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"Are you almost ready, Coyote?" A deep, brassy voice carried up the stairs, and through The Coyote's open door.

"Yeah, Valyrym." The Coyote glanced up from his monitor. "Just gimme a few minutes. I gotta set up the font and everything for this year's Christmas story."

"Ah, yes, of course." The black dragon poked his blue-tipped muzzle between the tinsel-decked banister columns that lined the stairway. "Your tens of readers would surely revolt were you to choose anything but Times New Roman." Valyrym snorted. "Let alone if you dared to select an odd-number font size."

The Coyote chuckled, fiddling with his word processor settings. "It's just force of habit."

"Whatever! Just _force_your furry canine ass down the stairs soon, or I'm going to start the movie without you!" Valyrym tossed his head, only for the top of his skull to crack the banister's railing. "Damn it!" He pulled back, and his horns caught the wooden columns, tearing them free of their moorings. The dragon stumbled back, lost his footing on the stairs, and crashed through the other railing with a yowl, and a loud, wooden clatter. Broken wood and lines of silvery tinsel followed him, covering the dragon in decorative debris. "Ah! Coyote! Your damn house is Home Alone-ing me!"

"What the hell, Valyrym!" The Coyote shot to his feet, hurrying out of his room. "I leave you on your own for five minutes and you're wrecking up the place?" He stepped carefully over jagged wooden shrapnel. "Who are you, Nixon's head from futurama?"

The dragon lifted his head, groaning. "Ah, yes, a timely reference that will surely illicit hoots and hollers from your fans! Now, are you going to help me or not?"

"Hoots and hollers?" The Coyote flattened his ears. "How is it that even when I make you younger for Christmas, you still end up sounding like an old moonshiner?" He headed downstairs, picking his way through the rubble, and eventually reached the dragon. "I'm gonna have to make you smaller, for this story. Especially if you wanna watch the movie with us."

"Fine, fine." Valyrym waved a paw. Tattered silver strands hung from it. "Do your worst."

The Coyote shrugged. "If you say so." He summoned his Christmas magic, and shrank Valyrym significantly. "There we go." He left Valyrym to extricate himself, and headed towards the kitchen. "I'll be in the family room when you're ready."

"Very funny!" The dragon shook himself, scattering damaged decorations. "I thought you were going to make me smaller."

"I did!" The Coyote picked up a bowl filled with white-chocolate covered popcorn, carrying it into the family room.

"You did not." Valyrym used his tail to sweep aside the festive wreckage. "I'm exactly the same size I was before."

"Trust me, Valyrym." The Coyote smirked as he set the bowl down on a table near the couch. "Part of you is much smaller now."

There was a moment of silence from the dragon, followed by a very loud, very high pitched shriek. "AAH! You shrank my cock!"

"Valyrym!" The Coyote turned towards him, hands on his hips in mock admonishment. "Don't say that word! Ayly's around here somewhere." He blinked, glancing around. "I assume."

"Oh, shut the fuck up, Scavenger." Valyrym snarled, stomping a forepaw. "You and Asterbury swear up a damn storm every single Christmas, with no regard for who might hear and repeat you! I'll say whatever the gryphon-fucking hell I want!"

The Coyote scratched his muzzle. "Huh. Sounds like someone's been reading Princess of Beasts and wants to expand his vocabulary."

Valyrym snorted. "Actually, I was reading that Royal Menagerie thing. I quite like that murderous little foul-mouthed kobold! And if he gets to swear, I should get to swear as well!"

"Hey, hey." The Coyote held his hands up. "That story's not even public knowledge, yet. I haven't even posted any of those rough draft NaNoWriMo chapters on the Patreon. All I did was talk about it in the Patreon Discord. Probably post the chapters after the current batch of Revaramek runs out."

"Ah, yes." Valyrym tossed his head. "Anything to avoid working on my story, eh Scavenger?"

"Oh, hilarious." The Coyote crossed his arms. "You're just asking for an involuntary egg nog enema. An..." He tilted his head. "Eggnogema?"

Valyrym blinked, slowly pulling his head back. "A what?"

"Nevermind." The Coyote waved his hand. "A dumb joke I was gonna use on Asterbury, but he's not here yet, and right now I'm arguing with you, so..." He shrugged. "Anyway, if it's gryphon-fucking you, I'm sure Admiral Krek would be happy to-"

"That pompous old crow?" Valyrym stomped his paw again. "Ever since he got that promotion back in your previous universe, he's been shoving that title in my face! Thinks he's so big and bad, with his well-trained army and his indescribably incredible training montages!"

"Oh, that's right." The Coyote rubbed his muzzle in thought. "Everything went to shit while I was lost in that snow globe. Krek had to lead a rag tag band of survivors in a Mad Max style Christmas war, or something. Then you guys told me about Covid and everything, and we decided to nope the fuck out of there, back to the snow globe."

"Yes." Valyrym nodded, looking around. "So...where are we now, again?"

The Coyote made a farting noise. "Fuck if I know. I forgot to read last year's story before I wrote this one." He licked his nose, then shrugged. "Doesn't matter. Anyway, I'm sure Krek would-"

"That lousy bird can blow me!"

The Coyote grinned. "I'm sure he'd be happy to do that, too."

"Yes, I know..." Valyrym scrunched his muzzle. "I've read his fanfiction." The dragon shuddered. "And speaking of which, are we going to talk about my cock or not?"

"You know," The Coyote said. "You'd be surprised how many people do want to talk about your cock, Valyrym."

The dragon growled under his breath. "Oh, I've seen your DMs. I just assumed most of those came from Krek, too. Now, shut up and look at my cock, Scavenger!"

The Coyote slowly flattened back his ears. "I guess that's one way to celebrate Christmas." He turned around, surveying the house around him. Snowmen of all shapes and sizes decorated every shelf. Reindeer adorned countertops and tables. Snow-covered cottages festooned the ends of counters, and the mantle. "Huh...the details look right."

Valyrym followed the coyote's gaze. "What do you mean?"

"Oh, I was just checking to make sure Asterbury hadn't stuck me into someone's shitty RP." He turned back towards the dragon. "Can't think of why else you'd ask me to look at your cock, unless some horny fan was writing your dialogue."

"I think of a few reasons." Valyrym made a show of glancing away, then snapped his head back to the coyote, snarling again. "For starters, you shrank my cock but not my sheath! Now it looks like an empty shirt sleeve under there!"

The Coyote burst out laughing. "Oh, I'm sure it's not that bad." He crouched down, glancing along the dragon's underbelly. Valyrym's sheath now dangled free and empty. The Coyote laughed even harder. "Oh my god! It looks like an old fire hose!"

"Very goddamned funny!" Valyrym lashed his tail, topping over a few decorative reindeer. "Fix it!"

"Isn't it supposed to be attached to you?"

"Yes!"

"Then why's it just hanging like that?"

"I don't know!" Valyrym growled, exasperated. "You broke it somehow!"

The Coyote picked up an especially long, ornamental candy cane. He poked the dragon's dangling sheath with it, causing it to bobble and sway. "Look at that thing! It's like a dead elephant's trunk!"

"Just fix it!"

"Do you think you could roll it up, like a fruit by the foot?" Giggling, The Coyote poked it a few more times, leaving it wobbling back and forth. "Oh! Or would it be more like one of those old panty hose containers? Or like those fake snakes in a tube!"

Valyrym snatched The Coyote by the scruff of his neck. "Fix it, or I'm gonna fix you."

The Coyote squirmed against the dragon's grasp. "You would not!"

"Maybe not..." The dragon cocked his head. "But Amaleen would. Shall I call her?"

"Go ahead." The Coyote booped the dragon's nose with his candy cane. "Pretty sure she's just gonna laugh at that thing, too. But, in the spirit of our friendship, I'll fix it."

"That's better." Valyrym set The Coyote down. "Go on, then. And don't you even think about-"

"Too late!" The Coyote was already thinking about exactly that. Instead of restoring Valyrym to normal, he simply shrank the rest of the dragon down until everything fit perfectly again. By then, Valyrym was little larger than a housecat. "There we go! Perfect!"

"No!" Valyrym's voice was practically a meow. "I refuse to spend an entire Christmas story condemned to some tiny hatchling body!"

Laughing, the Coyote scooped up the miniature dragon. "Aww, but you're so adorable! You look just like Little Valar, but angrier. And just think, you could have entire Christmas adventures with Ayly now."

Valyrym lifted his undersized frills, considering it. "Actually...that might be a wonderful way to bond with my granddaughter. Very well, I accept-"

"Nah, nevermind." The Coyote dropped him back onto the floor. "That's like a whole-ass story's worth of work. All we're doing this year is watching a movie." He waved his hand, and Valyrym grew again, ending up at roughly the size of a large German shepherd. "There. This is you this year." He dusted off his hands. "End of story."

"Already?" Valyrym looked himself over, stretching his wings. "But it just started! We haven't even watched the movie yet."

"No." The Coyote rubbed his forehead. "Not literally the end of the story. It's an expression."

The dragon stretched his paws out, examining them. "What's an expression?"

"End of story."

Valyrym set his forepaws back down. "Already? But it just started! We haven't even watched the movie yet."

"Boy, senility set in hard, didn't it."

Valyrym gave him a blank look. "What do you mean?"

"You literally just said that."

Valyrym blinked. "Said what?"

The Coyote narrowed his eyes. He paced around the small dragon, examining him closely. He ran his fingers over the membranes of his wings, and felt the texture of his scales. "Hmmm..."

"What are you doing, Scavenger?" Valyrym swiveled his wedge-shaped head around, observing the Coyote.

"Looking for zippers. Or buttons." He prodded at a few spines. "Or any other sign that you're actually Asterbury in a Valyrym skin suit." He tugged on the dragon's ear till Valyrym yelped. "Cause you're ridin' my ass just like he does."

"Asterbury rides your ass?" Valyrym rumbled laughter. "Does your boyfriend know?"

"Oh, shut the fuck up, Asterbury." The Coyote slapped Valyrym hard across the muzzle.

"Ow!" Valyrym stumbled a few paces, then clutched his muzzle with a forepaw. "What the hell, Coyote? That hurt!"

The Coyote scrunched his face. "Oh, uh...sorry about that. Thought you were really him, for a second."

"You know..." Valyrym rubbed his snout, wincing. "I think that kobold bartender from last year's story was right. You are obsessed with Asterbury in these stories."

The Coyote rolled his eyes. "I am not." He turned towards the kitchen. "I'm gonna get some egg nog for the movie. Since you're dog sized now, you may as well make yourself at home on the couch."

Valyrym padded out into the family room, then hopped up on the sofa, settling down onto his haunches. "If you're not obsessed with him, why do you keep inviting him to these things?"

"Oh, please." The Coyote got a couple of glasses from a cupboard. "We both know he'll show up every time, either way. Things are just easier for everyone if I invite him."

"If you say so." Valyrym picked up the remote, delicately turning on the TV. "I can't believe you're still writing these things."

"And I can't believe it's going to be 83 on Christmas!" The Coyote went to the fridge, pulling it open.

Asterbury sprang out of the refrigerator, tackling The Coyote to the kitchen floor. "And I can't believe I fucked Fabio!"

The Coyote gave a startled cough, his head swimming. He groaned in pain, gasping for breath. "What...the fuck...Asterbury?" When he realized his vision was blurry, he felt around behind his head. "You knocked my glasses off!"

"Yes!" Asterbury pumped his fist, beaming. "I knew you'd be happy to see me!"

"That's not what I meant!" The Coyote found his spectacles, and carefully returned them to his face. "I meant-"

"I know, I know. The line was supposed to be, 'and I can't believe it's not butter.' And I was all set to say it, but-"

"Not that!" The Coyote pushed himself up onto his elbows under the urd'thin. "I meant-"

"Alright, alright." Asterbury held his hands up. "You got me, Dumpster Fucker. I didn't fuck Fabio." A grin spread over his muzzle. "Fabio fucked me!"

The Coyote glanced from the urd'thin, to the fridge, and back to the urd'thin. "How the fuck-"

"Did I meet Fabio?" Asterbury sat up straighter. "Excellent question! So there I was, in the dairy aisle." He flourished his hands. "Trying to find one single employee who wouldn't run away from me whenever I ask which makes a better lube, butter or margarine."

"Oh, my god." The Coyote put his hands over his face.

Valyrym called out from the other room. "I told you, you shouldn't have invited him."

Asterbury went on, unabated. "When who should walk out of the ice cream section, but the golden stallion himself, Fabio! First, he told me I could never say, 'I can't believe it's not butter again', or he'd sue the pants off me. Then I told him, he didn't have to sue me to get my pants off. And before you know it?" Asterbury pistoned his fist back and forth in the air. "I've got ol' Fabio's Yule Log snug in my holiday hearth!"

The Coyote groaned. "I really hope that fist is just a metaphor."

"Wouldn't you like to know?" Asterbury tapped the ring on one of his fingers. "And before you ask, yes, the Chocolate Strudel knows. It's okay, Fabio's on my freebie list!"

"Ugh." The Coyote cringed. "Fact number two hundred seventy four that I didn't want to know about your marriage to Vatch."

Once again, Valyrym called out from the family room. "I still can't believe you made that canon!"

The Coyote rubbed an ear. "It's only canon in the Christmas stories-"

"Wrong!" Asterbury poked The Coyote's nose. "It's all canon to me. I'm a multiversal deity! So even when I'm antagonizing Revaramek? I'm thinkin' about Vatch's candy cane..."

"No, you're not." The Coyote glowered up at the smug urd'thin. "You're not Doctor Manhattan."

"It's year 734." Asterbury gazed into the distance. "I'm fighting a dragon, in a swamp. For the first time in my construct's memory, I'm losing." He turned his head, staring through the walls. "It's 2020. I'm in a Christmas story. My chocolate strudel is tazing my sheath-"

"I said no!" The Coyote reached up to clamp the urd'thin's muzzle shut. "No one who reads this is gonna recognize your shitty Doctor Manhattan Impression, anyway."

Asterbury wriggled and squirmed. Cherishing the extremely temporary silence, The Coyote finally took a moment to look his former Christmas story nemesis over. This year, the urd'thin had foregone his usual santa robe, and instead was decked out in an overlong, bright green Christmas sweater. Tiny little silver bells adorned it, along with twinkling lights. A smiling woman in a red and white dress seated atop a pair of larger, golden bells adorned the bottom of it. Above her, fanciful text read, Carol of the Bells.

The Coyote sighed, releasing Asterbury's muzzle. "Do I even want to know who that is?"

"Well, that's Carol, of course!" The urd'thin cackled.

"Carol of the bells?" The Coyote pinned his ears back. "I hate the pun, but...that's clever. For once."

"What?" Asterbury scrunched his muzzle. "Bells? What's Carol of the Bells?"

"It's a song! A very, very famous Christmas song that your sweater is clearly referencing."

"No, no, no." Asterbury shook his head. "You misread it! That's Carol of the Balls, see?" Asterbury hiked his sweater up a little bit, and his gray furred urd'thin testicles dropped out into view. Now, it looked as if the woman was seated atop them. "See? Carol of the Balls."

The Coyote stared at Asterbury for a long moment, before deeply sighing. "Goddamn it, Asterbury. This is why I hate you." He grunted. "I kinda hoped those would stay gone after what happened a few stories ago."

"Oh, please. We both know I'm invincible!" Asterbury scooted down The Coyote's body till he was hovering over his crotch. "Uh oh, Scavenger, if our balls touch, it'll make us gay!"

"I'm gonna shove you back in that fridge, and padlock it!" The Coyote shoved Asterbury off of him, then staggered up to his feet.

Asterbury danced away, cackling. "Oh no, that's not my gimp box, and you know it!"

"I shoulda asked Vatch to lock you in there all damn Christmas." The Coyote returned to the fridge, then paused. "If another one of you pops out of here..." He amended himself. "If anything_pops out of here, I'm gonna kick you in the balls so hard _Carol is gonna cry. Then I'm gonna kick you out of the story until next year."

"And risk missing movie night?" Asterbury gasped, a hand on his chest. "I do declare!"

The Coyote cautiously opened the fridge, pleased to find its interior and its contents somehow totally undisturbed. He retrieved the bottle of eggnog, then poured two glasses full. The Coyote put the bottle back, and carried the drinks out into the family room, where Valyrym waited.

"So, Scavenger." Asterbury followed after him, gazing around. "New Kitchen, huh?"

The Coyote paused, scowling. "Not by choice. We had an all time historic freeze last winter. A pipe burst behind our dishwasher, flooded everything." He gazed around at the quartz countertops, the light gray cabinets, the new island cooktop, the new light fixtures, the double ovens, and more. "They literally had to rip out everything in the kitchen. This whole part of the house was stripped right down to the bare studs for months."

Asterbury's jaw hung open. "You were surrounded by bare studs, for months?" A line of drool ran from his jaws. "I'm...quite sorry I missed that."

"Not that kind of stud, you reindeer's ball sack." The Coyote growled at him. "God, you're hornier than a rabbit on Viagra."

"Rabbit on Viagra?" Asterbury waggled his hand. "B-, scavenger. Not bad, but you can do better. Have another beer before you continue the story, maybe."

"Oh, shut the fuck up." He gazed around the very recently restored kitchen. "The point is, everything's only new because the previous kitchen was ruined by a frozen pipe that exploded. We went months and months without even a sink out here, let alone any way to cook food. We were...using a single hot plate, and a crock pot. Everything else was take out. Hell." The Coyote snorted, glancing at the back doors. "Still waiting on getting those replaced. And the hood for the stove."

Asterbury rubbed his hands together. "Hooded studs? I like the sound of that!"

"Stove, you unwashed elf's chode." The Coyote gestured with a glass of eggnog towards the stovetop. "The hood is that part that goes above it to ventilate it, and everything."

The urd'thin smirked. "You're just looking for excuses to use all these festive, holiday insults, aren't you?"

"They are an essential element of these Christmas stories." The Coyote chuckled, walking out to the sofa.

"Just like Tim Allen," Asterbury said, following after him.

The Coyote laughed harder. "Sure, why not. Hell, at this point..." He handed Valyrym a glass. "I can't really remember the essential elements of a Christmas story."

Valyrym immediately spilled his egg nog all over the sofa. "I pilled my edd nod!"

"Goddamn it, you senile old lizard!" The Coyote set his own egg nog down, magicking up a roll of paper towels.

"Yeah!" Asterbury put his hands on his hips, glowering at the dragon. "What kind of horrible old monster steals a yearly traditional away from his own granddaughter? Ayly's supposed to spill the egg nog!"

Valyrym tilted his head. "You mean, pill the edd nod."

Asterbury blinked. "Yeah, I heard you the first time, you even stole her favorite line!"

The Coyote thrust the paper towels into the dragon's plated chest. "Clean up your damn mess." He glanced at Asterbury. "That's not her favorite line. Pretty sure her favorite line is any time she gets to call Krek, Lellumgurb. And any time she gets to mention he's soggy."

"Yeah," Asterbury said, cackling. "Like all those times he pissed himself!"

"Okay." The Coyote held up a finger. "One, I've never made Krek piss himself." He jerked a thumb at Valyrym. "He's the butt of the incontinence jokes." Ignoring Valyrym's growl, he held up a second finger. "And two, if Krek did piss himself, I damn sure don't want Ayly anywhere near him at the time." He turned back towards the old dragon. "Why did you steal her line, anyway?"

"What are you two talking about?" Valyrym awkwardly dabbed at the spilled egg nog with the entire roll of paper towels. "Dragon paws aren't made to hold fancy human glasses! I didn't do it on purpose."

"That's not how..." The Coyote sighed, then snatched the roll back. He pulled a few dozen paper towels free, and handed them back to the dragon. "I wasn't even talking about spilling it. Why did you say it the way Ayly does?"

Valyrym only stared at him in confusion. "Because I did pill my edd nod?"

"What the hell are you talking about?" The Coyote glanced between Valyrym and Asterbury a few times. "He's as infuriating as you are, lately."

"Finally!" Asterbury clapped his hands. "Those lessons are really paying off!"

The Coyote blinked. "What lessons?" Then he held up a hand. "Nevermind, I don't care. Valyrym." He turned back towards the dragon. "Say, I spilled my egg nog."

The dragon tilted his head. "I spilled my egg nog."

"Okay, and now..." He pointed to the stain the dragon was smearing around. "What happened there?"

Valyrym looked down at it. "I pilled my edd nod."

Asterbury bounced on his toes. "And who's on first?"

The Coyote smacked the back of his hand into the Urd'thin's balls. "No!"

"Awww!" Asterbury doubled over, cross-eyed, then slowly sank to his knees. "Think you just rounded third, that time!"

The Coyote crinkled up his muzzle. "I don't even wanna think about what that means. Valyrym, _why_do keep saying, pilled your edd nod, instead of spilled your egg nog?"

The dragon stared back at him, frills splayed in confusion. "Is that not the traditional Earth expression, for spilling your egg nog?"

"No!"

Valyrym licked his nose. "Are you sure?"

The Coyote took a deep breath, then let it out in a long, slow sigh. "Let me get this straight. You believe that here on Earth, whenever someone spills their egg nog, it's somehow traditional to explain... I pilled my edd nod?"

"Yes!" A smile broke out across Valyrym's muzzle. "Isn't that why Ayly always says that, whenever she spills hers?"

"No!" The Coyote threw his hands up. "Why would you even think that?"

Valyrym swirled a paw in the air. "I just assumed you gave her your people's traditional holiday exclamation. Okay, then." He shrugged his wings. "Why does she say that?"

"Because she's a child!" The Coyote folded his arms. "A child who likes screwing with us."

Valyrym stared at him for a long while. "That..." Gears turned behind his golden eyes. "Checks out." He went back to wiping soggy eggnog all across the sofa.

"Oh, my god." The Coyote flopped onto his seat. "This story is already so dumb."

Asterbury stood back up. "Oh, you hear that?" He put a hand to his ear. "He groaned out that 'oh my god' just like Bob's Burgers." He lowered his voice. "I think Krampus must have left a Christmas Crap in The Trash Puppy's favorite dumpster."

"I do not have a favorite dumpster." The Coyote glared at Asterbury.

"I know, I know, you love 'em all, right?" Asterbury flopped down onto the couch next to the canine. He waved his hand, as if illustrating a beautiful scene. "The stockings were hung, by the dumpsters with care, with the smell of putrid garbage, thick in the air. All through the alley way, the coyotes did stir, with ripe filthy foulness, matting their fur. Out came their leader, hard as a rock, excited by the scents of a pizza-sauced gym sock!"

"Alright, Dr. Douche, that's very good." The Coyote sipped his egg nog, glaring at Asterbury. "You stay up all night coming up with those rhymes? You all set to go battle B-Rabbit, up in 8 Mile?"

Asterbury scoffed. "At least I can rhyme. Douche doesn't rhyme with Seuss at all."

The Coyote set his glass back down. "Okay, you try rhyming Doctor Suess."

"Dr. Juice!" Asterbury smirked. "No wait, Moose! Dr. Moose, cause I got a big ol' Moose Knuckle."

The Coyote blinked. "I'm not sure that means what you think it means."

"And what the hell are Battling Bee Rabbits, anyway?" Asterbury scratched one of his oversized ears. "Is that the hot new video game? Actually, a bee rabbit would be sort of terrifying. I guess you could collect and battle them, like fuckemon."

"Please tell me you mean pokemon."

Asterbury shrugged. "I think we all know everyone's fuckin' those things."

"He's right," Valyrym said. "I've seen that artwork."

"Oh, lord." The Coyote ground his palms into his eyes. "I've got to get you off the internet. And it's not bee Rabbit, it's B Rabbit."

Asterbury swiveled his ears. "I don't hear a difference."

The Coyote rolled his eyes, pulling his phone out of his pocket. He pulled up the story's text so far, and showed it to the urd'thin. "See? B Rabbit. It's a character's name. He's a rapper, played by Eminem."

"A rapper played by an MnM?" Asterbury sucked in a breath. "That sounds amazing. Is it the MnMs from the commercial? I love those guys! And that green one, oooh, the things I'd let her do to me with a burlap sack and a wet hose..."

The Coyote leaned back against the sofa. "Let's just watch the damn movie." He waved his hand, using his Christmas magic to dry Valyrym's cushion, remove the stain, and refill his egg nog. "Try not to spill it this time, or I might give you back your elephant trunk."

Valyrym glared at him. "Hilarious, scavenger."

Asterbury leaned forward, looking over all the snacks arrayed on the table. In addition to the white chocolate popcorn, there was caramel popcorn too. Christmas cookies in all colors and shapes were arranged across silver trays. Tins of fudge and homemade candy sat alongside them. Bowls of chips and dip occupied another part of the table, along with cured meats, tins of smoked fish, deviled eggs, and other delightful holiday treats both sweet, and savory.

After a moment, the urd'thin scrunched his muzzle, and eased back, seemingly unsatisfied. "Where's the Christmas broccoli?"

The Coyote blinked. "The Christmas broccoli. There's no such...oh, wait." He shook his head. "We're not doing this bit again this-"

"There's no such thing as Christmas broccoli." Valyrym snorted, glaring at Asterbury.

Asterbury shook a finger at the dragon. "You're telling me, that in the long, long history of Christmas celebrations, no one has ever once eaten broccoli?"

The dragon shrugged. "Well, I'm sure someone has eaten broccoli on Christmas."

"There you go, then!" Asterbury slapped the table, rattling a few plates. "Bingo, Bango, Christmas Broccoli."

Valyrym shook his head. "Just because someone eats something on Christmas, doesn't automatically make it Christmas food."

"Don't encourage him, Val." The Coyote plucked a green-iced sugar cookie from the table, and took a bite. "He did this bit with me like, two stories ago."

"See what I mean, dragon?" Asterbury thumped the Coyote on the arm. "A real Christmas Crap, right in his dumpster."

The Coyote rubbed his forehead. "Will you give it a rest? There's no such thing as a Christmas Crap."

Asterbury shook a finger at the Coyote. "You're telling me, in the long, long history of Christmas celebrations, no one's ever taken a crap?"

The Coyote shrugged. "I think almost everyone does at least once on Christmas."

"There you go, then!" Asterbury slapped the table, rattling a few plates. "Bingo, Bango, Christmas crap!"

The Coyote shook his head. "Just because you take a crap on Christmas, doesn't make it a Christmas crap."

"Of course it does!" Asterbury pressed his hands together. "For, it's that one special crap a year when-"

"No! Bad Asterbury!" The Coyote slapped him across the muzzle. "That's for making me do that stupid bit again."

The urd'thin yelped, rubbing his muzzle. He glared at the Coyote, narrowing his eyes. "Yeah, you're right. This story's the real Christmas crap."

Valyrym stretched his neck to pluck a few slices of salami off a tray. "I thought we were watching a movie?"

"I've been trying to for four thousand words!" The Coyote picked up the remote, flipping through various streaming services. "Anyway, I figured it would be easier if we just watched a movie this year, instead of some kind of..." He waggled the remote. "Zany holiday adventure, or..." He glanced at Asterbury. "Horribly bloody, botched rescue mission."

Asterbury slowly shook his head. "Those poor nameless NPCs. Born to enjoy the holidays, only to experience unimaginable suffering for a cheap laughs."

Valyrym heaved a low sigh. "Just like my poor cousin Roy."

The Coyote glanced down, ears drooping. "Right in the meat grinder."

Asterbury perked back up. "Anyway, what are we watching?"

"A holiday classic!"

The urd'thin scowled. "It's not that one with the guy who kills himself to win a bet with an angel, is it?"

The Coyote blinked at him. "Uhh...no?"

"Good, cause I hate that one." Asterbury picked up a piece of fudge, and popped it into his muzzle. "Though, I did like that bank robbing scene."

"Are...are you talking about It's A Wonderful Life?"

Asterbury shook his head. "Doesn't ring a bell."

The Coyote curled his lip. "Are you sure? Cause bells ringing is kind of a central theme in that movie."

"A movie about ringing bells?" Asterbury took a cookie. "Yeah, sounds like a real page turner."

"That's books, you yeti's dingleberry." The Coyote found the service he was looking for, and brought it up.

"A book about ringing bells? That sounds even worse!" Asterbury took a bite of his cookie, and gestured with the rest. "Anyway, this one was about some guy who jumps off a bridge cause an angel dared him too. Also, everyone pulls a smash and grab on this bank. And it's really old, from back when your world was in black and white."

The Coyote sighed. "That's definitely It's a Wonderful Life. I think you were just too drunk-"

"You mean high on meth!" Asterbury finished off his cookie.

The Coyote grit his teeth. "Too high on meth to understand what was actually happening. And our world was never in black and white. That was just-"

"Yes it was!" Asterbury waved at the television. "I've seen it in your movies. Your whole reality was in black and white, up until that girl with the robot enforcer, the lion sex slave, and that villain from Batman melted that goth chick with a vat of acid!"

The Coyote stared at him, slack jawed. "Are you talking about the Wizard of Oz?"

"That's the one!" Asterbury snapped his fingers. "Starring Ozzy Osbourne as the goth chick!"

"You know what?" The Coyote turned away. "Never mind. No, we're not watching either of those. We're watching-"

"The one with Tim Allen?"

"No, not The Santa Clause." The Coyote scrolled through lists of Christmas movies.

"I didn't say Santa Claus, I said Tim Allen." Asterbury rubbed his hands together. "Ever since we framed him for the real Santa's murder, I've been itching to see that documentary on his backstory!"

"I'm...starting to wonder if you understand what movies are." The Coyote quickly decided it didn't matter. "But no, not that one. It was suggested, but there was one other movie I really wanted to see again. It's an absolute, all time holiday classic-"

Asterbury gasped. "Starship Troopers?!"

"What?" The Coyote lowered the remote. "No. How in the hell is Starship Troopers a holiday classic?"

"It's got giant sexy bugs, murdering people!" Asterbury leaned a little closer, purring at the coyote. "That's my kinda Christmas."

"Get the fuck away from me!" The Coyote shoved him back across the sofa.

"Besides," Asterbury said, grinning. "Look at your Christmas stories! There's literally one where we fight off an entire army of non-trademarked, non-copywrite infringing Deadies! I slice monsters up with a chain saw! It's gory as hell." The urd'thin shrugged, leaning back. "I just assumed bloody carnage was part of your world's Christmas traditions!"

"Hell no!" The Coyote shook his head, then paused. "Well...historically...actually, no. Let's not go there. Anyway-"

"More importantly," Asterbury said. "People watch Starship Troopers on Christmas. Therefor, Christmas movie."

"No, they don't." The Coyote shook his head. "No one watches that on Christmas."

Asterbury shook a finger at the dragon. "You're telling me, that in the long, long history of Christmas celebrations, no one has ever once watched Starship Troopers?"

The Coyote shrugged. "Well, I'm sure someone has watched Starship Troopers on Christmas."

"There you go, then!" Asterbury slapped the table, rattling a few plates. "Bingo, Bango, Christmas movie."

"Goddamn it, Asterbury." The Coyote grumbled under his breath. "I can't believe you made me copy and paste that entire bit, again."

"And I can't believe you're so easily baited into it, year after year!" Asterbury cackled.

"And I can't believe it's not butter," said Valyrym.

Asterbury put a hand to the side of his muzzle, whispering to the coyote. "I know who's gonna get fisted by Fabio next."

"Now there's a holiday movie," The Coyote said, unable to help a slightly drunken laugh in real life. "Fisted By Fabio!"

Valyrym laughed with him. "That sounds like something from your April Fools stories. Probably right before Korvarak appeared." He flattened back his ears, nervously glancing around. "Wait...that version of him isn't in these stories, right?"

"No, no." The Coyote waved off his concerns. "The Christmas stories have their own separate continuity. When Korvarak shows up, it's basically just the canon version of him, Christmas-ified. The April Fools version is..." He scrunched his muzzle. "A joke that just won't die, at this point."

Suddenly, Korvarak appeared. "Did someone say, surprise buttsex?"

"No!" The Coyote growled, making a shooing gesture. "Literally no one said that. It's December."

"Oh." Korvarak glanced around. "I'm in the wrong holiday. My bad." He lowered his head, hissing at Asterbury. "I'll see you in April, bitch."

Asterbury sat up straight. "Sure thing, Mister Korvarak!"

Korvarak disappeared.

Valyrym glared at The Coyote. "You were saying?"

The Coyote only rolled his eyes. "Pretty sure that candied nutball's doing." He jerked his thumb at Asterbury. "Anyway, let's all pretend like I didn't write that in at 1am cause it seemed funny when I'd had a few beers and was half asleep."

"Fine, fine." Asterbury reached for the remote, only for The Coyote to snatch it away. "So what _are_we watching? Fisted By Fabio?"

"That is not now, nor will it ever be, a real movie." The Coyote held the remote out of Asterbury's reach, scrolling through the movie selection until he found the one he was waiting for. "No, we're watching..." He waited for the movie to pop up on screen, before loudly announcing it. "The Smash Hit Holiday Classic, Jingle All The Way!"

"Holy shit!" Asterbury sat up, his jaws hanging open. "Is this the one you've been referencing with Ayly for years?"

"It sure is!"

Valyrym cocked his head. "The one where The Terminator fights an army of criminal Santas?"

The Coyote grinned. "The very same."

"This is practically Ayly's favorite movie!"

The Coyote chuckled. "Yeah, I'll never quite understand that. But for some reason, she really-"

"I want the Turbo Man Action Figure with the arms and legs that move!" A little hatchling suddenly sprinted out of another room. The tiny black, purple and blue dragon shouted dialogue at the top of her lungs, making the most of her brief yearly appearance. "And the boomerang sword and the rock and roller jetpack and the realistic voice activator that says FIVE different phrases including..." She skidded to a halt, calling out in a deeper voice. "ITS TURBO TIME!" She leapt up onto the sofa, flopping down alongside her grandfather. "Accessories sold separately, batteries not included."

The Coyote passed Ayly a plate of cookies. "Here you go, Ayls. You're welcome to watch the movie with us, of course, as long as you don't repeat any of our foul language."

Ayly stared up at him over the cookies. "Only big me says swears now."

"Oh, right." The Coyote scratched his ear. "I forgot all that timeline shit from the last few stories left us with two Ayly's."

Outside the house, a gigantic Ayly pushed her head in through a window. "Yo, wassup muthafuckas?" Her booming voice rattled glass. "Aww, fuck ya! Ya'll watchin' Jingle All The Way? That shit is my jam!"

"Hi, big me!" Ayly waved her paw up at her towering, adult doppelganger.

"Yo, whassup little me." Big Ayly smashed her foreleg through the coyote's wall to wave back. "It's Turbo Time, yo!"

"You know, Scavenger." Asterbury turned towards the Coyote. "Sometimes, I get the feeling you're a little weird."

"Let's just watch the movie." The Coyote hit the play button, and soon, the opening credits were scrolling across the screen.

Asterbury tilted his head. "I thought this was a Christmas movie? Why's the font look like a C-tier cable access superhero movie?"

The Coyote grinned. "You'll see. Oh." He hit pause. "Before we really get into it, I should tell you that when I say..." He made air quotes. "Smash hit holiday classic." He made quotes again. "I actually mean, box office bomb that's so bad it's good, and has slowly turned into a cult classic. Also..." The Coyote turned directly to the reader. "If you haven't seen it, feel free to fire it up if you've got Disney Plus or anything else that offers it for free, and watch it while you read the story. Or after! That's..." He laughed. "Literally how I wrote some of this crap."

"Yeah! Watch it..." Asterbury thrust his fingers directly at the readers' faces, poking one of them in the eye. "In 3D!"

The Coyote slapped Asterbury across the head. "I keep telling you, that doesn't work in text!"

"Does too!" Asterbury wiped his finger off on the Coyote's fur. "I got eye goo all over my finger."

"Gross." The Coyote scrunched his muzzle. "Also, whoever just got their eye poked out? Be very careful with your legal documents. You do not want to threaten to sue Asterbury's pants off. Or..." He thought about it a moment, then shrugged. "Or maybe you do."

"Coyote!" Ayly threw half a cookie at him. "It's Turbo Time!"

"Alright, alright. Movie time." He brushed crumbs from his fur, glancing at the little hatchling. "Oh, and Ayly, I'll be finishing this story tomorrow, so... I'll probably forget you were here."

Ayly gasped and put a paw over her muzzle. "Just like Grandfather's story!"

"Ouch, Ayly." The Coyote put a hand over his heart. "Right in the soul!"

"Aww, it's okay, Scavenger." Asterbury patted his arm. "Everyone knows Coyotes don't _have_souls."

"Funny." The Coyote hit play again. "That's okay, though. Neither does this movie."

The movie started, and before long, there were sweeping vistas of red-stone cliffs. Then, a badly costumed superhero named Turbo Man, and his villainous nemesis Dementor arrived. And then-

"Holy shit!" Asterbury pointed at the Television. "A fursuiter!"

"That's Booster," The Coyote said, gesturing at pink-furred character. "That's Turbo Man's highly unpopular side kick."

"Booster, huh?" Asterbury rubbed his muzzle. "So he's what, a pink furred dog in a golden diaper?"

The Coyote burst out laughing. "Basically."

"Huh..." Asterbury snatched The Coyote's phone away. "I better check e621, this guy's gonna check a lotta boxes for a few people."

Valyrym tilted his head. "So, Turbo Man is the hero? Why is he fighting the power rangers?" On the screen, the armored hero was battling a motley crew of color-coded minions. "They all look what would happen if Asterbury fucked six different crayons!"

"Already galfway there, dragon!" Asterbury glanced up at the screen just in time to see the villain perform his signature movie.

"Ta-Ta, Turbo Man!" Dementor's fist exploded from his arm, flying through the air like a rocket. It struck Turbo Man in the face, knocking him flying.

"Oooh, did ya see that?" Asterbury cackled. "He's really fisting Turbo man!"

Turbo Man soon recovered, and fired up his jetpack to go save some random child. As he flew into the air, he shouted his signature phrase. "It's Turbo Time!"

Asterbury laughed even harder. "Is that what he says when he wants Dementor to fist him faster?"

The Coyote splayed his ears, glancing at the urd'thin. "Should I be concerned with your focus on fisting this year?"

"Concerned? No." Asterbury walked his fingers up the coyote's leg. "But you could be curious..."

The Coyote slapped his hand away. "Not only no, but Presidential Veto no!"

Asterbury pulled his arm back, huffing. "Oh, fine, you mangy shindig shitter."

The Coyote blinked. "I think you mean, party pooper."

"Oh, excuse me, Mister Poop Expressions." Asterbury sighed. "You're such a shit on the floor, sometimes!"

The canine only glared at him. "And you really fry my bacon."

Valyrym pushed his head closer to the Coyote. "People still don't say that, Scavenger."

"Fuck a doodle doo!" Asterbury pointed at the TV again. "It's the Governor of California!"

The Coyote splayed his ears. "Gavin Newsom?" He looked around. "Where? I don't remember inviting him."

"No, the Terminator!"

"Ooooh." The Coyote returned his attention to the movie. "Yeah, it's kind of insane that he became a governor. So, in this movie, Arnold Schwarzenegger plays a mattress salesman."

"You mean he retired from Terminating people, became the Governor, and he kept his day job?" Asterbury gave a low whistle. "What a man of the people!"

"Again, I'm..." The Coyote helped himself to the white chocolate popcorn. "Not entirely sure you understand how movies work."

Ayly slapped her paw against the sofa, doing her best Arnold impression. "You're my number one customer!"

"Yeah." The Coyote rubbed his muzzle. "He says that a lot."

"Hah!" Asterbury clapped his hands. "He said to his wife by accident! Now that's comedy!"

Valyrym glanced over. "Is it, though?"

"Oh, look! It's Phil Hartman!" The Coyote pointed out the actor. "You may remember him from such roles as... Troy McClure, and... Lionel Hutz."

"And now," Asterbury said. "I remember him from such roles...this Douchebag who wants to bang Arnold's wife."

"Yeah." The Coyote flattened his ears. "One of his final roles, actually. Kinda sad."

The movie went on, with Arnold realizing he'd forgotten all about his son's karate pageant, or whatever. Pageant? Tournament? Mortal Kombat? Whatever. The kid's doing karate stuff, and his dad's always missing it. On the way there, he gets pulled over, and mouths off to the cop, and so of course, he ends up missing the kid's Mortal Kombat tournament. Pretty sad, too. Little Timmy performs his first fatality, and everything. Blood everywhere. Mom cheers. They let him keep the spine as a trophy! I forgot what the kid's name was, so he's just Arnold's Kid now.

"Oh, shit," The Coyote said, suddenly reading something on Wikipedia. "The kid who played Arnold's kid is Jake Lloyd."

"That social media jerk who always wants to fight everyone?"

"No, that's Jake Paul. This is Jake Lloyd."

Valyrym looked down. "The guy who played Uncle Fester and Doc Brown?"

"No." The Coyote shook his head. "That's Christopher Lloyd. This is Jake Lloyd." When no one else offered up any more inane suggestions, The Coyote went on. "He played Anakin Skywalker in Phantom Menace. He's baby darth vader."

"Oooh, so baby Darth Vader is obsessed with Turbo Man?" Asterbury mimed swinging a lightsaber around. "Now I wanna hear Darth Vader say..." His voice shifted into a perfect imitation of James Earl Jones. "It's Turbo Time! Fist me faster, Dementor!"

The Coyote pinched the bridge of his muzzle. "I'm gonna have to put you on time out, aren't I."

Back in the movie, they kept cutting to a shot of Arnold's kid in his karate pageant, glancing at the doors that lead onto the stage.

"Why does he keep looking at the stage doors?" The Coyote ate a handful of popcorn, gesturing with another. "Like, I get that the implication is he's waiting to see if his dad shows up. But why the fuck would his dad come through the stage doors? Is Arnold supposed to burst out on stage and fist fight all the kids? Holy shit, is that how they have to earn their belts? They have to fight the Terminator for real?"

Asterbury cackled. "The Terminator, beating the shit out of children? Now that sounds like a Bob's Burger's Christmas classic!"

"Actually..." The Coyote munched on another handful of treats. "Yeah, that does kinda sound like a weird Bob's Burgers episode."

Before long, the kid was home, and Arnold was apologizing to his son for missing his first fatality. Arnold's son tries to explain why this one karate pageant among many is somehow more important than the others.

"Purple is important to me, dad," said Arnold's kid, with all the deep emotion to be expected from little Anakin Skywalker. "Podracing is also important to me! Purple and podracing, those are the two things that are important to me. Also Turbo Man. And, I guess mom, or whatever. But not you, cause you're a real piece of shit. I'm only learning karate so I can kill you. But mostly purple is important to me! Because purple is a fruit, and also, purple is what color your face is gonna be when I'm done punching you! And, also, purple is one away from green, and three away from black!"

"So, kid," Valyrym said, staring at the TV. "Purple doesn't really sound that important. Just tell your deadbeat dad to show up for Green. Or better yet, black."

"Deadbead dad?" Asterbury leaned around The Coyote to sneer at the dragon. "Interesting choice of words, coming from you."

"I was in prison!" Valyrym snarled at him.

"And prison is full of deadbeats!" Asterbury's ear twitched, and he glanced back at the movie. "Wait, did that kid just say he wrote a letter to Santa?" He shook his head, clucking his tongue. "Ooh, he's gonna get murdered by Tim Allen! No, wait!" He clapped his hands once. "Framed for murder. No, wait... that only happens in our universe."

Ayly lifted her head. As Arnold's kid told Arnold what he wanted for Christmas, Ayly spoke with him. So did Big Ayly, leading a near-deafening cacophony to otherwise crass commercial dialogue.

"I want the Turbo Man Action Figure with the arms and legs that move, and boomerang sword and the rock and roller jetpack and the realistic voice activator that says FIVE different phrases including, ITS TURBO TIME!" Windows shook, plates rattled, and The Coyote clapped his hands over his ears. "Accessories sold separately, batteries not included."

"Oooh, so _that's_what you've been referencing for the last half a decade." Asterbury folded his hands behind his head. "And...why is that supposed to be funny again?"

The Coyote slowly pulled his hands away form his head. "Fuck if I know. The point is, the kid wants it real bad. And Arnold apparently already promised his wife he'd buy it for him, like, two weeks ago, but totally forgot." The Coyote tapped his head. "I'm pretty sure he's got holes in his memories from all the steroids."

"Oh, is what the problem?" Asterbury thumped his head back against the cushion a few times. "I just thought he'd banged the memories out of his head, from fucking on all those mattresses!"

"What?" The Coyote made a face. "No, he's a mattress salesman. Or manufacturer. Or whatever. He's not a hooker."

Asterbury flicked his tail. "Well, how else is he going to demonstrate how good his mattresses are? He's gotta fuck all his customers on them!"

Back in the movie, Arnold and Arnold's Kid hug, after Arnold promises to buy him a toy. Truly, a great lesson for children everywhere. If your parents don't buy you the toys you want, they literally don't love you. The next day, Arnold's Kid is eating Turbo Man cereal.

"Is that kid pouring a box of tiny pancakes?"

"Kinda looks like it." The Coyote chuckled. "That's...actually not a bad idea for a breakfast cereal. Surprised no one's done that yet."

Arnold goes out to search for the Turbo Man toy, rumored to be sold out everywhere. Outside, he sees Phil Hartman, with a reindeer.

"What is that?" Arnold stares, slackjawed. "A reindeer?"

"Yes!" The Coyote threw his hands up. "It's a fucking reindeer. Anyone with half an eye, and a quarter of a brain can tell it's a reindeer. God, his brain really is gone in this movie."

"Maybe he's still in Total Recall," Asterbury said.

"Oh, that would be amazing. If this whole thing turned out to be a stealth sequel to Total Recall?" The Coyote passed Valyrym the white chocolate popcorn. "They put him in a crappy Christmas movie to keep him passive, but he slowly starts watching the world crumble around him? And then-"

"And then he says, Kohagen!" Asterbury threw his hands up. "Give these people my peenees!"

The Coyote groaned. "You really are a one trick pony, aren't you."

Asterbury gave him a funny look. "Well, how many dicks should a pony have? I'll willing to accept a two-dick pony, but a three dick pony is right out."

"I'm going to ignore that entirely."

Valyrym gestured at the television with a wing. "What's with the reindeer, anyway?"

"Oh, right." The Coyote licked his nose. "So, Phil Hartman bought it for his kid, I think? They're gonna keep it in the backyard over Christmas, and then Phil's gonna go release it by some lake. Hah! Look, it tried to bite Arnold. Hilarious!"

"Uh huh..." Valyrym stared at the Coyote for a long moment of silence. "Dare I ask, are there _any_laughs in this movie?"

The Coyote shrugged. "Maybe a few."

"It's gonna get icy later," Phil Hartman said, as Arnold pulled away in his car. "You might wanna wrap some chains around those tires."

"More like I should wrap some chains around you."

Valyrym chuckled, just a little.

"See?" The Coyote grinned. "That was a laugh."

Asterbury rubbed his hands. "Ooh, kinky! Governor Terminator can chain me up, anytime he wants."

The Coyote grimaced. "Goddamn it, Asterbury." The movie progressed, and soon Arnold was in line for a toy store's opening, with a familiar face behind him. "Oh, look! That's Sinbad!"

Asterbury gasped. "That guy from the lamp?!"

"What?" The Coyote blinked, shaking his head. "No, that's not even the right-"

"With all the voyages?"

"Well, yes, Sinbad the Sailor is the character from the Seven Voyages, but-"

"I dunno," Asterbury said, scrutinizing the screen. "He doesn't look much like a sailor. Kinda looks like a mailman."

"He is a mailman."

"Oh." Asterbury snorted. "That explains why they had to fancy him up and make him a sailor for the remake."

The Coyote stared at him, then reached over, and grasped Asterbury in both arms. "Yah YEET!" He hurled Asterbury straight up through the ceiling.

Asterbury squealed like Goofy falling over a cliff. "Ah yaa haa haa hooooey!"

"About damn time," Valyrym said. "Is anything important happening in this movie? I can't really hear it over your forced banter with the urd'thin."

The Coyote grit his teeth. "It's not that forced. And... no, nothing really important happens in this whole movie. Although, Sinbad's totally unhinged rant here is pretty on-brand for 2021. He's raving about how the big toy cartels and advertising media are using subliminal messages to force us to buy their products. And then..." The Coyote laughed. "He ends it by saying, he knows what he's talking about because he did a semester of Junior College."

The dragon rumbled his amusement. "You're right. That actually sounds like way too many people in your world, today."

"No shit." The toy store doors opened, and before long, Arnold and Sinbad were fighting a flood of other customers to get to the best toys. Alas, there were no Turbo Men 'dolls' to be found.

The author found it weird that they kept calling it a doll. It's an action figure, right? Not that the author cares who plays with dolls or action figures or anything. Play with whatever you want, everyone. Just seems a weird thing to call that particular toy. The other author also found it weird he was suddenly calling himself the author. But hey, it was like, super late, and he was pretty tired. And who really cares, right? His story, his rules, it's his party and he'll cry if he wants too.

Hah, bet you thought this story wouldn't have any of these moments where the author totally loses his mind. Well, I got news for you, kid. Around here?

You gotta keep _both_eyes open.

Alia L Jackson, out.

Oh, side note, the author totally saw Santa the other day. He was riding atop a fire truck! That was totally bangin'. That's what the kids say these days, right? Totally bangin'? A slammin' jammin' salmon mammon crammin' Santa? He's pretty sure that's how the kids talk. If not it should be, cause that shit was off the Chizzy.

"Are you having a stroke, Coyote?" Valyrym nudged the canine.

The Coyote shrugged. "Probably. Oh look, Chris Parnell! Apparently, this was his first ever role."

"Who?" The dragon tilted his head. "Put it in terms of characters I'll know."

The Coyote scowled, but did so. "He's the voice of Jerry, from Rick and Morty."

"Wait, _that's_Jerry?" Valyrym stared at him, incredulous. "Jerry, the biggest loser in the entire series, just got a whole store full of people to laugh at them? Wow, talk about a low point in your life. If that was me?" The dragon shook his head. "I'd find a really tall bridge and-"

"Valyrym, no!"

"Throw that guy off of it." He gestured at the screen.

"Oh." The Coyote grinned. "Acceptable." He reached for the snack table, and picked up a cookie.

Just then, Asterbury crashed back down through the roof, landing in a pile of rubble. He popped back up, broken bones protruding through rent flesh. He waggled a newly Z-shaped arm at the coyote, speaking up in a perfect imitation of Arnold Schwarzenegger. "Put that cookie down! Now!"

"Ah!" The Coyote dropped the cookie. "Gross!"

"Yeah, disgusting." Valyrym scrunched up his muzzle. "It's Asterbury."

"I know!" The Coyote scooted closer to the dragon. "He's revolting."

"Oh, nonsense." Asterbury waved a shattered hand in front of himself, and his body knit back together. "We're all best friends!" He hopped back up onto the sofa. "What'd I miss?"

Valyrym shrugged his wings. "The Coyote's mind collapsed for a few moments. Then Jerry from Rick and Morty got everyone to laugh at Arnold."

"Yowch!" Asterbury got comfortable, eyes fixed on the TV. "Are they in a mall now?"

"Yeah, they went to the Mall of America, which-"

"Is that a roller coaster!?" Asterbury leaned forward, jaw hanging open. "Inside the mall?"

"Sure is!" The Coyote smiled. "I used to live near that place. The Mall of America has an entire amusement park inside it!"

"Wow!" Asterbury licked his muzzle. "It's like the foxes, of malls!"

"Hah!" The Coyote barked laughter. "Furry joke. Nice."

Asterbury watched the movie for a moment. "So, if I'm following. Every store's totally sold out of Turbo Man, but they all have plenty of Booster figures left?"

"Yeah." The Coyote nodded. "Booster's insanely unpopular in this movie. Everyone literally hates him."

"Aww, poor Booster." Asterbury slowly shook his head. "No wonder he hung himself with that neon pink noose."

The Coyote cringed. "Oh, come on. That's not funny."

"What, would you rather I made a joke about not enough people getting the Covid Booster, instead?"

"Ugh." The canine rubbed his muzzle, groaning. "Tell me about it."

Valyrym nudged The Coyote with a wing. "What's with all the buckets?"

"Oh, so the store's doing a lottery." The Coyote picked up a cookie, gesturing with it. "People pick a ball with a number on it, and then a few numbers win a Turbo Man. Only..."

In the movie, the crowds rushed the employees. The workers panicked, and hurled their buckets into the air. Balls flew everywhere. Just, lots and lots of balls. Balls everywhere. Soon, Arnold and Sinbad were both taking balls to the face. Lots, and lots of balls to the face. That is literally a thing that happens in this movie.

"Boy, Arnold's sure taking a lotta balls to the face!" Asterbury cackled gleeful laughter. "It's just like my last birthday party!"

Soon, Arnold and Sinbad were fighting over each other's balls. They were wrestling and rolling around on the floor, grasping and grabbing for each other's balls. Then, Sinbad maced Arnold, and snatched his ball. He took off running with it.

At that point, Arnold pointed him out, and yelled, "He has two balls!"

Asterbury giggled. "Well, I certainly hope he does!"

Sinbad was then tackled by a mob for having two balls.

Valyrym stretched his neck towards the urd'thin. "I think the Coyote's having way too much fun describing this movie."

The Coyote shrugged. "These are actually pretty accurate descriptions. And...now that Sinbad's been tackled, one of his balls popped free and is rolling across the floor."

Valyrym and Asterbury both cringed. "Ouch."

"And Arnold is chasing down Sinbad's lost ball."

"Okay." Valyrym held up a paw. "Real question about this movie's plot. Those lottery spheres have a number, right? Do they know that one Arnold is chasing is a _winning_number?"

"You know what?" The Coyote scratched his ear. "I actually have no idea. Kind of a plot hole, really." As Arnold chased the lottery sphere throughout the mall, the Coyote watched the background scenery. His tail wagged. "I actually remember some of those stores! We used to go to that mall a lot, and - Holy shit, why is that girl dressed like Chucky?"

"Oh, she is!" Asterbury laughed, shaking his head. "I was gonna say she looks like Problem Child, but you're right, she's totally Chucky." He shuddered. "Creepy."

"What?" The Coyote glanced over, then shook his head. "Nah, she doesn't look anything like Problem Child. For one, Problem Child wears a bow tie. And his name's not Problem Child, it's-"

"Chucky, I know!"

"No, those are _very_different characters."

"They are?" Asterbury gave a mock gasp. "So, some people actually don't write the same character, over and over?"

"Hah hah, you little reindeer fucker." The Coyote ate another cookie. "I know what you're trying to say, but Chucky and Junior Healy have literally nothing to do with each other."

The urd'thin tilted his head. "Who the hell's Junior Healy?"

"He's problem child."

"I thought his name was Chucky?"

"No, Chucky is..." The Coyote paused, narrowing his eyes. "I swear to the real Santa, if you turn this into a Who's On First routine, I'm gonna snap your neck till your head flops back like a pez dispenser."

In the movie, the girl dressed like Chucky found the lottery sphere. Arnold followed her into a ball pit.

"Oh, bad move," Valyrym said. "You do not follow Chucky into that thing. Any second now, she's going to emerge and slice his hamstring."

"Merry Christmas!" Asterbury swing his hand through the air as if swinging a knife. "It's a horrible disfigurement!"

A few moments later, and an angry mother was beating Arnold with her purse, calling him a variety of names, and telling him to get away from her child. Arnold's response left the coyote laughing, but perhaps not for the intended reasons.

"Okay, Arnold, when some lady's calling you a sicko and a pervert while she chases you away from her kid?" He shrugged. "Maybe don't tell her that you...ahem. Only wanted a ball."

Valyrym stretched his neck, peering at Asterbury. "Is it me, or has the scavenger's depiction of this film taken a rule turn for the ball-focused these last few pages?"

"What?" Asterbury put a hand to his chest, giving a mock gasp. "The Scavenger has a fixation with balls? Well, I'm shocked! Shocked, I tell you! Well, not that shocked."

The Coyote snorted, folding his arms. "Oh, shut the hell up. You two stole that joke from my fox-cat friend, anyway."

In the movie, Arnold eventually gave up on getting the lottery ball back. On his way out of the mall, he's beckoned over by a mall santa, and his elf helper. They quietly ask him if he's looking for a Turbo Man, and then produce a photo of the elf holding one, along with the day's newspaper.

"Are you kidding me?" The Coyote included an action tag here. "They're literally holding a toy hostage, with a proof of life photo and everything! Wait..." He action tagged a second time in the same dialogue section. "Is that Mall Santa played by Jim Belushi?"

Valyrym jerked his head up. "The Blues Brothers? I know that one!"

"No." The Coyote shook his head. "That was his brother, Jo-"

"That's what I said!" Valyrym flicked his tail. "The Blues Brothers!"

"No, Valyrym." The Coyote waved at the screen. "This is Jim Belushi. You're thinking of John Belushi. They're brothers."

"Exactly!" Asterbury pointed at the dragon. "Just what he said! The Blues Brothers!"

"No!" The Coyote growled, balling up his fists. "Jim Belushi is not in the Blues Brothers! That was his real life brother, John Belushi. A different person."

Valyrym tilted his head. "But isn't Jim short for John?"

"No!" The Coyote thumped his head back against the sofa, groaning. "Gods, you two idiots make me wanna tear my ears off."

"That's not very Christmasy." Valyrym reached for the snacktable, picking up a few sugar coated gumdrops. "You could just stick these in your ears, instead."

Asterbury glanced over. "Oh, I love those things. Every year at Christmas, I take a handful of them, and stick them up my-"

The Coyote backhanded Asterbury across the muzzle before he could finish that sentence.

"OW!" The Urd'thin jumped, yelped, and grabbed his muzzle. "Think I just let one escape..." He squirmed in place a moment, then glanced at the TV. "So that's him, right? Jim James John Belushi, of the Blues Brothers, the famous, color-based serial killers."

"I don't even know where to begin with that. But..." The Coyote finished off his egg nog, then magicked himself up some more. "That elf is totally played by Mickey, from Seinfeld."

"Kramer's friend?"

"That's the one!"

"So, you think Jim James John Belushi is about to get stuck in a really tight pair of jeans, and have to walk down the street like Frankenstein?"

The Coyote splayed his ears. "No. No, I don't."

"And, am I the only one who got a boner from that scene?"

The Coyote slowly turned his head to stare at Asterbury. "Yes. Yes, I am one hundred percent sure that in all the vast, wide world, you are literally the only person who ever got an erection from watching Kramer walk like Frankenstein because his jeans were too tight."

Back in the movie, it wasn't long before Arnold was driving with Jim James John Belushi the Mall Santa and Mickey From Seinfeld the Elf. They arrived at a derelict part of town, with a fence and gate guarded by another Mall Santa. He let them in, and soon, they entered a warehouse absolutely full of Mall Santas, Elves, and Mrs Clauses, all inventorying stolen goods and counting money.

The Coyote's eyes widened. "They have an entire underground society of criminal, black market dealing Mall Santas?" He scrunched his muzzle in thought. "Okay, this part's actually completely believable." He laughed to himself. "Also, side note, but this scene in the real movie's actually pretty great."

"So, you're saying there's a tiny polished diamond hidden in there somewhere, but you gotta dig through an entire turd to try and find it?" Asterbury cackled. "Just like this story, Scavenger!"

"Pretty much."

Arnold was charged $300 for a Turbo Man, which of course he had waiting in his wallet. However, the Turbo Man was already wrapped. So when he opened it, he soon discovered it was counterfeit. It spoke the wrong language, and immediately fell apart. And no sooner did he accuse the Santas and Elves of being greedy con men, than they all decided to fight him. Which leads directly into the movie's best, and weirdest, scene.

Arnold Schwarzenegger fighting an entire army of Mall Santas and Mall Elves. This whole scene is so dumb, and so weirdly entertaining, it's worth the price of admission alone. It's also worth noting, that this movie is streaming for free if you're a Disney + subscriber so...price of admission ain't exactly steep.

"Does that Santa have Candy Cane nunchucks?" Asterbury gaped at the awe-inspiring weirdness on screen. "Let's see....a league of Evil Santas, candy cane nunchucks, balls flying everywhere... I'm starting to think you wrote this, Scavenger."

"No." Valyrym tossed his head, grinning. "If he wrote this, people would be getting hit in the balls, not chasing after them."

Soon, a true giant of a Santa emerges, towering above the rest. "I'm gonna deck your halls, Bub."

"Holy shit, is that Jesse Ventura?"

Asterbury glanced at the Coyote. "The guy from Predator?"

"Well, I was gonna say, the future Governor of Minnesota."

Valyrym snorted. "They made the Predator the Governor?"

"No, Val." The Coyote chuckled. "Jesse Ventura didn't play the Predator."

"Yeah," Asterbury said. "That was Arnold Schwarzenegger!"

The dragon sucked in a breath. "So the Predator now rules the entire nation of California?"

The Coyote opened his mouth to explain otherwise...then decided better. "You know what? Sure. The Predator rules the Nation of California." He glanced at Wikipedia on his phone. "Oh, that's not Jesse Ventura anyway. It's the Big Show."

Asterbury furrowed his brow. "Which big show?"

"Right there." The Coyote pointed at him. "That giant Santa who just punched that elf so hard he flew through time and space."

"But we've been watching this big show the whole time, right?" Asterbury rubbed an ear.

"No, not the movie." The Coyote walked to the TV, and tapped on the screen. "This man's stage name is The Big Show. He's a wrestler."

Asterbury blinked. "His stage name is Jingle All The Way? That's a funny name for a wrestler."

The Coyote growled as he flopped back down on the sofa. "I really hate you sometimes-"

"Hah!" Asterbury made a jab motion with his hand. "Mickey From Sienfeld just tasered Arnold right in the ass!"

Valyrym slapped the couch with a paw. "Now that's comedy, Coyote! Take notes. Less high brow word play, more ass tasering."

"Very well." The Coyote tasered Valyrym right in the ass.

"OW!" Valyrym rocketed up out of his seat, smoke pouring from his ass like Mario after landing in lava. "He tasered me right in the ass!"

CUE LAUGH TRACK

"Hey Gang," Asterbury said, speaking up before anyone could stop him. "Remember that time Valyrym got tasered in the ass?"

CUE LAUGH TRACK

"Very well." The Coyote tasered Valyrym right in the ass.

"OW!" Valyrym rocketed up out of his seat, smoke pouring from his ass like Mario after landing in lava. "He tasered me right in the ass!"

"Hey Gang," Asterbury said, speaking up before anyone could stop him. "Remember that time Valyrym got tasered in the ass, and then landed on all those jellyfish?"

"Very well." The Coyote tasered Valyrym right in the ass.

"OW!" Valyrym rocketed up out of his seat, smoke pouring from his ass like Mario after landing in lava. "He tasered me right in the ass!"

CUE LAUGH TRACK

Valyrym plummeted back down onto a couch suddenly covered in jelly fish. He landed on all of them, and let out a yowl. "OW! Those jellyfish all tasered me right in the ass!"

CUE APPLAUSE AND CHEERS

The Coyote folded his hands behind his head, grinning. "Alright, now it's officially a Christmas story."

Back in the movie, the cops suddenly broke down the door. Mickey From Seinfeld saw them, and yelled a warning to the others. "It's the Grinch!"

The Coyote laughed, glancing at the notes on his phone. "Okay, that line actually made me laugh for real. That was pretty good."

Valyrym tilted his head as the movie continued. "So....Arnold's using a stolen police badge to pose as a cop, to escape. And, he decided to use his own name?" He glanced down at The Coyote. "This guy's a dumbass."

"He sure is, Valyrym," the Coyote said, grinning. "He sure is."

Everyone laughed for no reason. Their laughter lasted exactly 7.4 seconds, long enough for the Writer to take a drink of his beer. If anyone was wondering, he was drinking Prairie Ale's Christmas Bomb, an imperial stout brewed with holiday spices. It was quite good. He also had a bottle of his favorite St. Bernardus Christmas Ale set aside for the Big Day itself. Further addendum, the neighbor had brought over an assortment of homemade candy and fudge, that he was snacking on while writing. It too, was quite good.

"Huh..." The Coyote blinked, sitting up. "I...I think I just realized why I started burning out on these things a few years ago."

Valyrym glanced back and forth between The Coyote and the movie. "Is...is that relevant to the plot?"

The Coyote shook his head. "Not in the least. But I don't think it's because I stopped enjoying writing them. They always make me laugh. I always have fun with them. And when I read them back a year or three later?" The Coyote smiled, wagging his tail. "They make me laugh even harder. And it's...nice, sometimes, to get a window into my life, that year."

The Dragon speared a few slices of cheese, then popped them into his muzzle. "So, what's the problem?"

"The problem, I think," The Coyote said, thoughtfully sipping his egg nog. "Is that I'm tired of writing them on Christmas Eve. I always convince myself they'll be done earlier than that, and they rarely are. Right now, it's almost 11pm, and I'm still writing this thing. And I still got presents to wrap. I didn't start till late this month, cause I thought we'd just watch the movie, and that'd be it. But then I spent like, 8K words of us all dicking around before we even got_to the movie. Which was fun! But, realistically, I shoulda started it in early December. Huh..." He took another sip. "Gotta think about that. _If I remember next year...I oughta start writing it as soon as December rolls around, and try to get it done that first week or two. Cause...I think that's part of the problem. I get stuck grinding on them, Christmas Eve, when I really wanna be doing other stuff. Huh...interesting." He set his glass back down, rubbing his muzzle. "Good to know, for next year."

Asterbury nudged him with his elbow. "You wanna skip to the end?"

The Coyote shrugged. "Nah, not yet. Worst case scenario, I'll finish it tomorrow, or the day after, and just post it late. Anyway, what's happening in the movie?"

Asterbury picked up a piece of fudge. "Arnold's at some diner, now. Oh! Look at that old pay phone he's using! It's almost as old as you, Scavenger." He ate half the fudge, then nudged the coyote again. "Oh, my mistake. You're far older."

"Oh, there's that Sailor again." Valyrym squinted as Sinbad pulled a bottle of out of his mailman's coat, and poured it into his coffee. "Old homestead. Is...is that a real whiskey?"

"I dunno," Asterbury said. "But it sounds real cheap."

The Coyote cringed at the word play. "That was bad. But...I'll allow it."

Soon, Sinbad was pouring his heart out to Arnold. He lamented his own childhood, his anger at his father, and the gift he always wanted but never, ever got. Hoping for something that never arrived led him to his current life as a rundown, beat up, conspiracy spewing mailman who considered himself a real loser.

***

SMASH CUT TO UNDERAGE DRINKING

***

Arnold's child is suddenly seen, dressed like a mailman, and drinking straight out of a bottle of whiskey. Despite being like, seven years old. "Here's to you, Dad!"

"What the fuck?" The Coyote burst out laughing.

Valyrym glanced at the canine. "Are...are they allowed to show a child that young getting drunk in a Christmas movie?"

"I, uh..." The Coyote could only shrug. "I guess? I mean, it's supposed to be Arnold, envisioning what will become of his child. But the whole scene is just so...sudden and weird and dumb, it cracked me up for real. And probably not in the way they intended."

Then, in the movie, a commercial over the radio drew everyone's attention.

"So, you'd do anything to get a Turbo Man?"

"Yes!"

"Would you blow a man," asked the radio announcer.

The coyote nearly spit out his eggnog.

"Yes!" Asterbury said up, grinning.

"Would you...blow a reindeer?"

Asterbury tilted his head. "Again?"

"Would you blow _all_the reindeer?"

Asterbury waggled a finger at the TV. "Already have!"

The Coyote slapped him across the head. "Quit messing with the movie!"

Asterbury only cackled to himself. "Oh, like anyone's gonna be able to tell the difference!"

Soon, the movie had arrived at a radio station, where Arnold decided he needed that toy so bad that he literally kicked down the announcers door. Not long after that, Sinbad shows up, and decides that a Turbo Man toy is worth being charged with far higher crimes that trespassing and property damage. So, he pulls a package out of his mailbag, and tells everyone it's a bomb. He wants that toy so badly that he's willing to threaten to blow people up if he doesn't get it.

This is a real scene, from a real movie.

On a related note, Sinbad's actually great in the role of the unhinged postman. Anyway, Sinbad's bomb turns out to be-

"This movie?"

"Hah!" The Coyote glanced at Asterbury. "That's not bad. But no, it was just a music box."

"I'm confused," Valyrym said.

"Well, see back when this movie was made?" The Coyote took another handful of popcorn, then gestured at the screen. "The postal service workers used to have a reputation for going crazy. So-"

"Not about the movie." The dragon pointed at Asterbury. "About him. He just suddenly said, this movie, and somehow you knew what he meant."

"I'm reading his narration!"

The Coyote snorted. "He's cheating, as usual."

"I'm not cheating." Asterbury pulled out a phone. Several tiny stickers of a nude, Christmas-light bedecked Vatch adorned its case. "I'm reading the story! See, I just set my timezone to Australia, and it's the future down there! The story's already been posted."

Valyrym sucked in a breath. "That's how time works?"

The Coyote cringed. "No, but right now I'm way more worried about where he's keeping that phone. He's...not wearing anything but a Christmas sweater."

"He's magic." The dragon waved his paw. "He's probably got some kind of bottomless bag of holding."

Asterbury waggled his eyebrows. "Part of me does."

Arnold and Sinbad realize the radio announcer has already called the cops, so they both run out of his office. On the way, the police corner Sinbad. Arnold tries to take the stairs, only to run into the same cop who previously pulled him over for speeding. Oh, in another previous scene, Arnold also backed over his motorcycle. Honestly, repeatedly getting into worse and worse trouble with the same cop was pretty funny.

Sinbad ends up surrounded by like, a dozen cops all pointing their guns at him. He pulls another package out of his bag, and claims that it too, is a bomb. Do they shoot him? No, of course not, it's a family Christmas movie. They all put their guns down and he backs away into the elevator. Why they don't then arrest him, I have no idea. Sinbad and Arnold both escape, and then an explosion rocks the building behind them.

Yes, that time it was a _real_bomb. The hero of this family friendly Christmas Comedy is now an accomplice to a bombing attack on police officers. Merry Christmas, everyone!

Honestly who the fuck approved that, I've no idea.

Of course it's all played off as comedy, and no one dies, but the scene certainly reads differently in this day and age.

Wait, what am I doing? This isn't funny, this is just boring. So, uh...

The Narrator tasered Valyrym right in the ass.

"OW!" Valyrym rocketed up out of his seat, smoke pouring from his ass like Mario after landing in lava. "He tasered me right in the ass!"

Arnold decides attempted murder wasn't festive enough, and attempts to rob his neighbor's Christmas presents, instead. He knows Phil Hartman has a Turbo Man, and he also knows he's got a Phil Hardon for his wife. See what I did there? Now that's comedy! Anyway, he breaks into the guy's house, steals the present, sneaks out...and then realizes that murdering a dozen people is one thing, but stealing a kid's present is completely out!

Just then, the reindeer from earlier spots him. It breaks free and chases Arnold into the house, then rampages room to room. Decorations are trashed, an angel is set on fire, and eventually, Arnold kicks it out the window, scaring some carolers. All the while, the reindeer is trying to catch him.

"Boy," Asterbury said. "That reindeer really wants to fuck the Terminator!"

The Coyote chuckled. "Can you blame him?"

"Nah." Asterbury flashed the canine a grin. "I'd wanna fuck that reindeer too!"

Eventually, the horny reindeer gets so pent up he smashes down a door in his desperation to bend The Terminator over the hearth, and stuff the Governor's stocking. Arnold finally reminds the Reindeer that he's flattered, but married, and when that doesn't work, he punches the reindeer out.

"Just like Mongo punched out that horse in Blazing Saddles!"

The Coyote glanced at Valyrym. "Arnold only pawn, in game of life."

Before long, we see Arnold pouring beer into the Reindeer's bowl outside. Is that to make up for punching him? Or is it a post-sex drink? You decide.

After that, we cut to an in-progress parade that Arnold's Kid has been wanting to see for ages. Soon, we see the local newscasters high atop the observation booth.

"I'm Weatherman Gale Force," said one of the newscasters.

"Oh my god." The Coyote put his hand over his face. "Did the cast of Whose Line Is It Anyway right that joke? That's... the smartest joke in the movie." He lifted his face. "Also, the worst joke in the movie."

"Wait a minute." Asterbury narrowed his eyes. "This kid's been wanting to see this stupid parade with stupid Turbo Man for months, right? He's been talking about it all along? The mom knows he's dying to see the parade?"

The Coyote nodded.

"Then why the fuck do they show up so late? It looks like the parade's been going on for hours already. The mom had to know what time the damn parade started. Why are they surprised that the place is so packed?" Asterbury scratched the base of a horn. "Does this whole family routinely forget how time functions?"

"Sure seems that-"

"Holy shit, a fursuiter!" Asterbury pointed to a character in the parade. "This movie was really ahead of it's time, it's got two fursuiters."

The Coyote chuckled. "That's not a fursuiter."

"What is it, then?"

"Snoopy."

"I am not!" Asterbury scoffed, waving a hand. "I haven't gone near Vatch's diary in months!"

"No, _that's_Snoopy." The Coyote tried to point at the character, but Asterbury ignored him.

"It is not! I told you, it's been months since I...well, weeks." Just before the Coyote could speak, Asterbury amended himself. "Okay, days."

"No, I mean-"

"Alright, fine, this morning!"

"That's not-"

"Fine!" Asterbury tossed a book across the room. "I was reading Vatch's diary right now, but I promise! No more snooping! Just because we're married doesn't give me the right - Holy fuck!" Asterbury recoiled in horror at something in the parade scene. "What in all of Santa's giant bag of sex toys is that unholy green abomination?"

The Coyote tilted his head, one ear perked. "Gumby?"

"No, I don't want any damn gum." Asterbury scooted closer to the canine as if to hide behind him. "I want you to tell me what that horrible thing is!"

"That's Gumby."

"I am not grumpy, I'm terrified!" Asterbury tapped his chest. "Why would they put something so revolting in a holiday parade?!"

"That _character's_name is Gumby." The Coyote waved at him. "He's what kids had to watch on TV back when there was only one channel. All studios had to do to get people to watch was throw a vaguely phallic piece of green clay with eyes onto the TV."

Asterbury slowly eased away from the Coyote. "What is he, some kind of mutant supervillain?"

"Ah, no, he's a good guy, I think." The Coyote scratched his muzzle. "Pretty sure he had a pony, too. Oh, and Eddie Murphy played him on SNL." The Coyote lowered his voice. "I'm Gumby, damn it!"

Asterbury gave him a blank stare. "I don't get that reference. But - Wait, what the hell is _that_hideous thing?"

The Coyote turned his attention back to the parade. "The Cat in the Hat?"

"No, behind The Cat in the Hat!"

"The Cat In The Hat With the Giant Penis?"

"No, 76 degrees perpendicular to The Cat In The Hat With The Giant Penis!"

"The thirty-four foot tall Butter Sculpture of Valyrym's balls?" The Coyote scrunched his muzzle. "You're right, that is a weird thing to put in a parade."

Valyrym glanced down at himself. "And yet, quite impressive they could model them so accurately, long before you ever even thought me up."

The Coyote chuckling, watching more costumed figures dance about on tv. "What I wanna know is, why the hell did they put a Box of Crayons and a couple of Day-Glo Cardboard Robots alongside the Rugrats, Sonic, and Gumby? What, did the movie producers run out of licensed characters they'd paid to use?" He lifted his voice. "We're out of characters kids will recognize, what do we do? I dunno, dress someone up like a box of crayons!"

"Objection!" Asterbury lifted his hand. "Kids don't recognize Gumby."

The Coyote chuckled. "Maybe they did back then. More important, why the hell did that kid think the Box of Crayons was awesome? Oh my god!" The Coyote rolled his eyes. "They literally just high fived over seeing the Cat In The Hat. That's so dumb, no one would ever-"

"This is awesome!" Valyrym bounced on the sofa.

"Look!" Asterbury pointed at the screen. "Cat In The Hat! Awesome!"

"Yeah!" Valyrym high fived Asterbury.

The Coyote sighed. "Idiots. Also, why are people still showing up at the parade? That dude just got out of his car, carrying a lawn chair." He cupped his hands around his muzzle. "Hey dipshit! The parade started two hours ago, by the time you find a place to put that chair down, it's gonna be over."

"Hey, dipship!" Valyrym cupped his hands around his muzzle, talking to the coyote. "It's a movie on TV! They can't hear you."

"Whatever." The Coyote chuckled, scratching at the fur on his neck. "How the hell long is this parade, anyway? And why doesn't anyone get there on time?" He smirked at the next scene. "Oh look, Phil Hartman's getting real handsy with Arnold's wife. He's like Asterbury with..." He snorted. "Literally anyone."

Arnold's wife eventually knocks out Phil with a thermos full of what I hope is eggnog. Actually, I take that back. What a terrible waste of eggnog. At the same time, Arnold gets spotted by the same cop as always. Now, the cop's hands are all wrapped up in gauze from the bomb. Arnold runs, and the cop chases him. Also, Thermos? Where's Duane Dibbly when you need him?

"So..." Asterbury drummed his fingers on the arm of the sofa. "He's probably on the FBI's most wanted list, right?"

"Yeah, they should be." The Coyote flattened his ears. "They'd have to assume he was Sinbad's accomplice, since he ran from the bombing, and assaulted the DJ beforehand. This movie has some weird lessons to teach kids."

"Speaking of learning a weird lesson..." Asterbury licked his muzzle when Booster showed up on screen again. "I'm really starting to get a thing for neon pink fursuits."

"Honestly, I'm a little surprised I hadn't seen art of this character before. He's like...a weird, pink sabertooth dog or something." The Coyote took a drink of eggnog. "He's gotta be up someone's alley."

"I'd like to be up Booster's alley," Asterbury said. "Plus he's got a gold diaper, and you know there's furries into that!"

The Coyote groaned, and the movie went on. While teaching children to run from the police after a bombing, Arnold ended up blundering his way into the production area for the Turbo Man spectacle about to happen in the parade. He's assumed to be the replacement for the Turbo Man actor, who was nearly killed in a jetpack accident that morning. So Arnold gets strapped into a Turbo Man custom with a working jetpack, and then...

The Parade's big Turbo Man reveal happens. Arnold, as Turbo Man, rises from inside a float, in the middle of the street. And seriously, how the fuck did he get there? Wasn't he just in a warehouse? I guess he could have been put into the float, in the warehouse, and then the float ended up on the street, but... I know, I know, movie magic this, blow an elf that, but still.

Actually, here's the real question. This parade's been going on for hours, right? They just showed a line of people on both sides of the road, behind the float, as Turbo Man rises from the depths. The float's already been parading. It's passed a large number of people. So, what about all those poor kids who's parents actually cared enough about them to get them to the parade on time? They waited around all day, desperately hoping for a glimse of Turbo Man...and then, when the float finally arrives? He hasn't even come out yet. Instead, he finally emerges, halfway down the parade route, and half the kids who got there early miss him completely.

Sorry you got here early kid, but go fuck yourself, I guess. What a holiday message-

"Ahem." Asterbury punched the Coyote's shoulder. "You just gonna keep inner monologuing this part, or you wanna wrap this thing up?"

"Oh, right." The Coyote finished off his egg nog, then set his glass down. "Guess I shoulda dialogued that part. Let's see..." He cleared his throat. "Sorry you got here early kid, but go fuck yourself. No Turbo Man for you, you little bitch."

"Wow, Coyote." Asterbury swallowed. "Harsh."

"Life's harsh, you little bitch."

Asterbury burst into tears. "Save me, Turbo Man!"

The Coyote ignored him, watching the movie instead. "Huh... Looks like Officer Burned Hands has given up on chasing the bomber's accomplice. Because now he's riding around on the police float, waving to people!"

Valyrym cocked his head. "So, he stopped chasing a bombing suspect to go ride on a parade float? Now _that_is true heroism."

The Coyote scratched his head. "Why does the police float have a trampoline on it? That one cop is just doing backflips all day."

"Now that's what I call..." Asterbury snapped his fingers. "Flipping the case!"

"That doesn't even make sense." The Coyote sighed. "Nevermind. At least you didn't say, now that's what I call a Bob's Burgers. Because-"

"Oh, I know Scavenger! He's just flipping with excitement because he finally got a peek inside Booster's diaper!"

The Coyote glared down at the urd'thin. "Wish someone would blow you up."

"Yeah," Asterbury said, solemnly. "I wish someone would blow me, too."

Valyrym nudged the canine. "That one was your fault."

"I definitely walked right into it."

Meanwhile, in the movie, Arnold is given a limited edition Turbo Man to hand out to one lucky child. Of course, he spots his own kid in the huge crowd, and calls him up. Just before he can reveal himself as Arnold, Sinbad ziplines down to the float, now dressed as Dementor.

"Huh...you know, I just realized something." The Coyote tilted his head, staring at Dementor. "He looks just like Dr. Nefarious, from Ratchet and Clank. Green and black color scheme, helmet with exposed brain and or gears, schlocky villainous dialogue." His ears drooped. "Did Insomniac rip off Jingle All The Way?"

"You know what, Booster?" Sinbad swiftly approached Booster, in the movie. "No one likes you!" Sinbad punched Booster off the float and down onto the street, where a screaming hoard of children spontaneously descended upon him to kick his ass. "We don't like you! We hate you, Booster!"

"Wow!" The Coyote barked laughter. "A whole crowd of kids just ran out into the road to beat Booster's ass!"

Asterbury cackled. "Just like my last birthday party!"

The Coyote blinked, tilting his head. "...What? That doesn't even make sense! Aw, who cares. Fuck it."

"Oh, it definitely fucks it." Asterbury rubbed his hands together. "I bet Booster gets all the pink, furry ass!"

"What are you talking about? That character's so incredibly despised, that they shoulda Poochie'd him a long time ago."

"Oh yeah, I'd poochie him." Asterbury rubbed his own chest. "I'm poochie him so hard." He turned to the Coyote, shifting his voice into something huskier. "Would you poochie me? I'd poochie me."

"You know what Asterbury? No one likes you!" The Coyote punched Asterbury off the couch, and onto the floor.

A screaming hoard of children spontaneously descended upon him to kick his ass. "We don't like you! We hate you Asterbury!"

"Finally," Valyrym said. "Children make themselves useful." Then he glanced at the TV, just in time to see Arnold's Kid kick Sinbad in the nuts. "Huh... I guess you really did write this."

The Coyote laughed, watching as Arnold's Kid ran away from Sinbad. Soon, he was climbing a ladder to a high rise rooftop, all by himself, while a man in a custom chased him down. Meanwhile, everyone but the kid's mom thought it was all part of the show. Even the police. The police even tell the mom that her son's a really good actor.

"Huh." The Coyote flicked his tail. "No wonder these cops gave up hunting a mad bomber to go jump on a trampoline." Arnold sets out to save his son, and fires up his jetpack. He flies way up into the sky...then inexplicably shuts the jetpack off, and plummets back to the earth. The Coyote tilted his head, watching. "Why does he fall like that? His body is completely still, but he's just sort of wiggling his arms and legs...he looks like an upside turtle."

Asterbury sprang free of the hoard of children, who vanished back into the Christmas aether. He settled down on the couch, nudging The Coyote. "Do you think that's how Arnold has sex, too? Just lays on his back, wiggling his limbs?" He licked his nose. "Cause I know that'd get me going."

The end of the movie swiftly approaches. And with Christmas Eve giving way to Christmas, the Coyote decides to sum things up real quick. Arnold survives his fall by firing up his jetpack again just before impact, only to crash into a building, where he... weirdly sticks into the wall like a cartoon dart, wobbling around. He falls to the ground, and Sinbad chases the kid out onto a big treetop Christmas tree and leaves them hanging from it. Because...nothing says Christmas like children in peril, apparently.

The kid yells for Arnold to throw his Turborang, or whatever dumbass name they gave the boomberang. He throws it, and on the return, it smacks Sinbad in the head. He falls the same way, weirdly wiggling all the way down.

"Oh, yeah." Asterbury rubbed his nipples while reading this part of the story. "Wiggle for me, you helpless little turtle."

Sinbad falls onto the police float. The cops immediately surround him, with their guns drawn and pointed. Wait, weren't they part of the parade? Why are they carrying their service weapons while riding on a float? Because this is America, you commie! Oh, of course, my mistake.

The kid falls, and Arnold fires up his jetpack just in time to...incinerate the kid in his jet wash. Horrified, Arnold flies himself into a volcano, which erupts and smothers the town in magma.

The Coyote made air quotes. "Liquid hot magma."

"Uh..." Valyrym glanced down at Asterbury. "Who's he talking too?"

The urd'thin shrugged. "I think he's narrating in his head, or something."

"Oh..." The dragon sniffed at the Coyote's head. "I thought he was having another stroke, but he doesn't smell like burnt toast."

Asterbury splayed his ears. "I don't think that's how it works."

"Yes it is, I saw on TV." Valyrym waggled a few half unsheathed claws. "When humans have a stroke, they smell like burnt toast."

Meanwhile, the credits rolled after Arnold committed volcano based suicide, overwhelmed by the grief of his son's accidental jetpack induced public cremation.

Ooops, that's the bad ending. Reload your save, and try again.

Arnold reverts to an earlier save, and this time, manages to catch the falling child. They land, and the kid laments that his dad couldn't see him fly with Turbo Man. So, Arnold takes off his helmet to reveal...

The Mad Bomber's accomplice! A literal fugitive from the law. Surely, the FBI is hunting this man. And yet, he removes his helmet in full view of a float filled with cops, including one of the bombing victims. And yet, the police guarding the parade just smile and look on, not caring that one of America's Most Wanted is right in front of them.

Not only that, but the SAME cop who keeps busting Arnold, and seemingly lost his hands to a bomb, brings the toy back to the kid. He tells Turbo Man they could use a man like him on the force, and when Arnold turns around and reveals himself? The cop just stares at him in shock. Arnold apologizes for the motorcycle, and the coffee he spilled on him, and even the bomb? But does the cop arrest him?

No!

No, he just slowly backs away, befuddled.

This man is really, really bad at his job.

So, with his father having successfully intimidated the local police force into complete inaction, Arnold's Kid gives Sinbad the Turbo Man figure. At least Sinbad is arrested for all the many crimes he's committed. And even though the child literally almost died by falling off a rooptop thanks to Sinbad, he says "It's cool," when Sinbad apologized. Sure, he was nearly splattered like a bug on a windshield, but his dad's Turbo Man, so it's all water under the reindeer's dick, or whatever.

THE END

Wait, there's a post-credits scene? Wow, this movie really was ahead of its time. Ah, he finally gets to put the star on his tree, and...OH NO! He forgot to buy his wife a present. What a scamp!

"And that, my friends..." The Coyote stood up, stretching his back. "Is that! What'd you think?"

Valyrym shrugged his wings. "It certainly was a movie, I'll give it that."

"That it was," The Coyote said, laughing. "And now that it's done, I think we can call this story-"

Suddenly, Arnold Schwarzenegger kicked in the front door. "I need the Turbo Man!" He sprinted into the house, holding a cigar in one hand, and a sausage in the other. "Turbo Man! Where is da Turbo Man?!"

"What the fuck?" The Coyote walked towards the front room. "Hey, we don't have the word count left for you to-"

"Give me da Turbo Man!" Arnold put both the cigar and the sausage into his mouth, then grabbed the coyote around the shoulders. He hoisted him off his feet, and threw him across the room. "Give to me Da Turbo Man right now!"

The Coyote flew through the air, completely still aside from the awkward wiggling of his arms and legs. "Aaaaaaaaaaaah!" He landed on the police float, next to the backflipping cops. "Huh...didn't even know I had one of these in my house."

"I'll take care of this." Asterbury strolled around the couch, raising his voice. "I can't believe it's not butter!"

Fabio smashed through another wall, his gorgeous blond locks flowing in the Christmas breeze. "I thought I told you-"

Asterbury pointed at Arnold. "He said it!"

Fabio turned towards Arnold, raising his fist.

Asterbury flicked his fingers, bending Arnold over with his power. "It's Turbo Time!"

Valyrym sighed, pushing himself off the couch. He padded over to the suspiciously placed police float, staring down at the coyote. "You know, I'm old enough to remember when you ended these stories with a heart to heart talk between the two of us."

The Coyote stared up at him. "Well, you certainly are old, I'll give you that."

Valyrym snorted. "Now, you're ending them with Arnold Schwarzenegger being fisted by Fabio in the background."

The Coyote only smiled. "I sure am, Valyrym. I sure am."

The Dragon chuckled, settling next to the float. "Are you...sure you don't want to talk about anything serious, this year?"

The Coyote shrugged. "I dunno. Things still suck. Pandemic's still raging, but at least my family's vaccinated and boosted. I got to see my boyfriend again this year, that was wonderful, of course. Got to go to a few furry cons again. My body's still slowly going down hill. It keeps inflicting more of the Top Ten Anime Betrayals on me at every turn, but hey, fuck it. Enjoy life while you can, right? So I do. This year, I managed to go down to the coast, and camp on the beach anyway. That was pretty awesome. Caught some real big fish, too."

The back door opened, and Amaleen walked in. "Oh, hello Coyote! I'm so sorry I'm late for this year's story, but I..." She trailed off when she saw what was happening to Arnold. "You know what? Nevermind, I'll see you next time." She turned and left, closing the door behind herself.

"Merry Fisted By Fabio to you too, Amaleen!" The Coyote waved to her. She flipped him off through a window. He glanced over to Asterbury. "Say, you wanna take that out of the hall?"

"Oh sure, old pal." Asterbury pulled open a closet door. Inside, Tim Allen dressed as Santa struggled against tinsel bondage, moaning against a ball gag that looked like a Christmas ornament. "Lemme just get out the ol' Gimp Box."

"Uh..." The Coyote sat up, staring. "You've still got Tim Allen, huh?"

Asterbury waved off the accusation. "Now, now, let's not ask who's got which celebrities locked up in which closets." He lifted his voice into something more musical. "Oh, Chocolate Strudel! I've a new one, for you!"

Vatch ran in from another room. The brown-furred urd'thin was naked, save for a red harness with silver jingle bells on it. He carried a taser in his hand, approaching Arnold. "You Vatch gimp now!" Vatch tasered Arnold Schwarzenegger right in the ass.

Arnold rocketed up into the air, yanking Fabio up by his arm. Smoke pouring from his ass like Mario after landing in lava. "He tasered me right in da ass!"

Asterbury pulled out a large box wrapped in chains from within his closet. He tossed it out across the floor, sliding it under the airborne actor like a ghost trap from Ghostbusters. It popped open, and beams of golden light caught Arnold Schwarzenegger and the still-fisting Fabio. They were both sucked down into the Gimp Box, which locked itself shut.

"Hah!" Asterbury clapped his hands. "A Two-fer! Now..." He turned towards the brown urd'thin. "Gimme some sugar, Strudel!"

Vatch tasered Asterbury in the balls. "Gimp no talk!"

"AAAH!" Asterbury squealed, dancing in place like Snoopie when the theme song played. "You fried Carol!"

"I say no talk!" Vatch tasered Asterbury again, this time in the sheath.

"Mama Mia!" Asterbury fell over, twitching on the floor. "That's a spicy tasing!"

"Okay." The Coyote laughed to himself. "Now it's a Christmas special."

"How many times are you going to say that, this year?"

"It sure is, Valyrym, it sure is."

"What?" Valyrym sniffed the Coyote again. "You really are having a stroke, aren't you."

"Merry Christmas to you too, Valyrym." The Coyote smiled. "Merry Fisted By Fabio to us all."

*****

Thank you ever so much for reading this year's tale. I hope these stories have become as much a part of your Christmas traditions as they have mine. If you've enjoyed, please hit the fave button, and leave a comment with your thoughts... or... at least a few of your favorite jokes.

Merry Christmas, everyone. May we all see many more.