marty been able to withstand it? Not long enough. The two pigs were rutting against a wall–the fatter one, Santa, although he had lost nearly all traces of his once humanity at this point, was squealing and throwing himself back at the stunted boar behind him, ramming a massive cock into his hole. It turned to Timmy when the door opened, but it’s eyes–they were dark and feral, they didn’t even recognize him, or even care that it was being watched. He was too late–much, much too late to be able to do any good. But…now what?
He stepped back and closed the door behind him, and found himself faced with every elf on the floor of the workshop, or on the catwalks, all staring down at him. A few were happy, or perhaps simply relieved, but most were angry. He’d…he’d let them down, and he looked to the digital clock counting down to launch, and his stomach bottomed out. He’d been so lost in his work, he hadn’t even grappled with how much time he’d wasted on the whole fool’s errand, and yet…it still hurt. It hurt more than anything, knowing that not only did Marty not love him, but that Marty…Marty was gone. Gone forever, probably. But he couldn’t think about that. He couldn’t do anything about that now, and so he pulled the door shut and locked it again, and called a meeting of the elves.
He apologized. He was begrudgingly forgiven, but the elves knew they had a bigger problem. Without a Santa, there could be no Christmas, and if there was no Christmas–well, then they would all cease to exist–forever. Thankfully, there were emergency measures that could be taken, and had been taken before, when a Santa had, for whatever reason, been lost, or abandoned their post. In fact, there had been many, many different Santa’s over the years, and all of them had brought their distinct flair to the position–leading in many cases to the variety of myths surrounding him. The elves biggest mistake, by far, was the serial killer Krampus they’d selected who’d run around the world murdering children for close to a century, before finally getting knocked off himself. Timmy declared the state of emergency, and from outside the workshop came a strange rumbling. The elves ran out to investigate, and found that Santa’s house was shaking until a bright light–a beacon, really–rose from the ground, hovered over the house for a moment, flashing bright, and then flew off into the dark night.
The next step, then, was retrieval, and that was all up to Timmy. The elves got the reindeer suited up and ready to fly, and Timmy hopped in the sleigh, took the reigns and flew off after the shining light, following it south. It would lead him to the next Santa, and the next legend–all he’d have to do is convince him to take the position.
Bracken's Corner 