A confused, naked Santa walks into a bar in Hogadon, telling the bartender a joke beginning, “What’s white and doesn’t swim?” He then does something totally inappropriate which bars him from the property altogether.
“Santas. All over the place. Either getting killed or driven stark raving mad. Hogadon Santy is the last example, body saved but the mind may never return. Useless for Christmas, you see.” He wraps himself tightly in his chair. “I could be next, Fairy Ruby. Sorry: Mrs. Claus.”
“Nah. We’re back on The Straight now. Seven never happened.”
Fairy Ruby Mrs. Claus realized she was being rude. “Oh… do you want a tart? They’re cherry.” Then she remembered the appointment. Already 1 day late. Casey One Hole will be in a bad mood. Which is not a good thing. Atall.
Santa-Axis suddenly found himself alone again, pondering on his ultimate fate. Perhaps another visit to the Vilania Safe Hub next door with all its harmless madness will perk him up. Make him jolly once more.
Over on a mountain top in Jaffee, another Santa takes what he fears might be his last look at a favorite Christmas tree.
For just in back of the treehouse he cowers beneath lurks the giant rogue snowman already responsible for the death of seven.
“Another one, Woody. The killings are increasing again!”
“I blame it on those gall darn cottages, Snowmanster, three in number. Probably four at this point — I haven’t checked. My key hasn’t checked either.”
Snowmanster turns to the large, wooden toy. “Woody. You *are* the key!”
Merely through this statement, Woody then realized they were on the precipice of the fourth, even if it hadn’t actually been created yet. More bad news for the day; seems Core-Alena, Purden, and all of Snowlands are really, truly doomed.
“Where are they, Santa-Axis? We specified 2:01 for a meeting.”
“Says here in the journal that they’ve found a dead Santa in the gorge over yonder. Probably within shouting distance, then.” Santa-Axis turns in the appropriate direction. “Woody! Woooo-dyyyyy!”
The snow fell harder as darkness increased.
“I think I’ve lost my way, sir,” addressed Casey the Alien to serviceman Bill Pill. “Can you help me get back home?”
“First hall to the right, first door on the left,” Bill offered without needing further details. He’d seen all this before.
“I’ve lost my way, sir,” Bill repeated to the person opposite him, who was also the same as him. “I need to find my way back home.”
The other Casey leaned forward, staring straight ahead with black, smoldering coals for eyes. “I don’t *need* anything.” He kept staring until the other acquiesced.
“Neither… do I,” the Casey on this side then spoke. He was home.
Casey One Hole waits in his chair for the actual visitor today. A woman named Ruby. Something about a prison breakout. And cherry tarts.
The other prisoners wait patiently as well.
Chip Westerhouse was the first guard posted at the newly built and still unoccupied women’s addition to the Cheri State Military Prison prison bordering Linden protected Xilted. His assignment required he not move from his post…
… but he did have this great view to contemplate while standing still for so long.
Supergal Flo looked on from afar, wondering how many alternate realities she’d have to manipulate in order to stay out of that hideous place for any length of time.
Sans bowtie, Casey the Alien ran far far away from the new Middletown establishment hidden inside a native skyscraper, realizing he had been tricked into being.
He even ran into a tree and kept on running. All the way out of this sim.
“So Karl (Karl!). What’s the story with the painting of the little girl with the blue purse?”
“That goes back a looong way, Dr. Superhero. With *blue* bowtie,” he adds on.
“Please, Mr. Bartender. Do tell.”
“I just did.”
He realizes the bowtie is the same as the purse, listening Mystic Girl thinks from the far side of the bar. Both tack ons. But does he realize he *is* the painting now? I created him. I should know.
“Something just happened, Karl.”
“Oh boy,” the furry bartender exclaimed anxiously, and quickly left the scene, claiming to be restocking in back.