I said it was coming! Here it is. System:Reboot's completely NOT canon Christmas Episode.
It's just for fun, really. I had a lot of fun writing it, and I hope you guys enjoy reading it!
...
A Christmas Root Vegetable
It was the night before Christmas, and all through the ship, not a pokemon was stirring, not even a hoppip.
“Wait.” Matrix blinked and looked up from his computer. “We don’t even have a hoppip on board.”
He deleted everything he’d written and resigned himself to start again. It didn’t help that he didn’t even know what a ‘Christmas’ was, he was merely going off everything Switch had told them.
The human huddled in a corner and blinked at Macro and his crew. “So you don’t celebrate Christmas in System anymore?”
“You mean we did?” The surprised note in Macro’s voice didn’t fall on deaf ears.
Switch nodded slowly, not taking his golden eyes off the mawile. “For years. You were still celebrating it before I got sucked out of my own time line, at least. Did it really just die out like that?”
DL scratched behind her ear and made a thoughtful noise. “There’s no records of it in my database, either.”
Switch let his head fall into his hands and groaned. “Then I guess I’ve got a lot to teach you.”
Matrix sat back in his seat and stared at the open text document, still completely blank. Why on earth he’d decided to re-write the poem Switch had told them he’d no idea. He wasn’t exactly the best poet. Instead, he leant forwards and decided to take things in a different direction.
“This should be fun,” he muttered.
…
It was early.
Macro didn’t do early.
He dragged himself from his room, rubbing sleep from his violet eyes.
Too early.
He warred with the urge to go back to bed, but a sweet smell drifted down the corridor, drowning the idea in sugar and syrup. Lured by the delicious scent, he trudged towards the kitchen, adjusting his goggles as he went. His mind fixated on what sweet delights Cookie had whipped together to wake him up and prepare him for the day. They still had more disks to find for DL, and there was still the ordeal of a human on his ship. A human mourning the absence of Christmas in System. A human who had made Macro very late to bed because he’d been struggling to string up items he’d substituted for Christmas decorations.
One such intrusive obstacle smacked him over the head as he passed under it. A dangly branch of green leaves and maranga berries. Overripe maranga berries, since it was all Cookie was willing to spare. One of them struck Macro over the goggles and split, coating him with thick, sticky, sweet juice. White blobs dripped down his muzzle and slimed their way over his scarf and fur, leaving gloopy trails in their wake.
He cursed under his breath and beat them off to the floor, but they merely squished under his paw and congealed between his pads and claws. He cringed and resigned himself to licking them off, grimacing at the taste.
Certainly overripe. They left a sour aftertaste.
He took a step forward, placing his right foot right into the gloopy mess and it shot right out from under him. He slid like a rocket down the corridor, flailing his arms behind him. Cookie rounded the corner, clutching a paper bag in both paws. The slurpuff’s eyes widened and he span, shifting the heavy bag to one paw and raising the other in a desperate bid to stop the sliding pirate. Cookie’s mouth opened and closed, but no words came out. Or if they did, they were lost on Macro.
The two collided, rolling tail over head over tail over paper bag into the opposite wall. The bag exploded, throwing brown, grainy vegetables into the air. They rained down on them, long green sprouts protruding from their bodies. Macro opened his eyes wide. He had no time to raise his paws to defend himself. One of the vegetables struck him right between the eyes, dazzling him and making everything go black.
The last thing he thought as he crumpled to the floor was, ‘
What a morning.’
...
When Macro opened his eyes, he was back in his bed. Memories came back to him like a jigsaw. One that started from the middle as the impatient individual assembling it scrambled to fill it out before first finding all the edge pieces.
A brown bag. Vegetables. Cookie. Slimy maranga fruit.
Christmas.
He groaned and placed a paw over his face. Maybe he’d dreamt it.
Splurp
Nope.
He lifted his paw and discarded the squashed maranga innards across his room.
“Ew! What…”
The feminine voice took Macro quite by surprise and he sat bolt upright, tugging the duvet up to his chest. He looked around to see DL sat in a chair beside his bed, peeling the discarded maranga slime off her cheek.
“Excuse me,” she said. “I didn’t realise I was in your way.”
“What are you doing in my room?” he squeaked. “Girls aren’t allowed in my room.”
“I know,” she said. “You keep saying.”
“Then why are you in my room?”
DL smiled and leant back in her seat. “I’m on a valiant quest.”
Macro blinked a few times. That wasn’t something he ever expected her to say. Maybe she was malfunctioning?
“Pardon?” he said.
“A valiant quest,” she said. “I’ve been sent by the masters of Time and Space.”
Then she held something up in both paws. Something brown sprouting long green shoots. Something that Cookie had quite blatantly told Macro the day before had been forming a jungle in his vegetable cupboard.
“DL,” Macro said slowly. “Is there a reason you’re holding an onion?”
“It’s not just any onion,” she said. “It is a Time Onion.”
“Okay.” Macro tugged the duvet back up to his chest and lay back down slowly. “Clearly I have a concussion. Please leave and check on me again in an hour. Make sure I’ve not choked on my tongue or something.”
“No, I cannot allow that,” said DL. “We have to go now.”
“What?” He twisted his head around to fix his violet eyes on hers. “Go where?”
“The past.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“This onion wants me to take you back to the past,” she said.
“Why on earth does a freaking onion want you to send me back to the past?!”
“Because it’s not just an ordinary onion,” she said, matter-of-factly. “It’s the Root of Christmas Past.”
That was it. He’d had enough. He rolled over, turning his back on her, and screwed his eyes shut, willing himself to sleep. Or to wake up. Whichever one came first.
The duvet was ripped from him and a loud scream exploded from his throat. He raised both paws to his chest and stared up at DL’s oddly emotionless face. Then his eyes went to the onion, sitting in one of her paws. The other paw was still clutching his sheet.
“Get up,” she said. “We’re leaving.”
Yep, that cinched it. She’d gone mad. He swallowed drily and pushed himself up, nodding slowly. He could fight off a hoard of fighting pokemon, single-handedly defeat the most feared space pirate in all of system, throw himself off a building to escape capture. But facing a woman afflicted with onion insanity? No thank you.
A smile curled her lips and she stood back from him, retreating to the centre of the room. She held out a paw to him.
“Take my paw,” she said.
He took it.
“Now touch the Root of Christmas Past.”
He looked around the room and tentatively lifted his paw to the old onion, which he was sure was beginning to rot.
“If I find out there are any cameras in here,” he muttered, “I’m gonna find out who set up this prank and shove this onion where the sun don’t shine.”
His paw fell on the onion, its skin crumbling beneath his pads. Then the room warped and wobbled, almost throwing him off his feet. If it weren’t for the sudden distortion, he’d think they’d just plowed straight through a trash belt.
“What on earth?!” he roared.
“Give it a minute,” said DL. “It’s a pretty old onion. I think it’s out of practice.”
The ship vanished from around them, and cold ground appeared beneath his feet. Cold and wet. And… was that grass?
No. There was no grass on System Ground, it was all fake.
The world solidified and he stood in the centre of a city with DL, his paw still resting on the old vegetable.
“Where are we?” he asked, then snatched his paw back to his side. He wiped it subtly on his scarf, then regretted it. His scarf now smelled of overripe maranga and ancient onion.
“This is Seed City,” said DL. “I think the Root of Christmas Past wants to show you something.”
“What could an old onion possibly wish to show me?” he asked, sarcastically.
“I don’t know.” DL turned her head to look at him. “Maybe you need to learn something?”
“From an onion?” Macro blinked once. “Okay…”
DL moved away from him through the city and he followed after her, folding his arms over his scarf. This had to be a dream. Onions didn’t time travel. Although he’d been fairly certain humans didn’t exist, let alone time travel, right before they’d picked up Switch so… what did he know?
A long shadow fell over him and he looked up into the bored face of a florges. The large fairy pokemon hadn’t seemed to notice him and almost stood right on top of him. He leapt to the side, his face contorting with fury.
“Do you mind? Watch where you’re feakin’ goin’!” he barked.
The florges didn’t even look his way.
He muttered under his breath and turned to follow DL, but a young snubbull on a skateboard rocketed towards him. The wheels rattled over the uneven road and Macro had to duck and dive to avoid being mowed down.
Macro turned his head to watch the small fairy pokemon perform a kickflip, retract the wheels under the skateboard, and take off into the air as they span over a low building.
“They can’t see you.”
Macro yelped and looked up at DL.
“This is just an image of the past,” she explained. “Come on. It’s this way.”
Macro followed her closely through the busy streets. Fairy type pokemon moved back and forth, carrying overladen shopping bags. Fresh snow fell slowly and dusted the ground where it was trampled into oblivion, but on the faux grass it quickly formed thick layers.
“I only recall it snowing in System once,” said Macro. “Leaves a bad taste in my mouth.”
“Then don’t eat it,” said DL.
“I wasn’t talking about eating it,” he snapped. “I meant the memory.”
“Oh.” DL shrugged. “I can’t suggest an alternative to that.”
Macro muttered something profane and tucked his paws under his scarf. Snowflakes formed around his shoulders and soaked through any exposed fur, biting him with cold. If the pokemon around them couldn’t see them, then why was the snow still freezing him? And why did it make him feel… wretched?
DL stopped beside a detached house and peered through the window. Frost peppered it with its fancy webs and snow piled up on the windowsill.
“I think this is the place,” she said.
Macro leant over her shoulder and looked inside. Sat by the fake fireplace was a pair of mawile. The older one’s fur was turning grey around her ears, and she fussed over her child. But he was too preoccupied with drawing something with a set of combee wax crayons. Closer inspection revealed it to be a sky ship.
“That’s my mother.” He nodded towards the older mawile, eyes fixed on the brown stripes across her back. “I remember this day. She was asking me to go out and gather something for dinner. She’d been wanting sitrus berries, but I didn’t want to go.”
“Why not?” DL asked.
Macro shrugged. “I dunno. I just wanted to play. I was drawing air ships, fantasizing about being a space pirate. I was pretty obsessed as a kid. I wanted to get off System Ground, take my mother with me. She was always tired, and I got fed up with it. She always wanted me to do things, and I was only eight.” He paused and took a deep breath as he watched the older mawile leave the room. “She’s going to bed now. Poor little guy has no idea that when he goes upstairs later to ask about dinner, he can’t even wake her.”
DL’s face fell and she looked down at the aged vegetable. “I don’t know why this Time Onion wants to show you that.”
Macro turned his back on the window and shrugged again. “I dunno. Maybe ‘cos it’s the day I became a space pirate?”
“Really?” DL sounded a little surprised. “You became a space pirate on Christmas Day?”
“I guess, yeh. I was a rather lousy son.” Macro sighed and shook his head, looking back at the small mawile still scribbling away. “Wouldn’t even go to the shop for my sick mother.”
The little child melted away as the ground wobbled and warped once more, and Macro and DL found themselves standing in the sands of Raster Town.
Macro wasn’t expecting the sudden change in temperature. Heat rushed over him and he tore his scarf free before dizziness consumed him.
“At least give me some warning!” he snapped at the pachirisu.
She pointed to the onion in her paw then shrugged.
A group of pokemon trudged out of Raster Town. A throh, servine, buneary, and a mini Macro almost drowned in a black scarf. The throh was carrying a large leather bag and grinning widely.
“Well, you certainly proved yourself.” He smiled down at the young Macro. “Guess you passed your initiation. Here.” The fighting type reached into the bag and tossed a pair of goggles to Macro. “Now you look the part.”
“Initiation? What went on in there?” DL asked.
Macro cleared his throat and looked away from her. “We had to beat on some guys. Looted one of the few shops that still provided weapons in Raster Town.”
“So that’s where you got your goggles?” she asked. “From some heist?”
“Not quite. My old Captain already had them,” said Macro. “I’d wanted a pair, you see. So he gave me his old ones after we finished up in there. They’re a bit… sentimental, I guess.”
The ground vanished around them and Macro found himself back in his bedroom. His paws felt warm and he looked around to find himself clutching DL. He diverted his gaze and released her, taking a step back towards his bed.
“Listen, DL,” he said. “I dunno what just went on, but I’m pretty concussed and I wanna go back to bed.”
“Okay, go back to bed.” She turned towards the door and it slid open. “But be warned that the Root of Christmas Past isn’t the only onion set to visit you this evening.”
Macro’s eyes flew wide open and he span to face DL. “What?”
“Good night.”
“It isn’t night!” Macro barked.
DL nodded and the door slid shut behind her.
...
Macro lay dozing in his bed, his back propped against the wall with a pillow. His laser lay beside him, loosely clasped in his paw.
“Oi, Macro.”
His eyes snapped open and a squeak left his throat. Staring down at him was the large face of Switch, his golden eyes reflecting the dim light.
“You know you shouldn’t sleep with a concussion?” the human asked.
Macro sat up and groaned as pounding radiated through his skull. How much damage had that falling onion done? His claws touched a soft spot between his eyes and he flinched back from it. Great, there was a bump.
“What time is it?” he asked Switch.
“Midnight,” replied the human.
Macro looked up at him with a start. “How long have I been out?”
Switch shrugged. “Cookie said he saw you this morning, so I’d guess all day.”
Macro shook his head and kicked his sheets away. “I had the weirdest dream.”
“Oh?”
“Yeh. DL came in here and she was all weird, going on about time traveling onions. Then she took me back in time and showed me my mother, and the day I became a space pirate. Like… what was all that about?”
He looked around at Switch, expecting a reply, but instead Macro’s heart sank like a lead brick. Switch stood beside his bed with one hand on his hip, and in the other was a flippin’ onion.
“No… no, please, no,” said Macro. “Don’t you dare tell me that’s a time traveling onion!”
“What, this?” Switch looked down at it, then back up at Macro. “No, this isn’t a time traveling onion.”
Macro let out a long sigh and closed his eyes. “Thank goodness.”
“This is the Root of Christmas Present.”
Macro’s eyes snapped back open and flew towards the human. Switch stared back at him then nodded to the door.
“Come on. It wants to show you something.”
Macro shook his head and kicked his legs over the edge of the bed. "Whatever. I’m losing all hope in my sanity anyway.”
Macro strolled after him into the corridor, which was oddly dark. For a brief moment, Macro thought he might have been dreaming, but seeing Switch march into the shadows, still clutching the onion, swept that thought right back under the rug. With a sigh, he followed after the human. He paused as something swung before his face, and he ducked, chuckling at his victory over the sneaky maranga berries.
A faint light trickled out of the cockpit. Anchor sat in his usual seat, steering Wildcard Gamma through a pitch black System Sky. Not a city in sight. Matrix snored from the navigation deck, oblivious to the small red dot that was trailing after them like a mareep after its mother.
A soft yawn came from behind Macro and he leapt slightly, stepping aside as he saw DL walking towards them. He didn’t move fast enough and expected her to crash into him, but she slipped right through him like smoke.
“Can’t sleep?” Anchor asked.
“No.” She fell into Macro’s seat, shuffling as far into the arm as she could. “I rarely sleep well, to be honest.”
Anchor raised an eyebrow. “I find that surprising. You’re always so perky.”
The pachirisu shrugged and leant back into the seat. “I think it has something to do with these memories. If I do sleep, I rarely dream.”
“Well. If I were you, I’d head back to bed.” Anchor turned back to the controls. “Nothin’ to see here. Just blackness. If I knew any better, I’d say we were lost.”
“You could always wake Matrix and ask?” DL looked back at the sleeping ribombee.
“I ain’t wakin’ him. I don’t wanna get bit.”
“What about Macro?” she asked.
“Again. I don’t wanna get bit.” Anchor looked over at her and chuckled dryly. “Besides. You really think he cares where we end up? Guy’s about as fun lovin’ as a kakuna.”
“I disagree.” Matrix looked up groggily. “I’ve met some pretty fun kakuna.” He slumped back onto the deck and recommenced snoring.
“Hnh.” Anchor shrugged and returned to steering the ship. “Less fun lovin' than a kakuna then. I wouldn’t be surprised if he were the reason you couldn’t sleep, DL. After what he said earlier, the ship’s been feelin’ pretty dank.”
DL shuddered and hugged herself, sinking further into the seat. “Maybe. It has been hovering over me.”
“Think it’s hoverin’ over all of us,” said Anchor. “Poor Switch went to bed in tears.”
Macro jolted and looked up at the human, but his face was blank and emotionless.
“He just doesn’t want anything to do with Christmas,” said DL. “I thought it sounded like fun, and I really enjoyed stringing up the decorations before he exploded like that.”
“He didn’t have to go out like that, though,” said Anchor. “But to be honest, I’m not surprised. He’s a right bitter one. Always has been. Dunno why I bother stickin’ around sometimes.”
“I thought you were friends?” DL asked.
Anchor shrugged again. “Thought we were. But he’s shown his true colours.”
A flood of nausea drifted through Macro and he staggered back. It was made all the worse as the room wobbled and warped, and he found himself back in his room, still staggering backwards. He landed softly on his bed, where he stared at the far wall. He looked up at Switch and the human stared down at him and smiled.
“Pretty insightful, huh?” he asked.
“What on earth was that?” Macro spat.
“That was Christmas,” Switch explained. “Or what has become Christmas after your little fandango.”
“I’ve never heard Anchor talk like that.”
“Of course. He’s not exactly gonna say all that to your face, is he?” Switch shrugged. “I guess everyone’s pretty fed up with you right now.”
Macro frowned and flashed his canines. “What trick are you tryin’ to pull?”
“I dunno.” Switch scratched behind his ear and looked over at the wall. “I’m not pulling a trick. Ordinarily I would have liked to show you Christmas festivities, but that would involve traversing time and space to get back to my world. And this is a Time Onion, not a Dimensional Garlic.”
Macro’s jaw dropped. If it weren’t for DL walking right through him, he’d think this was all some elaborate prank. So he was sticking with ‘bad dream’. He desperately wished for Switch and that wretched onion to vanish.
Switch winked at him and turned towards the door. “Someone else will be with you shortly. Maybe they will give you some better insight into the Christmas spirit?”
Macro watched the human vanish right through the door. Without opening it.
He rubbed a paw over his forehead and leant back against his pillow. He felt wretched. Sick. Dizzy. And all he could smell was maranga fruit.
...
Someone cleared their throat all too loudly. Rude.
Macro snapped his eye open and looked over his shoulder. Someone stood in his room, yawning widely. They looked very similar to Switch, but female. Long black hair trailed over their shoulders, almost blending with their black waistcoat. A white shirt stood out from the dark fabric, finished with loose trousers hanging over a pair of heavy, black boots. She fixed her green eyes on Macro’s violet ones and shrugged one shoulder.
“You gettin’ up then? I ain’t got all night, yanno.”
Macro sat up and his nose twitched. Why did she smell like a skuntank?
“Who are you?” he asked. “And how did you get onto my ship?”
“Name’s Annie,” she said. “And this brought me here.”
She flicked her left hand and launched an onion into the air. She caught it in her right one, then juggled the sprouting vegetable back and forth.
Macro let out a groan and his head fell into his paws. “Why? What do you want with me?!”
“I don’t want anything to do with you,” said Annie. “Nor do I want anything from you, either. In fact, I don’t even have a clue where I am. I feel like this isn’t my plot, you see. That I’ve been dragged in here for nothing more than…” She trailed off and looked over at his wall. “Dark blue? Seriously? Why couldn’t you paint your room a brighter colour? Dark colours in a bedroom aren’t great for your mental health, I have you know. And neither’s white. I’m sick of seeing it.” She steadied the onion in one hand then pointed at the door. “You coming?”
“You haven’t told me why you’re here.” He fixed her in a leer.
Annie blinked, then held up the onion. “This is the Root of Christmas Yet to Come.”
Macro rolled his eyes and groaned. “Seriously?”
“Maybe. Guess we’ll see. Now get a wiggle on.” She marched out of the door, pausing only to open it first.
Macro shrugged and slid from his bed. “Go on. What have I got to lose?”
“I already did the thing,” she said. “I had no patience, so I wobbled time before you woke up.”
“Eh?”
Annie led him out into the corridor, and immediately the sounds of singing reached his ears. Macro froze and looked up and down the corridor. Something was off, and it wasn’t just the singing.
The walls were decked out with sparky tinsel and delicate rows of maranga berries. Spiky leaves protruded out from the tinsel at even intervals, and smelled unlike the leaves Macro was familiar with. They smelled real, for one thing.
He hugged his scarf about himself, still sticky from his collision with the overripe fruit, and followed Annie into the cockpit. Something brushed against his horn and he let out a shrill shriek and looked up sharply. The singing continued jovially, but above him swung a garland of paper rings that had managed to come unstuck from the ceiling at one end.
Annie looked down at him and shook her head. “Needs more glue.”
Macro whisked his paw over his head and desperately tried to regain his composure. But he had to resign himself to the fact that that wasn’t going to happen anytime soon. His eyes wandered around his cockpit, which didn’t look anything like the cockpit he knew and loved. It looked like a tinsel factory had exploded, and thrown a few sparkly balls into the mix. Anchor sat at the ship’s controls, feet on the dashboard, draped in fluffy garments and tinsel. Switch squatted at his side, nodding along and whistling through his beak to the music. Matrix buzzed about trying to stick decorations to the ceiling, and he made his way over to Macro and grabbed the loose end of the paper garland, lifting it well above the mawile’s head.
DL sat in Macro’s seat, leaving no room for him. She either didn’t expect him to join them or didn’t rightly care. She was one of the sources of the singing. Cookie was the other, busying himself around a small table that had been dragged in from goodness knows where, and laden with so many cakes and sweets it was surprising it hadn’t buckled beneath the weight. The brown slurpuff joined in with the singing, and every so often Anchor leapt in with a deep repetition of whatever the two had sang.
Music blared from the navigation deck, and Macro’s eye wandered over to it. No navigation system was loaded. Just a video streaming site playing through some jolly musical play list.
“What on earth’s going on?” Macro finally ventured to ask.
Annie shrugged with one hand and scratched her chin with the onion’s stalk. “It’s a Christmas party.”
“But we don’t hold Christmas parties,” said Macro.
“Well, you apparently do in the Christmas Yet to Come.”
Macro glared up at her. “You sassin’ me?”
“Oi.” Annie put a hand - and the onion - on her hip and pointed a delicate finger at him. “Watch how you talk to me. I’m a lot bigger than you.”
As though to contradict her point, her form shrank right down and feathered out. If Switch hadn’t performed a similar maneuver, Macro would have been more surprised. But since he wasn’t expecting it, a squeak still left his throat and he took a step back.
But he was still looking up at her. She just had a lot of sharp teeth this time, fixed in a reptilian mouth.
“You’re just like Switch!” he gasped. “But… why an archeops?”
Annie looked down at herself as if for the first time and let out a ‘huh’. “Guess I forgot to take my pills.”
She turned back to the crew of Wildcard Gamma and tossed the onion absently up and down in her wing claws.
“Why do you think the Time Onion wants to show you this?” she asked. Then she muttered, “Can’t get me back to my own time-line though, can it?”
Macro sighed and leant back against the wall. He folded his arms over his scarf and watched the odd events unfold.
The music stopped and Matrix buzzed back over to it to set it back off again. Switch cheered and raised a glass in his talons.
“Here’s to our third Christmas,” said Anchor, raising his own glass. “They just get better every year.”
“Here, here.” Switch tipped his glass back and downed the lot.
“Easy!” Anchor gasped. “It ain’t juice.”
“Oh.” Switch wiped his beak with his wing and flushed a little. “I thought it was.”
Cookie chuckled and waddled over to them, carrying a tray. “I can get you some juice if you like. Would you like a fruit pie?”
“Ooh!” DL leant across the arm of her seat and reached for one. “Which ones are cherri?”
“Oh! Sorry, Captain.” Cookie turned to her and his smile melted away.
“Captain?” Macro kicked himself back from the wall. His heart was racing. What was going on?
“I only made mixed fruit,” Cookie explained. “I was trying something new, you see-”
DL waved him off with a paw. “It’s fine, don’t worry about it.” Her lips curled into a warm smile. “Which one do you recommend?”
Cookie relaxed and his smile returned to his face. His tongue poked out between his lips and he practically bounced with joy.
“Oran and mago!” He plucked one from the tray and handed it to her. “I even spiced it with occa berries.”
“Thank you, Cookie.” DL held it gently and took a huge bite. Her face lit up and her tail drooped over the arm of her chair. “It’s amazing!”
Cookie let out a deep sigh and swiped his paw over his brow. “I tell you now, two years ago I would have been skinned alive if I forgot to make Macro’s favourite pies.”
“Don’t need to worry about that anymore,” said Anchor. “DL’s much less of a tyrant.”
DL sank in her seat and lowered her pie to her lap. “I still feel responsible, though.”
“Don’t.” Anchor waved a paw. “Was his own stinkin’ fault. He didn’t have to march off like that.”
“Yeah.” Matrix caught the garland as it fell once more from the ceiling. “He practically walked straight into Socket’s waiting paws.”
“Put it this way,” said Anchor. “If he’d just celebrated with us rather than being… how did you word it again, Switch?”
Switch lowered his drink and looked back at him. “A Scrooge.”
“Yeah, if he hadn’t been such a Scrooge, it would’ve been a lot easier.” Anchor spread his paws. “No one would’ve got hurt, we’d all still be friends, and Macro would still be alive.”
Macro hugged himself tightly and fell back against the wall. The room warped and turned to butter, and he fell back through the wall and heavily onto his bed. The wind was knocked out of his lungs and he sat up, gasping.
Annie stood in the middle of his room, tossing the onion back and forth between her hands.
“Harsh stuff,” she said. “Kinda gives me chills. Wouldn’t wanna be you right now.”
Macro choked back a sob and looked away from her. “I don’t wanna be me right now.”
“Well, I guess you’ve got something to think about.” A look of confusion spread across her face and she looked over his shoulder at the wall. “I wish I knew what it was.”
She vanished as though someone had switched her off, leaving Macro feeling cold and alone. His eyes felt heavy, and he slumped onto his bed with a deep groan.
His head was pounding, and with each pulse he felt like he was going to be sick.
...
“Is he okay?”
The voice sounded like Anchor’s.
“I dunno,” came Cookie’s worried tones. “I was just walking and-”
Macro’s eyes fluttered open, revealing the concerned faces of Anchor, DL and Cookie. The slurpuff let out a sigh and a smile split his face.
“Thank goodness!” he cried.
“What?” Macro rubbed his head, feeling the bump between his eyes, and pushed himself up. “I’m not in my bed?”
Something rolled off him, hitting the floor in a series of thumps. He lowered his paw and looked down. Overgrown onions rolled away from him, their long sprouts slapping the bare floor.
Macro leapt up with a yell and threw himself between Anchor and DL, staggering down the corridor.
“Get them away from me!” he cried.
“Cap’n!” Anchor stood and turned to face him. “What on earth’s the matter with you?”
Macro looked from the onions to Anchor and back. “What day is it?”
The granbull scratched his cheek and raised an eyebrow. “December twenty fourth.”
Macro’s arms flopped to his sides and his jaw went slack.
“Is there a problem, Cap’n?” Anchor stood up and raised a paw. “Have you got a concussion.”
Macro snapped his mouth shut and shook his head. “No. Just a headache. I’m fine. Oi, Switch!”
Switch’s talonflame head popped around the cockpit door. “Yes?”
“You said you humans dress up trees at Christmas, right? Well, there ain’t no trees in System.”
“You can’t buy a fake one?” Switch asked.
“Nope,” said Macro. “Any other suggestions?”
Switch looked up at the ceiling in thought.
Matrix’s small head appeared above him. “How about a standing lamp?”
Macro snapped his claws. “Perfect! We’ll buy one!” He turned and rushed towards his bedroom. “Matrix, get making some paper garlands. Oh!” He paused and span on the spot. “And Cookie, you and DL get making the best cake ever! We’re gonna blow the roof off this ship!”
“I hope you don’t mean literally!” Cookie called after him. After Macro had vanished into his room, Cookie beamed. “Well, I’m not going to say no to making a cake.”
The rest of Wildcard Gamma exchanged worried glances.
“Do you think Macro’s sick?” DL asked.
Anchor grunted and glanced after the mawile. “I hope not. ‘Cos I kinda like him like this. Yet at the same time…”
“It’s creepy,” said Matrix.
Anchor chuckled and tucked his paws behind his back. “At least he seems more eager than he did last night.”
“Yeh.” DL stooped to gather up the onions. “I guess he’s had some Christmas joy knocked into him.”
~End~
…
Matrix sat back and folded his paws behind his head as he read over his text document. All finished and ready to be released to the world.
Hopefully Switch wouldn’t mind that he’d completely butchered one of his Christmas stories.
The ribombee yawned and fluttered into the air. It had been a long night, but hopefully it would be worth it. Part of him couldn’t wait to see Switch’s - and Macro’s - faces when he read it to them. But first, he needed a good night’s sleep. Then he’d be fresh enough to recite his festive masterpiece to the rest of the crew in the morning.
As ridiculous as the story was, he hoped it would bring some joy.
...
A/N - Did it? I hope so.
Well, now I've most likely effectively ruined A Christmas Carol for you all, we'll be back to our regularly scheduled story from Friday! I'll reply to feedback from this AND the previous chapter then, also.
Merry Christmas, everyone! =D