LotS/The Story/Christmas Chaos

<tabber> "Zone Intro"= Zone Intro
"Tentacles!" Adrian Zanfran said, as he walked across the lobby.

He emphasized the point by waving those purple appendages in the air. The Rylattu behind the reception desk, a green-skinned male he didn't recognize, stared at them before gazing down at something.

Though the desk hid it from him, Adrian knew there was a terminal there. Its screen would at that moment be displaying a picture of the freelance human, accompanied by the words: 'Authorized Stink-Beast! Do Not Disintegrate!'

The green Rylattu looked up at him again, and stopped reaching for whatever weapon of mass destruction he had to hand.

"I'm Adrian Zanfran. Pleased to meet you."

The receptionist glanced down and frowned.

"It says your name is 'Adnan Zebra'."

Adrian sighed. It was somewhat gratifying that Barp Sek Bul had settled on one name to call him by, rather than hurling an endless barrage of incorrect appellations. But it would have been more gratifying still if it had been correct.

"That's my... work name. Where's Kwix?"

"The overlord summoned her."

The freelance human sauntered across the portion of the lobby which lay beyond the reception desk and its emerald-skinned sentinel. A few of the building's other denizens glared at him, perhaps out of habit. But most regarded him with nothing more than indifferent blinks. A few even nodded or spoke words of greeting, which Adrian returned with a smile. None of them fired weapons in his direction or tried to otherwise ensure his doom. Things had changed a great deal over the months since he'd started working for the Mighty Rylattu Publishing House of Ultimate Might.

Both elevators' doors were sealed when he approached. One conveyance was already in ascent. The other had stopped many floors up, where it was presumably disgorging its passengers. This didn't diminish the morning cheer on Adrian's face. It was still in full bloom when he entered the stairwell.

The stairs themselves were superfluous to him these days. He moved into the space alongside the first flight instead, and reached up with his right tentacle. That powerful purple limb grabbed hold of the bannister above. Then it pulled Adrian upwards, until the shorter tentacle at the end of his left arm could seize another.

Like an ape swinging from branch to branch, he climbed the middle of the stairwell in a series of tentacular grasps and pulls. And to think he'd once been dismayed to find those useful appendages on his body...

That brisk, invigorating assent brought him to his floor. His more conventional limbs walked him the rest of the way, until he stood before his terminal. He dropped into the now familiar chair and watched the holographic screen come to life in response to his presence.

His previous night's work manifested before him. Lines of green text blazed in all their toxic-waste-colored glory. But only for a moment. Then a red face emerged from the screen, throwing the greenness aside in all directions.

"Adnan Zebra!"

"Good morning, overlord. The report you wanted-"

"Come to Conference Room 3 immediately!"

"What-"

"Immediately, wretched stink-beast!"

Adrian sighed, rose from his chair, and headed back into the corridor. He made his way to the designated chamber, and pondered what new happenstance or misfortune might be about to rain down on him. It wasn't unusual for the overlords to summon him into their presence and thrust some completely new task at him, quashing his previous brief despite prior insistence that his continued integration relied upon its fulfillment. He hoped that wouldn't happen this time. He was rather enjoying the challenge of finding new ways to market anti-human literature to mankind (his chief plan was to pass if off as satire).

But when he arrived at Conference Room 3, and its door opened in front of him, bewilderment usurped trepidation.

"Ah, Adnan Zebra!"

Barp Sek Bul took hold of Adrian's right tentacle and pulled him into the room. Rylattu faces surrounded him, each one beaming beneath, of all things, a Santa hat.

"How long has it been since you first came to us as a worthless, sniveling human minion seeking employment?" the overlord asked.

"Well, it's been-"

"I once considered destroying you! But now I am pleased that my mighty Rylattu intellect led me to spare you. In spite of your pathetic whining, and your habit of leaving filthy human limbs in our lobby-"

"That wasn't my fault! My arm was blown off!"

"Silence, stink-beast! As I was saying... You have been a useful minion. Because you understand your disgusting and moronic species, our sales to humans have increased by fifty million percent!"

At that pronouncement, the other Rylattu broke into a round of applause, and Adrian beamed as much as the rest of the gathering. Granted, the Mighty Rylattu Publishing House of Ultimate Might had once measured sales of its books to humans in single digits. Hence they still only claimed a tiny audience among the trillions of human beings in the galaxy. But even so, the freelance human was proud.

"I have decided to reward you!"

"Thank you, overlord!"

"Today is a special day on your laughable homeworld."

"It's Christmas!"

"Kwix informed me of this pathetic event. Now behold my mighty magnanimity!"

He clapped his hands together.

First there came a tantalizing aroma, a blend of delicious smells that tickled Adrian's nose and evoked countless glorious memories. Then a dozen or so Rylattu surged into the room, knocking him spinning.

Each of them bore a huge platter, which they distributed across the conference table. Adrian Zanfran recovered his balance just in time to be barged aside once more, when the surge repeated itself in reverse. But he didn't care. For the feast they'd left in their wake would have excused a multitude of sins.

There were golden turkeys and roast hams, glistening with succulent juices that made his mouth water and the tips of his tentacles curl. Among them, vying for his eyes, nose, touch, and tongue, Christmas puddings rose as rich, fruity mountains beneath thick layers of snow. Mince pies were arranged in neat sugary stacks, forming step pyramids upon which health and moderation yearned to be sacrificed at the priestly hands of taste and pleasure. Pitchers of eggnog, bottles of port, and sundry other beverages stood in orderly units, awaiting the call which would send them into battle against the tiresome forces of thirst and sobriety. It was a veritable festive banquet.

"Begin feasting!" Barp Sek Bul said.

"Overlord, this is... it's... I..."

"I said begin feasting, wretched stink-beast!"

So Adrian did.

"...and... and..."

The freelance human paused blinked. Had there always been that many Rylattu in the room? And had they always been so blurry? He looked down at the glass of eggnog in his hand. How much brandy had they put in it?

"Well?" a blue female demanded. "Then what?"

"Oh... And a partridge in a pear tree."

She frowned.

"That song is repetitive and absurd! Who would relish those pathetic gifts? Partridges? Pear trees? Hens? Ridiculous!"

"Wait!" the Supreme Editing Overlord said. "Those maids, drummers, pipers, and lords could become valuable minions -- if their worthless human brains are capable of learning more useful skills."

"Ah, of course, overlord!"

The Rylattu began to discuss the matter at length, and ponder such questions as whether drummers or pipers would make better slaves.

Adrian wandered over to the table for another mince pie.

"Adrian Zanfran!"

He turned. Kwix stood before him, her eyes shiny and bleary.

"Kwix! Merry Christmas! Thank you for... for..." He waved at the festive board, and the still rather substantial remains of its goodly viands.

"I read your report on stink-beast holidays," she said, "and learned all the customs of this 'Christmas'. They consist largely of gluttony and alcoholism!"

"Maybe, but Christmas is also about-"

The receptionist raised something above her head. Something green. It wobbled in her drunken grasp.

"By the laws and traditions of this pathetic festival, you must now kiss me!"

"Huh? I..."

"Kiss me, puny human, or I will destroy you!"

Adrian had worked there long enough to know that was no idle threat. So he pulled her into a tentacled embrace, and their lips met.

He hoped she wouldn't obliterate him for this when she sobered up... |-| "Guns Are for Girls" = Guns Are for Girls
Dashing through the mall,
Looking for good deeds to do,
She saw a girl bawl,
And Santa Claus too.
She stopped then and there,
Thinking she'd lend aid,
And learn about the girl's despair,
So she could her mood upgrade.


"I want a gun, want a gun!"
Cried the little tot,
"But Santa won't give me one,
So he's left me all upsot!
Want a gun, want a gun!"
Cried the little tot,
"But Santa won't give me one,
So he's left me all upsot!"


"Upsot's not a real word!"
Fat Santa Claus replied,
"And this gun's not for her,
Someone get her eyes dried!"
"You're such a sexist brute!"
Talia told him back,
"There is no reason girls can't shoot!
So don't make me attack!"


"Give me that gun, me that gun!"
Talia Ryx said,
And snatched it from Santa's hand,
For the girl with eyes so red.
"Here's the gun! Here's the gun!
No more tears shed!
Santa's just a sexist jerk,
I should slap his stupid head!"


"Silly cow, silly cow!"
Said his angry face.
"That's no toy, it's a real gun,
I carry the thing in case,
Some kids're bad, really bad,
Act like a disgrace!
Oh, look what you've gone and done,
The girl's shooting up the place!"
|-| "Christmas Kebabs" = Christmas Kebabs
The mighty Niflung walked out,
'Fore the feast of Stephen,
Gazing all ways round about,
To the heavens even,
Searching for some folk to help,
On the day of yule,
Upon a soup kitchen strayed,
Serving winter fuel.


He went inside and growled deep,
For it made him angry.
"How can all you bastards sleep,
When you leave them hungry?
Soup is but a feeble dish,
I can do much better!
I am here to answer your wish,
Shatter hunger's fetter!"


"Bring me naans and bring me meat,
Bring finest chili sauce!
These people deserve to eat,
And all for free of course!
Kebab Chaos does owe me,
A debt they must repay,
Or blood shall run quite free,
I mean just what I say!"


And so the kebabs came hence,
Answering Ragnar's shout,
It really was quite good sense<,
Else spines he'd have ripped out.
He served food to all who came,
In generous portions.
First the diners cheered his name,
Then came the contortions!


Vomit spewed from every maw,
In torrents unending,
For donners wage bloody war,
And soon guts need mending.
The Niflung cried out in rage,
To see them stripped of honor,
Too late did Ragnar gage,
The power of the donner.
|-| "Terrible Toys for Tots" = Terrible Toys for Tots
On the morning of Christmas,
Telemachus did see,
An orphanage with a tree.


On the morning of Christmas,
The young prince went inside,
To give out gifts,
And some seasonal cheer provide.

On the morning of Christmas,
He brought a bag of toys,
He'd played with,
In younger days,
He hoped might delight little boys.


On the morning of Christmas,
The kids all cheered and yelled,
In young delight,
Filled with joy,
Pleased by the gifts,
And so Telemachus' heart swelled.


On the morning of Christmas,
Orphans began to play,
With toy robots,
Brought by the prince,
That kind boy,
Who beamed at them,
And thought he'd triumphed on that day.


On the morning of Christmas,
Telemachus forgot,
When he was younger,
He did tinker,
With his toys,
And had fun,
Messing with tech,
Till he weaponized them for sport.


On the morning of Christmas,
The toys went quite berserk,
They all starting zapping,
And chasing the kids,
Who ran screaming,
Poor little tikes,
Fleeing fast,
Lest they be zapped,
So the prince, he felt like a jerk.

</tabber>