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Another Catrina Christmas, Part One

by on December 24, 2012

And now, a special episode of the Catrina Chronicles.


It was a white Christmas at Shmirmingard Castle, and Catrina was merrily building a snowman out in the front courtyard. She had briefly considered making it a snowwoman, but then realized that the only way to do this would be to make the top part of the snow-woman anatomically correct, and that would just be awkward. So she had gone traditional, stick-arms, carrot nose, and so on. She had nearly finished; all that was left was the hat. Catrina cast about for a minute. “I need a hat!” she declaimed. Then she became aware that a small crowd of readers had tuned in. “Ah. Yes. It’s the annual Christmas episode of the Catrina Chronicles, isn’t it. I wish I’d known that; I would’ve opened up with something a bit more moving than ‘I need a hat’. Oh well. Hello out there, all you lovely readers. I’d like to take this opportunity to share with you a few thoughts on the season;Β  I was going to give this speech last year, but Susan interrupted. I hate her. Anyway. You see, dear readers, I have always felt that Christmas is a time when-”

“Hey,” Ermingard interrupted. “I found a hat. Woohoo.”Β  She held up the hat for Catrina’s inspection; it was a standard black silk top hat.

Catrina sighed; she had a feeling she was never going to give her Christmas Speech. “Maybe next year,” she consoled herself. “Right. Let’s see if the hat works. Oh, by the way, for those of you just tuning in, this is Ermingard. She’s my bestie, as they say on the streets. I saved her from an enchanted sleep a while back. Also right now in the normal continuity of things she’s about to get eaten by cannibalistic Vikings. Fortunately this is the special Christmas episode, and cannibalistic Vikings can’t eat anyone in the special Christmas episode.”

“You’ve no idea how relieved I am to hear that,” Ermingard said sardonically. “By the by, I was worried about that hat; it looks odd and mysterious. Suppose it does something creepy like bring your snowman to life?”

“Ermie, you’re worried about everything. It’s Christmas Eve! Lighten up! Besides, even if it did bring the snowman to life, I’m sure he’d be a happy jolly soul!”

Before Ermingard could object further, Catrina set the hat squarely on the snowman’s head. There was a flash and a bang, and a horrid rush of smell. The skies darkened. The snowman trembled, its coal eyes blazed, and it gave a sudden furious roar. Catrina stepped backward slowly, raising her hands. “Right, now, let’s just calm down and be reasonable, okay? You’re supposed to be a happy jolly soul, but maybe that’s not your style. Fine. I can live with that. So why don’t we just go about our business, and you can go do whatever it is snowmen do, and everything will be peaceful and happy, okay?”

The snowman didn’t appear interested in Catrina’s peaceful overtures. It had gotten teeth somehow, nasty sharp things, and it bared them viciously at her. Catrina resigned herself to the fact that she hadn’t made a new friend; it seemed she had created a deranged snow-monster. She was getting used to these sorts of things. Her red Sporksaber leapt to her hand. “You want to dance, Frosty? Very well. Let’s dance.” Catrina hurled herself bodily at the snowman, red Sporksaber flying in a blaze of crackling energy.

For a lumbering snow-creature, it was awfully quick; it dodged her first assault and smacked her with its mighty stick hand as she flew past, knocking her headlong into a nearby nativity scene. Catrina felt a pain in an uncomfortable place, and realized that she had inadvertently landed on Baby Jesus. “Sorry,” she apologized, setting the tiny figure back in the manger, and dashing off to attack the mutant snowman again. The horrible snow-creature lurched toward her, roaring and waving its stick arms about. Catrina leaped up, snap-kicking the creature right in its carrot nose so hard that the carrot flew back through its head and out the other side. Catrina wondered if snow-creatures were like zombies: a double-tap to the head and it’s all over. When the hole in the snow-creature’s head sealed itself up, however, and the snow-creature came bellowing at her again, Catrina realized that it wasn’t like a standard zombie. “Hm,” she said, as the snow-creature raised its powerful arm high, ready to bash her in the head as if it were Little Bunny Foo-Foo and she were a field mouse. “This could be a problem.”

To be continued….





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  1. Why yes, I DO need to catch up (again) with CATRINA, but for now I am giving you an award instead πŸ™‚

    • Oh, you shouldn’t have! πŸ˜› Seriously, I’m touched. You are a great bloggy friend as well. πŸ™‚

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