“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 don’t think he-she’s coming out of there, wife of mine. I think we’ve lost her-him to Utah.”
“Don’t always be so negative about things, husband so dear. Utah was chosen by all.”
They paused, considered. Then Fairy Ruby, who was now playing the permitted seasonal role of Mrs. Claus, spoke up again.
“I wonder if Snowmanster will show up to save the day? Like Superman.”
“Depends…” and they both say this in sync: “… if our user splurges the 400 lindens to make it so.” 4 again, I realize beyond the screen, like 40000 but 100 times less. 2 dollars? I think I can manage it.
“I’m here to save the day!” an extremely, nay, *irritatingly* high pitched Snowmanster wannabe called from the edge of the compound.
“Cheapskate,” groused observing Santa-Axis softer to his wife. Then: “Okay, um, *Snowmanster*! Come join us by the fire for a powwow won’t you!”
“Don’t mind if I do! Don’t mind if I do!”
He was still yelling, even from a few feet away. “Well?! Who’s going to start!?” They stare, waiting for the change. Will it come? Hold on…
“Well Brevin. Time to face death square on.”
But upon teleporting in, Fairy Ruby sees there are no more freshly dug graves to examine. She logs out then back in to make sure all objects at the small cemetery have properly rezzed. No difference.
Just three remaining graves surrounding a Halloween Bat Tree. All have been around for a while.
Maybe I better talk to Axis tonight about all this.
“Still playing around with form, I see,” stated Axis after sitting down in the Winter Harvest Chair beside the red clad fairy. He notices the hearts. “I like it — but why did you change your hair from black to white?”
“Death will do that. Scare the color out of you.”
Axis glanced back at the shrunk cemetery surrounding the dark tree. “Did you know I was Halloween Jack before the merger? And Nick, and also Melvin, who is kind of Uncle Sam. The great 3-n-1. Would you like to see?”
Fairy Ruby finished her last bite of cherry tart. “Sure. Let’s see what you’ve got.”
Axis focused hard, but found he couldn’t produce the needed entity. “Alright,” he said, exhaling. “That’s no good. Let me try the next one.”
“Melvin?” questions the girl.
“Oh. That one.”
“Yeah. Sorry it turned out a little hunchbacked.” He attempted to adjust his unwieldy arms so that they weren’t as much all over the place.
She looked him over. “Listen. I have an idea…”
One by one, the Clemscott holiday deities Santa God, Halloween Jack, and Melvin exited their decorated, semi-decorated, and undecorated castles in the sky and made their way into the Nascera related Wizard Retreat of the same plane, never to be seen or heard from again.
Eventually, a man formed in their place, the great 3-n-1. Axis was his name, a person of many faces. One of those faces was called JERRY.
He came out of the Wizard Retreat into a brave new world: Nascera. The date: December 22, 2009.
Oops! Give him several more hours and he’s over there for sure. “Sorry about that!” he apologies to the reader or readers. “Just warming up, you know.”
“They’ve been out there a long time, Golden Joe. I wonder if the deal will go through?”
“Have you ever thought about traveling to the center of the sun, Marion,” she deviated in her deep, metallic voice. “It’s actually quite nice.”
“I remember Philip mentioning that concept once. Philip something.”
“Alright, I won’t split hairs any more, Cooper. We’re both tired; 50,000 lindens it is. Now spill your contents on the table here and let’s count it out.”
Left to right: Santa God, Melvin, Halloween Jack (Forest Retreat, Clemscott 2018/2/5)
Marion Harding hated the multi-leveled Christmastown section of Capitol City, but there was a considerable amount of money to be made on this particular deal. Elf trafficking. And this was the time of the year for boom and bust on it. He scouts out one of the main streets from a safe distance, watching some kind of grandma figure be gorged over and over by a reindeer gone rogue. He enjoyed *this*!
Bing Avenue it was called for reasons he didn’t understand. Anyway, that’s where the deal would hopefully go down, har.
He turns in his tracks. Snowing outside still. Better get busy and then head home before it’s over his guns again.
“Five green and two red.”
“Four green and three red,” he reluctantly countered. This would be his final offer.
“Ohh, ummm. Four and a 1/2 green, 2 and a 1/2…”
“You can’t split one of your elves in two,” Marion Harding gruffly pointed out. “Four and three. Take it or leave it.”
“Oh… *all right*.”
Santa God shakes Marion Harding’s hand, sealing the deal.
He leaves Capitol City to return to his Clemscott castle down 7 elves but up 10,000 lindens. Overall, a pretty decent haul and most likely worth the 3 kilometer long trip, he thinks.
MERRY CHRISTMAS TO ALL!