December Challenge – check out freak-of-spades monthly challenge!

Theme is 'Halloween on Christmas':

MUSTs

Everything must be set outdoors. Must use the words: archive, pancake, mandarin, butter, phantasmagoria, pounce/d and permission.

One character must say: "It's the floaty men, dude…they're here to steal your soul and put it in a little star-shaped glass box…"

MUST BE SLASH (Nooo? REALLY?! *insert sarcasm*)

The story must at some point feature the re-enactment of a famous scene of a famous movie/scene from a famous movie/famous scene from a movie (whether intentional and acknowledged is up to you)

NO-WAYs

No mentions of alcohol or drugs.

Nothing can happen indoors

Not allowed to start conversations with 'I'

A/N: I wanted this to be a lovely piece of fuck ass angst but I can – and do – write that any day of the week, so I thought I would try something different, I've never tried writing someone with this attitude before, so let me know how it works out :) I think it's a pile or shit but I had fun writing it, so whatever :P

'Just leave so we can enjoy a nice family dinner at Christmas?' What the fuck was I? A pancake?! I'm aware that is not the saying, but who the fuck even likes chopped liver anyway? Whatever. So congratulations to me, I've managed to get myself kicked out of my house. On Christmas day. Wooooo. Its not even Christmas day anymore, its Christmas-evening-where-all-the-burglars-wake-up-and-come-out-because-its-dark-and-all-the-parents-are-passed-out-after-looking-after-hyperactive-brats-all-day time. I suppose I should let you know how I ended up wandering the streets – which by the way, are not fucking covered in snow – on this so called special day…I am going to start by announcing it was not my fault.

I didn't mean to call my step-mother a 'fake-breasted, face of a thirty year old man, talentless, lazy, fake, gold-digging, whore', it just slipped out.

Okay, so on reviewing the details, maybe it was my fault.

A tad.

In my defence. It's true.

That bitch always hated me.

Well its mutual you old slag!

That's the smartest thing I've done all day. Right before the second smartest thing I've done all day which is after my little notice about burglars and shit like that because its dark and well you know, Christmas, I decide to walk through the park. Our park is shit. Its small. Has trees and a bridge and that's about it. More to the point it's called "phantasmagoria park", I would love to deck the namers of this park. How lame can you get? There's nothing phantasmagorial about the fucker!

Now the list of things that could happen to me in the park on a dark evening with no body around, is endless…I could get, murdered, raped, mugged, kidnapped, beaten up, I could get tied to a tree with my shoes stolen and a degrading sign placed above my head for laughs, I could even find money – pssssh - I could get absolutely anything.

Of all these possibilities though, never, in a million years did I think I would end up getting kicked in the face and falling to the ground on my back.

How the fuck did I get kicked in the face anyway?

Oh. I see. I look up and see a leg dangling from the tree I had just walked under, and then shortly afterwards some skinny little shit drops down next to me, looks at the damage he's caused and says…

"Oops sorry"

'Oops'?! What kind of fucking reaction is that?! I scramble to my feet and snarl at him in return.

"What do you mean ooops!"

"Well I'm kind of preoccupied right now!, I did say sorry."

"So! How hard is it to make sure no ones beneath you before you jump out of a tree!"

He shrugged.

Shrugged.

Is he trying to infuriate me?

I'm a good head taller than he is, so I use it to my advantage and slink towards him, although I get the distinct impression he doesn't really notice until I've grabbed the front of his think jacket.

On a side note – he must be retarded. Its freezing out here and he's wearing fuck all. Well just a T-shirt. Hmmm. Fuck all…That could be interesting…

Moving on.

He jerks in surprise and I scowl in his face, only to have him just stand there and ask if he 'can go now'!

"No you can not go now! Oh my god! I'm about 3 inches away from beating the shit out of you, how can you not care you fucking weirdo!"

He shrugs.

Again.

Urgh!

I think by now you are probably getting a good idea about how much of a short temper I really have. It's the reason I'm not actually surprised I'm here on Christmas day. Here, with some little freak who in the space of only two minutes has managed to assault me and aggravate me beyond belief.

"Hey! Come back!" shit when did I let go of his shirt?

"Moron, you let go of me I didn't take that as a cue to stay."

"Well you should have done dumb fuck I've not even punched you yet!"

"Okay."

I'm gonna kill this kid.

"What?"

"Punch me so I can move the fuck on – I have more important things to do."

"No!" I can't punch someone who's asking for it! Sucks the fun out of it that does!

"Well bye then." Someone explain to me why he looks disappointed?

"Urgh!" I rounded him and blocked his path, he looked ready to pounce on me. It was only then that I realised something wasn't quite right. The boy was too small, too pale, too tired, too relaxed about getting the shit beaten out of him and too disinterested in anything else other than getting to his location.

"Stop fucking me off and let me go! What are you some kind of stalker? If you want to hit me then fucking do it – I don't give a shit."

"If you don't mind, then what's the point?"

"For fucks sake! Do you want me to act scared?"

This was ridiculous, we were actually arguing because I was refusing to punch him…

"Well that's pointless too."

"You know what. You're just too pussy to even hit anyone anyway, just trying to scare me with your big words aren't you?"

"Don't tempt me, I owe you for kicking me in the face!"

"Yeah you do owe me – seeing as I improved it and all." I will have you know that there is fuck all wrong with my face. Or any other part of my gorgeous body for that matter. Fuck you if you think I'm vain – my eyes work fine, therefore I know a fine piece of ass when I see one. "What's up? Afraid you'll break a nail? Go back home pussy."

He steps aside to walk on to his destination and I grab the collar of his shirt and raise my fist, fully intending to wipe his nose off and let it fall to the floor instead, but seeing him smirk made me diverted my fist at the last second, finally understanding the slagging off match we had just had, I was still utterly confused though, "why do you want me to hit you?" He must do - what fucking freak smirks unless they get what they want?

"Saves me a job. Are we done here?"

"What do you mean?"

"Fuck off, that's what I mean." And he ran away. The little shit. Now being as I have nothing else to do and because well, I'm nosey and have to have the last word, I follow him. And lets face it – its not like I had a full Christmas dinner inside me slowing me down is it? We run through the park, eventually I see him start running up the bridge that sits over the river which passes through the area and then he stops running.

He doesn't pause to admire the scenery though; he slings one leg over the banister of the bridge and then hoists himself up until eventually he is nearly sitting on the thin wooden barrier. Fuck. If he falls then he's dead. The water is deathly cold, shallow enough for him to bash his skull in on the bottom yet deep enough for him to drown. I am so not jumping in after the little shit.

Just as he hoists himself up into a definite seating position I reach behind him, I didn't want to shout in case I startled him over the edge so instead I lunged and wrapped my arms around his torso, heaving him back before he could push forward. We fell – my head hit the bridge floor and he fell on top of me. Good job he's so skinny after all.

Shit I can't believe I just saw someone nearly top themselves. He seemed fine when he had been talking to him just minutes beforehand, well, he was insane I suppose…

Suicidal boy however, recovered before I did, he scrambled to his feet, waved his fists around and shook in absolute fury. Much to my displeasure, for the second time today I found myself being kicked in the face.

"You ungrateful little bitch! That hurt! I should have just fucking pushed you!"

"Yeah! You should have! Give me a lift up if you want," and he walked to the railing again, I grabbed his ankle.

"Christ! I wasn't serious."

"Well I was."

"Look," I hit the back of his knee so he ungracefully joined me on the floor again, "I'm not going to let you kill yourself."

"You really should."

"As much as I want too, I wont."

"Well good look monitoring me all the god damned time then. Well that being said, you are a stalker."

"Whatever! I am not a stalker. I have better things to do." I lie.

"Go and do them then."

"No. So come on then, why'd you do it?"

"You wouldn't even be able to handle hearing why." He snorted.

"You'd best give it a shot otherwise I might just call you an attention seeking little liar who's too pussy to off themselves."

"What just because I'm not some steroetypical little whiny emo fuck you think that I cant kill myself?"

"Fucktard, I didn't mean that. You just don't seem very beat that's all. Shit my arse is cold!"

"How's this for beat?" He lifts shirt up and I gasp there isn't one inch of his skin that isn't bruised. Someone got him good…

"How did that happen?"

"Couple of dudes…"

"You're not going to tell me anything else are you?"

"Nope."

"Is whatever happened there…" I motioned to his body with one of my hands, "why?"

"It was the icing on the cake I suppose. I just can't be arsed with life anymore. People kill themselves, it happens. I'm going to die someday anyway."

"Well yeah, but still…what are you gonna do now?"

"Wait for you to piss off so I can jump off my bridge."

"Well that makes me want to stay…"

"You're so fucking weird."

I shrugged, "It's the floaty men, dude…they're here to steal your soul and put it in a little star-shaped glass box…that's what happened to me anyway. Or so I'm told. Either way – I turned out fine."

"If you say so."

I stood up and pounced on a large stick that had fell from one of the kick ass trees above me and used it to lean on whilst weird boy got to his feet and brushed himself off. "See ya, I'm off now." He waved and tried to get past me to the higher part of the bridge again. How many times did I have to repeat myself to this dipshit?

"Look, fucktard, I wont be the reason you end up dead."

"You're not."

He tried to shove past me and I pushed him back, brandishing my stick wildly suicidal boy looked torn between laughing and running a mile, I raised it above my head and with a fierce look in my eyes, I slammed it's end onto the bridge screaming, "you shall not pass!"*

"It is not your bridge, I don't need your permission."

"All I'm asking is for you to not kill yourself. Why don't you come back with me?"

"What to the happy home that kicked you out on Christmas?"

"Hey! It's a good home thank you very much. They'll love you! It'll be like a little project plus it will take some attention off me which is always good. I'm probably the worst thing about the entire thing." I grin and say that proudly because hell, I am proud.

"That I can believe, you're as daft as a pancake."

"Who the fuck says that?!"

"Obviously me."

"Mmm, I like pancakes! With mandarins, and butter!"

"Its confirmed. You are a freak."

I bowed. And much against his will I saw him crack a smile! Ha! "YES! Hahahaha! You cant be suicidal if you're smiling."

"Whatever!" he covers his mouth, "You're wrong – I was not smiling!"

"Yeah-ha! You love me! You want my sexy body!"

"Nope. I do want to shove your stick right up your fucking arse though."

"Oooooh innuendo."

I pounce on him, "It's safe to go from suicide watch to crazy I want to fuck you into the snowless but frosty ground now right?"

"Retard!" But he laughed again! Haha! In all my time, all the people I have ever heard laugh – and searching through the archives in my brains, is a lot – his laugh is defiantly the sexiest

"Come home with me?"

"Ah fuck it. I may as well. I can kill myself some other day, might as well get laid first."

"You're a virgin?!"

"Maybe." His tone was defenceless, his stare cold but fuck that I'm not criticising!

"Score!" I punch the air.

When he gets to his feet his I smack his - nice - arse with the stick and claim it to be mine.

He throws the stick in the river and we watch it float under the bridge.

"See, that could have been you suicidal slave boy."

"Slave boy?"

"Need your fucking ears cleaning out?"

"You need your mouth washing out!" He grabs my collar and our lips meet. Neither of us want to hand over dominance to the other so the kiss is filled with biting and duelling tongues. In other words, it was hot.

This is what I call Christmas.

Now if you excuse me, I'm going home to unwrap my fucking present.

* Lord of the Rings. Of course.

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