Succubus Christmas Special Read online

  “Not just any cheese!” the old man enthused. “Zeebusmas cheese, the most wonderfulest cheese in all the world!”

  “…yeaaaaah… okaaaay… and why does he do this?”

  “To celebrate his birthday!” the old man said. “When he was born in a washtub!”

  “With badgers all around,” Stig piped up.

  “And three wise gnomes came to give him presents,” Alaria added.

  I smirked. “What – gold, frankincense, and myrrh?”

  “So you have heard of him!” she said in delight.

  “Let me guess – he was born to a virgin, right?”

  Silence.

  Stig, Alaria, and the old man all stared at me.

  “Don’t be stupid, bitch, that doesn’t happen,” the old man said.

  “You know where babies come from,” Alaria chided me.

  “Yeah,” Stig said, and immediately began fwap-fwap-fwapping with his fingers.

  Oh boy. This was definitely going down in the QC report.

  I was very curious how the hell this part of the story cleared Legal, unless Westek wanted mass protests in rural Mississippi.

  “Okay,” I grumbled, “so there’s Baby Zeebus. What’s he got to do with Sinter Klaws?”

  “Sinter Klaws is jealous of Little Baby Zeebus,” the old man explained, “because Baby Zeebus has his own holy day, and Sinter Klaws does not. So Sinter Klaws is trying to ruin Little Baby Zeebus’s holy day.”

  “With commercialization?” I asked with a grin.

  The old man frowned. “What?”

  “Commercialization. You know, everybody concentrating on getting stuff instead of the true meaning of the season.”

  The entire table stared at me again.

  “No,” the old man said, clearly perturbed.

  “We like stuff,” Stig said.

  “Everybody likes stuff,” Alaria protested.

  The old man slapped his hand down on the table. “Little Baby Zeebus leaves stuff – he leaves the most wonderfulest – ”

  “Cheese in all the world, yeah, got it. So if he’s not commercializing it, what’s Sinter Klaws doing, then?” I suddenly put two and two together. “Wait, you said he created those snowmen out there, right?”

  “Yes!” the old man said.

  “What a dick,” Stig muttered.

  I couldn’t have agreed with him more.

  “And those snowmen are what ruined Zeebusmas?” I asked.

  “No! But dey are why no one dares to go outside drinking and visiting and with good cheer on Zeebusmas. Too scared, too scared.”

  “Then what ruined it?”

  “Sinter Klaws has kidnapped Little Baby Zeebus,” the old man whispered.

  “Haha – talk about a War on Christmas,” I joked. “Fox News is going to LOVE this.”

  They all stared at me again.

  “What is Christmas?” the old man asked.

  “It’s – let’s just say it’s a lot like Zeebusmas.”

  “Is there a flying golden baby named Chris who leaves cheese?”

  “Chris?” I asked, puzzled – then realized he’d heard the word exactly as it was said: Chris-mas, not Christ-mas. “Oh. No, not exactly.”

  “There’s a fox that does news?” Alaria asked, intrigued.

  “No, mostly just conservative white people,” I said, then turned back to the old man. “So let me get this straight: everybody loves Little Baby Zeebus, Sinter Klaws is jealous, so he created a bunch of evil snowmen and kidnapped Little Baby Zeebus to ruin everybody’s Zeebusmas. Did I get that right?”

  “Yes!” the old man agreed.

  I leaned back in my chair and sighed. “Great. Just fuckin’ great.”

  Alaria frowned at me. “What’s wrong?”

  “What’s wrong? What’s wrong is I’ve got to do this damn quest, and I absolutely hate Christmas.”

  “This is Zeebusmas,” Alaria pointed out.

  “Whatever,” I muttered.

  “What is this Christmas you keep speaking of, bitch?” the old man demanded.

  “Stop calling me bitch,” I snapped.

  “Alright,” he said, taken aback. “But what is this Christmas?”

  “It’s a holiday to celebrate the birth of the Christ child, who was born in a manger in a stable, surrounded by cows and donkeys, and he was visited by a bunch of shepherds who heard about his birth from angels, and three wise men came bearing gifts, and basically he was born to save the world.”

  The entire table stared at me again.

  “Sounds fake,” Stig said.

  Alaria nodded. “They totally copied Zeebusmas.”

  “Yeeeeeaaaah, I don’t think so.”

  “Well, we have Zeebusmas, and Little Baby Zeebus needs you!” the old man cried out. “He is the friendly baby, the light of the world, who loves all people and gives free cheese!”

  Suddenly a computer window popped up in front of me.

  ‘Twas the Night Before Zeebusmas…

  Save Little Baby Zeebus from the evil Sinter Klaws!

  20,000 XP

  1 Slice of Zeebusmas Cheese

  You have got to be fucking kidding me.

  The 20,000 experience points were nice, but –

  A slice of Zeebusmas Cheese?!

  That was the fucking reward for this thing?! CHEESE?!

  Not only that, but a slice! Everybody else got a fuckin’ slice FOR FREE!

  I had a good mind to log out right now and tender my resignation.

  Instead, I just cursed under my breath and hit ‘Accept.’

  “You will save Little Baby Zeebus?” the old man asked, tears in his eyes.

  “Yessss,” I grumbled.

  “Oh!” he cried out in joy, and hugged my neck with his bony arms.

  “Simmer down,” I said, gently pushing him off me. “Where the hell do we find Sinter Klaws?”

  “He lives in mountains outside town. Very cold, much snow.”

  “Great,” Alaria muttered.

  I thought for a second, then asked the old man, “You wouldn’t happen to have some warm clothes for my friends, would you?”

  “Yes, yes!” he cried out, and hopped up and ran over to a wardrobe. He pulled out a full-size, fur-trimmed parka for Alaria, and a little one for Stig.

  Ha.

  The Dude abides, and the game provides.

  “Thanks,” I said as he handed them out.

  “You are welcome. They belonged to my daughter and my grandson,” the old man said quietly. “They are not with me anymore.”

  Oh shit.

  Now I felt awful.

  “I, uh… I’m sorry for your loss…”

  “Yes, yes,” he said sadly. “And if you do not save Little Baby Zeebus, they will not get cheese, either.”

  I frowned. “They get cheese in heaven?”

  “What?” the old man said, confused. “No. They live next door.”

  “WHAT?!” I yelled. “You said they were dead!”

  “No I didn’t.”

  “No he didn’t,” Alaria said.

  “He didn’t, boss.”

  “But – you said they weren’t with you anymore!”

  “They are not. They are next door with son-in-law. Took my wife with them. She says I drink too much.” Then he cackled out loud. “Not sorry wife is no longer with me. She was pain in my ass.”

  “Yeah, yeah, good for you,” I grumbled. “Come on, guys, let’s get out of here.”

  “And go rescue Baby Zeebus?” Alaria asked.

  “Yeah. Sure. Why not,” I muttered.

  6

  Alaria had to cut slits in the back of her parka to make her wings fit through, but after that we were good to go.

  We cracked the door of the old man’s house to make sure there were no demonic Frosty the Snowmen patrolling the streets.

  Nope. Deserted.

  “Sinter Klaws is that way,” the old man told us as he pointed down the street. “Out village, past forest, towards big mountain.”
>
  “Thanks.”

  “Good luck, young man, pretty lady, and ugly baby!” the old man said.

  “Thanksh for the wine,” Stig slurred.

  Must’ve been some potent stuff for just one bottle to make him buzzed.

  “Come back later, ugly baby, we drink more!”

  Alaria gave the old coot a kiss on the cheek.

  “Wowie!” the old man whooped. “Now can die happy!”

  “Don’t do that,” Alaria said with a smile. “Not until we free Baby Zeebus.”

  “Yes, yes,” the old man said, his eyes filling up with tears. “Please, please save Baby Zeebus.”

  “Yeah, yeah, okay, okay,” I grumbled and pulled Alaria away. “We gotta go now. Bye.”

  We hustled down the icy streets in the direction the old man had told us. I was feeling the bite of the cold air, though at least Alaria and Stig had parkas now.

  Stig looked like baby Maggie from the Simpsons, and fell down on his face just as often as she did. It was just like that time we dressed Stig up like a real baby and –

  …long story. Nevermind.

  “Ian,” Alaria whispered as we ran past shuttered houses and pubs, “why do you hate Zeebusmas so much?”

  “I don’t. I hate Christmas.”

  “The fake holiday you spoke of?”

  That was pretty funny, a videogame character in a videogame world on a videogame holiday telling me that Christmas was fake.

  “It’s not fake.”

  “Oh, come on,” she scoffed. “Everyone knows virgins don’t have babies.”

  Stig nodded. “Yeah, boss, they gotta – ”

  fwap-fwap-fwap-fwap

  “ – to get a baby.”

  Of course, by keeping his arms occupied, Stig lost his balance and faceplanted in the snow.

  Ha! Instant Judgment Day.

  Guess Jesus wasn’t too happy with Stig disparaging His ma.

  “Yeah, well, in this story, they do,” I insisted.

  Alaria smiled in delight. “You mean the virgins – ?”

  And she made the OK symbol and violated it repeatedly.

  fwap-fwap-fwap-fwap

  “NO!” I hissed. “I mean, they do have babies without – without that!”

  Alaria shuddered. “You come from a very scary place if virgins can suddenly get pregnant with deities’ offspring without even getting any fun out of it.”

  Alaria had a thing about having babies, which is why she was reacting so strongly.

  On the other hand, that probably would be a pretty scary world for teenage girls. One second you’re scrolling through Instagram, next you’re preggers from some invisible dude in the sky…

  “Is that why you hate Christmas?” Alaria asked. “Because it is a scary time for young women?”

  “NO!” I snapped. “Besides, the virgin birth only happened once!”

  “Once?!”

  “Yeah.”

  “Oh – so it’s not so scary after all!” she said, relieved. “So why do you hate Christmas?”

  I wasn’t about to get into a big therapy session about it while I was running through icy streets, trying to evade evil snowmen.

  “Let’s just say I agree with what Ebenezer Scrooge used to say before he went soft,” I smirked. “Bah, humbug!”

  “Ebenezer Scrooge?” Alaria asked, confused again. “Is he a mage?”

  “No. Just a crotchety, rich old man.”

  “What did he do with his crotch?”

  “What?! NO! ‘Crotchety’ – it means – ”

  “Hump bug,” Stig offered, then grabbed an invisible ass in both hands and began to pump his parka’d pelvis into it.

  He was air humping a bug, I guess.

  “WHAT?! NO! I said humbug!”

  “Hump bug, hump bug, hump bug,” Stig chanted as he kept thrusting his hips into the invisible ass in front of him.

  “STOP THAT!”

  “He humped a BUG?” Alaria asked, her nose wrinkled up in distaste. “Is that why you hate Christmas? Because Ebenezer Scrooge humps bugs?”

  “NO! SHUT UP! BOTH OF YOU!”

  We reached the end of town and passed from the cobblestone streets into vast fields of white. The snow was so deep here that I had to pick up Stig and carry him.

  We must have looked like an effed-up version of the holy family: gamer-dude Joseph, a sex demoness instead of Mary, and the ugliest baby Jesus you’ve ever seen.

  Haha – there were even evil snowmen looking for us, like Herod’s soldiers killing all the infant males.

  We’d even been warned by a dopey old man instead of three kings.

  Except we were walking through waist-high snow in parkas instead of fleeing for Egypt.

  And we were going to track down a –

  Fuck it. The metaphor broke down a hell of a long time ago.

  Plus, I’d run out of Sunday School details back from when I was seven.

  We continued on through the snow until we were on a ridge looking down over a frozen field, the edge of a pine forest, and –

  Reindeer?!

  Swear to god, that’s what they were – a herd of shaggy deer with massive antlers, congregated around one figure in particular:

  A tall, stooped, midnight-blue figure in a hobo Santa suit.

  “That’s him!” I whispered.

  I dropped down to my knees behind a rock. Poor Stig tried to do the same, but totally got submerged beneath the snow.

  “Mmph,” he grunted.

  I pulled him out so he could breathe.

  Alaria crouched down beside me. “That’s the dick?”

  “That’s the dick,” I confirmed.

  “Dick,” Stig grunted disparagingly.

  To be honest, though, he didn’t look like a dick from here. I mean, he was feeding reindeer in the moonlight. They were actually eating out of his hand.

  What kind of an evil monster feeds reindeer out of his hand?!

  He was more like Dr. Doolittle or something.

  But the videogame confirmed it with a quest window.

  Deck The Dick With Balls of Fire!

  I swear to God, sometimes the game actually listened to my conversations and created quest titles out of them.

  Kill Sinter Klaws!

  XP: 10,000

  Shit – still no gold.

  Just a crappy Christmas quest.

  …Zeebusmas quest.

  Whatever.

  I hit ‘Accept.’

  “Should we kill him now?” Alaria whispered.

  I selected the shadowy figure and brought up his videogame stats.

  Sinter Klaws

  Hit Points: 50,000

  That was kind of a lot of hit points for just the three of us… although we should be able to take him. Maybe even right here, right now.

  However, I also had a far more important quest, one with 20,000 XP on the line.

  I then said words I would have never anticipated coming out of my mouth when I got out of bed that morning.

  “No, we have to go save the flying baby first. So let’s just – ”

  “You mean Zeebus,” Alaria interrupted.

  “Yeah, him. So let’s – ”

  “Why won’t you say his name, boss?” Stig asked.

  “Because it’s stupid.”

  Alaria gasped. “That’s not nice!”

  Do you know how hard it is to offend a sex demoness who routinely engages in orgies and uses her tail as a dildo?

  “Give me a break,” I said bitterly. “It’s a flyin’ fuckin’ baby.”

  Alaria gasped again.

  “Don’t be a bitch, boss,” Stig croaked. “Say his name.”

  “WHAT did you just say to me?!”

  “I said, ‘Say his name, bitch.’”

  “Don’t call me a bitch,” I warned.

  “What’s his name, bitch?” Stig rasped. “Say his name, bitch, say his name!”

  It was like hearing a drunk, chain-smoking Kermit the Frog doing Miss Piggy doggy-style, slapping
that ham-hock ass with his green felt hand as he yelled, Who’s your froggy? Who’s your froggy?

  I could just hear Miss Piggy yelling, Oh Kermie – oh Kermie!

  “Say his name, bitch, say his name!”

  “I told you not to call me a bitch!”

  Stig gave me a mischievous grin like a naughty toddler saying a dirty word. “Biiiiiiiiiitch…”

  I got right up in his face and snapped, “Call me a bitch ONE MORE TIME.”

  Stig was silent.

  I looked at him.

  He looked at me.

  Silence.

  I turned away to look at Sinter again –

  “Biiiiiii – ”

  I slapped a hand on the back of Stig’s head and dunked him face-down in the snow for about ten seconds.

  I could still hear him saying it in a muffled voice: “Mmmmmmmmtch!”

  “What are you doing?” Alaria demanded.

  “Putting a dog’s nose in his own pile of crap. Why, you got a problem with that?”

  “No,” she said, and shrugged. “Just curious.”

  When I pulled Stig back up, his entire face and parka were dusted with white.

  “You got something to say to me?” I asked.

  He eyed me warily. “…yeah…”

  “What?”

  “Biiiiiiiiiitch!” he said gleefully.

  “Oh, it’s ON, now,” I said, then dunked him under for another 20 seconds.

  When I brought him back up again, Stig looked like one of the evil snowmen, he was so encrusted with snow.

  “You gonna keep sayin’ it?” I asked him.

  “N-n-n-n-no,” he chattered.

  “That wasn’t very nice of you to call me a bitch, now was it?”

  “N-n-n-n-no,” he said, though he shook his head ‘yes.’

  That was what Stig did when he was hiding his true feelings. He would say ‘no’ but shake his head ‘yes,’ or vice versa.

  Ohhhhh. So THAT’s how it is.

  It wasn’t very nice of me, but I couldn’t help myself.

  “What’s my name, bitch?” I asked with a grin.

  “B-b-b-bos-sh.”

  Not ‘boss’ – bos-sh.

  Which was impish for ‘asshole.’

  Actually, ‘dirty anus,’ if you wanted to get technical about it.

  He’d told me that back when we were in a filthy Orcish bar about to go rescue Alaria from a pirate ship –

  …long story. Some other time.