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A Very Catrina Christmas

by on November 24, 2011

Snow had fallen around Shmirmingard Castle, a light pleasant snow, just enough to make snowballs and throw them at people so that they soak into people’s underwear, but not quite enough to muck up the roads and make driving impossible. It was, in short, a perfect Christmas snow.

Princess Catrina had enjoyed a wonderful dinner with her family, and Catrina had carved the roast beast herself with her repaired lightsaber. Now she was lying back in a comfortable armchair before a roaring fire, sipping from a mug of hot cocoa, listening to her minstrels playing that song about the guy who met his old lover in the grocery store. Catrina noted said old lover was married to an architect, and wondered how that architect would feel if he knew his wife had just spent several hours drinking a six-pack of beer with some old flame from high school. That sort of thing never seemed to come up in the song.

Just as the sad little saxophone was starting to play the saddest little rendition of Auld Lang Syne (and don’t ask how medieval minstrels have a saxophone, they just do. roll with it.), Catrina felt the gaze of potentially dozens of readers upon her. She turned and smiled brightly. “Hi there! Welcome to a Shmirmingard Christmas. Now, I know what you’re thinking: Catrina, your author is writing a NaNo-novel starring you. How come you can appear for a Christmas episode? What if you got erased from existence in the novel? Wouldn’t this violate all sorts of continuity?”

“Well,” she said, her left eye twitching ever so slightly, “those are all very good questions. First off, my author wouldn’t dare kill me permanently. Right? …RIGHT? Of course, right. Secondly, because this is a very special Christmas (technically post-Thanksgiving, but whatevs) episode, we’re outside the normal continuity. And so, as the snow falls lightly outside and the holiday season officially begins, I thought I would just take a moment and share a few thoughts with you.”

Just then, outside, Catrina heard a clatter! Yes, it was, a veritable clatter! Then she heard trompings on the roof, and the faintest jingle, and then a rattling sound just above her fireplace. Catrina spun around to face the chimney, her eyes shining, so excited she broke into a VeggieTales song. “Oh, Santa! I can’t wait for you to come, I just can’t wait for you to come, and I’ve got cookies! Three yummy cookies! Just for you for when you come, only for you for when you come….because it’s Christmaaaaas!” *ding ding*.

Suddenly there was a crash, and the fire blazed out once in creepy green flames and then died in black smoke, and out of the smoke sprang a decidedly un-Santa-like figure, who promptly burst into song. “I’m Susan! And I’ve come to bash your head! Oh yes, I’ve come to bash your head, and I’ve come to ruin your story and your singing! And I’m going to burn down your castle, and soil your quilts!”

Catrina drew her lightsaber. “Susan. Must you? Really? It’s Christmas! Is nothing sacred? Is there no abomination you wouldn’t commit?”

“Um….no, there really isn’t. I’m the villain, hello! Remember the kitten-fur jacket? That not do enough for you? Well, guess what. You see these shoes?” Susan pointed to the shiny golden shoes on her feet. “I stole them. From a little boy who was buying them for his dying mother. See, she’s been sick for quite a while, and he knew those shoes would make her smile, and he wanted her to look beautiful, when his mama meets Jesus tonight…but she won’t, will she, because I stole ’em right out the kid’s hand! And then I told him that Santa wasn’t a real person! Ha! It’s the most wonderful time of the year!”

“You…you…you’re a mean one, Susan. You’ve got termites in your smile! You have all the tender sweetness of a seasick crocodile! In fact, given the choice between the two of you, I’d take the seasick crocodile!”

Susan smirked. “You have weird dating preferences.”

Catrina glared more fiercely than Kris Kringle in the remake of Miracle on 34th Street when that mean drunk Santa was taunting him. “My name is Princess Catrina. You’re ruining my Christmas. PREPARE TO DIE!”

She raised her lightsaber, Susan drew her own, but before they could meet in titanic battle, a tiny purplish sugar plum dropped down the chimney, careened off a smouldering log, and landed on the floor. Susan gave a gleeful yelp and scooped it up. “Hey, a sugar plum! How unexpected! I can have a quick snack right before I kill you! Oh  joy, oh….why is the sugar plum beeping?”

*beep beep beep beebeebee beeeeeeeeeeee…….*

“Oh, no.”

*WHOOOOMPF*

Catrina waited for the “ow”, but it didn’t come. She’d looked away from the bright purple-y flash, now, when she looked back, she couldn’t help but giggle. Somehow, magically, Susan had turned into a tiny little sugar plum herself. Then Catrina heard another rattling above her fireplace, and then a pair of black boots dropped through, followed by a jolly man cloaked in red. “Santa!” she exclaimed.

“Ho ho ho!” he boomed in merry laughter. “Merry Christmas! I’ll just pop her away, shall I? Excellent!” he scooped the sugar plum and tucked it away into a little wooden box. “Here you go,” he said, handing the box off to Catrina, “I believe defeating Susan was on your list, yes?”

“Well, yes,” Catrina said, scuffling her boots in embarrassment, “and, well…there was also the Shetland pony…”

Santa grinned. “For that, you’ll have to wait till tomorrow! Now, I must be going, I do have lots more ground to cover!” With that, he whisked back up the chimney again. Catrina ran to the window, and there he was, soaring off into the night, yelling something she couldn’t make out, because she’d neglected to actually open the window. Still, she had her early Christmas present, and she could reasonably expect a Shetland pony in the morning, and that was enough for her. She placed the box with the Susan-sugar-plum in it on the mantelpiece, took up her candle, and headed towards bed, already preparing for visions of more of her lifelong enemies getting magically turned into sugar plums. Just before she left the room, though, she turned back to face her readers. “Well, that was fun. I do hope you enjoyed this slightly unexpected Shmirmingard Christmas, and that you have a wonderful holiday season, all the way through New Year’s. And, for all you other story characters out there, may your authors bless you, every one!”

This has been a Very Special episode of the Catrina Chronicles. It was also written using Prompt Forty-Five of the Chrysalis Experiment. Thanks for reading, and Merry Christmas!

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4 Comments
  1. This is now my favorite X-mas tale!
    Well done!

    • Thanks! I think, when I have kids, I will read it to them every Christmas, instead of the usual thing like “A Christmas Carol”, or watching “It’s a Wonderful Life”. It’ll be a tradition!

  2. I know I’m a bit late in the reading of this, but I have now read it, and I loved it! 🙂 You could probably repost it every year at Christmastime 🙂 …well, post-Thanksgivingtime. hehe

    p.s. I guess I have to sign in with Twitter, as signing in with Google wasn’t working! 😉

    • How peculiar. I haven’t changed the comment settings on the blog or anything. Google must be having a glitch. Oh dear.
      And yes, I’m totally reposting this at Christmastime. Or I might write a sequel. Christmases with Catrina could be an annual tradition! 🙂

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