Crashmas by SecondGuess

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Droolie the Grendler

Had a kindly, bumpy gait

When he came to play

He brought toys to trade

All the kids could hardly wait…

--The Martin Classic Crashmas Carols Library

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“Help me, Bess! I need you to be my muse, here!” Morgan threw his arms in the air frantically before continuing to fan the data pad back and forth in front of his face. He reminded Bess of the figure in the photo that she knew still hung on her father‘s wall. Great Grandmother Klempt, with her hair in ribbons and piles of crinoline at her feet, frilly fan in hand. It just figured that she’d leave Earth for the Stations and find herself married to a Southern Belle.
“Morgan, honey, maybe you shouldn’t do that particular song.” Bess didn’t look up from her sewing. She was attempting to use the rest of the tattered solar blanket to make a cape for Uly’s Crashmas character of the Terrian Prince. “It’s kind of annoying, anyway…” she added under her breath. She didn’t want to upset her husband, but there was only so much holiday music a person could take.

Morgan had been taking his job of “Crashmas Celebration Liaison to the Arts” very seriously, and while Bess found it endearing, her chat with Danziger the day before had soured her Crashmas spirit, just a bit.

As much as she was furious with John for his constant morbid pragmatism, he certainly did have a very good point about things getting carried away. She’d already found herself using more rations than she'd originally planned, and it seemed that the entire camp had found themselves caught up in Crashmas Fever. It was all Eden Advance had talked about for days, and even though they really didn’t have anything else to do, per se, she was sure there were more important things they could be doing.

“I have to do this carol, Bess, it’s a Christmas--”

“Crashmas, Morgan! Two very different holi--”

“Crashmas Staple! I have to make sure I get all the staples in. And I want to make sure that I get everything we‘ve encountered covered, every evil little creature and psychopathic, metal masked freak and penal colonist--” Bess cut him off with a cluck of her tongue.

“Morgan, this is supposed to be a positive celebration! Maybe you could refrain from using the word evil in the actual songs--”

“They’re not just songs! They’re carols! This is the oral history of Eden Advance at it’s finest, to be passed down through the generations! Don’t you see, Bess? I am single handedly responsible for creating the myth structure of an entire planet! Now just give me a word that rhymes with Koba!“

Bess plopped the unruly pile of metallic fabric into her lap with a huff. She glared unrelentingly at her husband in stony silence until he finally took the cue to calm himself down.

“I do not know a word that rhymes with Koba, Morgan.” She stated calmly. Her husband rolled his eyes dramatically, his wispy hair sweeping left and right with every pass of the pad. “I don’t think there is a word that rhymes with Koba, and even though I appreciate that you want to get your--”

“Carols!”

“-- exactly right, honey, I’m still not quite sure why you’re insisting on using the tunes from Christmas songs.” Morgan raised a finger. “Carols! They’re two different holidays is all.”

As he rose from his stool, Bess couldn’t help but notice the familiar lofty gleam in her husband's eyes. Back on the stations, it was reserved solely for talk of moving to the Luxury Level, or for those rare times he actually got to use the phrase “Official Government Business” on someone other than herself.

“These carols are iconic, Bess. Everyone knows the tunes, they can’t help but know them with the way they were piped in through the Station Speakers! It makes sense to use them so that we can all join in! Plus, Bess, you know I work much better in a…verbal arena. My musical skills are--”

“Morgan, sweetie, you’re an excellent drummer! I’m sure you could come up with a whole set of--”

“There’s a reason I’m a drummer, Bess. Does the phrase “tone deaf as an absolute vacuum” ring any bells? I believe that was Danziger’s precise--”

“It just feels to me like these carols are…taken, Morgan.” She couldn’t help but add, “By another holiday. Which is nothing like this one.”

“I know, Bess. I know, I know! Just look at it as a way of…joining traditions! People in New Pacifica will be singing these songs with their families long after we’re back on the Stations eating Christmas cookies, they have to be easily accessible!” He paused for a moment, looking suddenly bereft. “Oh, remember those cookies with the little green--”

“How about ‘Kyle the friendly Koba had a very deadly claw?’” Bess suggested helpfully, picking up her sewing to close the subject before Morgan could get any further down the slippery slope of baked goods.

Morgan shot up stiffly, frozen for a moment before nodding more and more enthusiastically. Snapping his fingers for inspiration he slowly began to speak.

“And if…he ever….shoots you, it’ll be…four days until you THAW-- BESS YOU ARE BRILLIANT!” Finishing in a rush, he swept Bess to her feet and planted a kiss on her lips. She chuckled, the last vestiges of Danziger’s pessimism finally floating away.

Deepening her husband’s embrace, Bess felt in her heart that this celebration was exactly what everyone needed. If Crashmas could turn her fussy husband into a hard working, muse-worthy poet laureate, then mushy old John Danziger didn’t even stand a chance.

He had just better make it back on time, or Bess was going to personally introduce him to Kyle the friendly Koba.

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