| Christmas with the Firsts By Wwolfe |
| Disclaimer: Characters and situations related to BUFFY THE VAMPIRE SLAYER are the property of others. No copyright infringement is intended or implied. But it won't matter if you sue, because Wwolfe isn't some kid that'll fold like a house of cards, he's the legal counsel for the DarkSide, the Devil's Mouthpiece, the real lawyer from Hell. So go ahead. Do your worst. If you dare. Bwa Ha Ha! Spoilers: For those who have yet to see Season Seven, this will not contain spoilers so much as it will simply be incomprehensible. That, of course, may also be the reaction of those who *have* seen Season Seven. Archive- Please email request. Feedback- Absolutely. ******************* "Presents! I wanna open presents!" Little Baby First was caterwauling from his high chair, sounding remarkably like a car alarm that no one would turn off. Finally, Ma First gave up, and called the family to the living room, where she began passing out the brightly wrapped gifts from under the tree. Cries of "I got a PlayStation!", "A boombox - cool!", and other exclamations of joy filled the room, only to be replaced - sadly, like every year - with groans of disappointment when the "fun" began. "Mom! Someone turned my Coldplay CD into a crust of stale bread!" "Dad! This isn't a new blouse - it's a rock!" It was all well and good to be able to create illusions, but it certainly played havoc with the Yuletide spirit. Each year, it seemed, no one could resist spoiling the family's gift exchange by playing these mental tricks on one another. It also did serious damage to the local economy, given that none of the Firsts ever managed to actually *buy* a real present from any of the neighborhood stores. Even holiday sales were unable to compete with the ability to create illusionary presents. Not that the mischief stopped with gift "giving." The doorbell rang, and when it was answered, everyone thought they saw Grandma First standing in the doorway, holding her trademark fruitcake. Then the illusion was lifted and they saw that it was a stray cat holding a dead mouse in its teeth. Although more than one family member's thoughts drifted involuntarily to the possibility that the mouse might be preferable to the fruitcake, no humor was found in the situation, since all knew that this joke would be only the initial volley in an onslaught of zaniness that would, by day's end, bring everyone to the brink of mayhem. For the Firsts, the true Spirit of Christmas had at last entered their home. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Dad First stretched back in his recliner, sighing deeply. "It's Miller time," he said, a peaceful smile on his face. As he flipped on the TV with his remote, just catching the opening tip-off of the Lakers-Kings Christmas Day game, he cast a glance out at the rest of his family as they stumbled through the mass illusion he'd cast over all of them. Each year, this was his little Christmas gift to himself, using what he knew to be his far superior gifts of illusion to give himself a pleasant break from the rigors of sharing the joys of the season with his family. As he eyed his younger son bopping his daughter over the head with a Tonka truck, he gave a small, happy belch. "Deck the frickin' halls, baby," he said contentedly, turning his attention back to the game. "Deck the frickin' halls." Main Menu ~ Return to "Other Worlds" Menu |