route_1065 | We Survived the Snowmageddon

Entry tags:

We Survived the Snowmageddon

Who: Albert Rosenfield (

worktodo) and whoever is congregating at the Justice Farm for the Christmas holiday!
Where: El Rancho del Justicia, aka Albert's house in Saffron City
When: Anytime between Monday the 24th and Wednesday the 26th!
Summary: A lot has changed in a month, but some things never do. Losers getting together to fail their way through the holiday season is one of them.
Rating: Individual threads may vary, but let's go with G overall and warn otherwise!
Log:

Despite generally doing a very excellent Grinch impression, Albert doesn't actually hate Christmas. Granted, it's not one of his favorite holidays the way that Thanksgiving is — it's a little too overdone, a little too commercial, lacking in some of the spirit of togetherness in favor of the spirit of consumerism — but it is decidedly a holiday, and once again Johto has presented him with a situation where he is forced to make a choice. For the second time this year (by Albert's reckoning), Johto appears to have done everything in its power to prevent them from putting on a holiday, including but not limited to summoning up the actual apocalypse. The question that begs to be asked, therefore, is simply: is Albert willing to surrender Christmas in the face of all these apparent attempts to ruin it?

The answer, naturally, is: oh, hell no.

It is, however, an undeniably different atmosphere from the one that filled the house on Thanksgiving. Most of the occupants of the house are worse off now than they were then, be it emotionally or physically — some from spooky encounters, some from harsh truths, and some from going out in the apocalyptic snow like the damn fools they are — so if there's slightly less pep and enthusiasm saturating the grounds, that could certainly be why. Any decorations applied to the outside of the house have been battered at best and outright wrecked at worst. But as the slightly paraphrased song lyric goes, "Though the weather outside is frightful, by the fire it's so delightful", and the interior of the house is a thankfully different story.

On Monday, Albert will be spending the Eve of Christmas largely in the kitchen, having allotted the whole day for getting all the components of Christmas dinner prepared and readied in advance; on Thanksgiving, it's a fundamental part of the holiday tradition to run around the kitchen like a madman trying to get dinner to the table on time, but for Christmas, he'd rather everything just go smoothly. Early arrivals are welcome to hang out in the cozy parts of the house, grab some cocoa, and carefully avoid him; otherwise, they might get drafted into menial labor like shoveling out the front walk or putting the finishing touches on the interior decor before the party officially kicks off.

By Tuesday, it's all Christmas all the time; there is no victory quite so sweet as the one that comes hard-won, and as far as Albert is concerned, the most effective "screw you" to Johto's Snowmageddon is putting on an occasion that is positively bursting with holly and jolly anyway. Somewhere near the kitchen, Zack the Porygon2 is contributing by blasting from his Gear's speakers a concert of every Christmas song he knows (of which there are three: "Feliz Navidad", "Grandma Got Run Over By A ~~Stantler~~ Reindeer", and the Weather Girls' "It's Raining Men"). A stately (albeit slightly lopsided) Christmas tree that is probably the Johto equivalent of a Douglas fir is set up in a corner of the living room near the fireplace — which is burning merrily — and its branches are decorated with makeshift ornaments like Pokeballs and paper throwing stars along with the standard colored bauble variety. Stuff your presents below; there'll be time for opening them later, but for now they're part of the decor. There's holly on the piano and fake candles in the windows, and you better believe at least half of those doorways have mistletoe strategically placed near them. Don't get caught! (Or do, if that's what you're here for.)

The one new and interesting addition to the house can be found in a corner of the living room, where a little space has been carved out for a small end table topped with coasters, a chair, and a tripod apparatus just the right size for holding a standard Pokegear. Got someone to call and wish a Merry Christmas? Do it from the comfort of this corner like it's Masterpiece Theater.

But however Tuesday is spent, there's sure to be a lot of love, gifting, and good Christmas cheer. Or else.

When Wednesday comes along, it'll be the standard post-Christmas wind-down — leftovers aplenty in the kitchen, trash bags of crumpled wrapping paper tucked into the corners, and a nice low-pressure environment in which to interact, gush over gifts, and enjoy the spirit of the season a little longer before getting right back to work on Important Business. For some, that might mean playing in the snow or having a snowball fight; for others, that might mean coordinating federal agent business for the future. But either way, it's another Christmas survived, and that's what really matters, right?

[OOC: Just like last time, this is an open log for everybody coming to Albert's for Christmas! Feel free to start your own threads as you please — open them to everybody, close them to specific people, whatever works for you. Just make a note in the header of what day it's taking place on and who all's invited, and have fun, everybody! Also, for people who aren't physically present at the Farm on Christmas, feel free to use the designated Skype Thread™ to chat with them over video anyway!]

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--WHAT.

Oh no he di-in't.

Heather turned to face him, mouth open in outrage.

Then, wordlessly, she pulled another decorative bow out of her pocket.

And stuck it to his face.

"YOU have a dumb chair face."

"Don't talk to me, Chair face. You ugly, go home."

AND THEN HE TURNED HIS BACK TO HER COMPLETELY. Because even Henry couldn't keep a straight face after calling somebody Chair Face two times in a row.

Bad move, Henry.

It was maybe two seconds before he would feel the unmistakable sensation of someone smacking him on the butt.

Because she just stuck a decorative bow on there.

Like a shiny geometrical rabbit tail.

Henry did notice that and let out a little yelp as well as took a hop forward. He swung his hands back to his rear-end to find the bow and made a few disgruntled noises as he peeled it off.

"You better run."

He made a sudden, jolting motion as if he were going to leap at her with the butt-bow.

Oh god no please anything but the butt-bow.

Heather grins wildly and promptly skipped away, trying to slap another bow onto his shoulder as she did so, because she was apparently incapable of quitting while she was ahead.

Henry let out a sort of 'yarrgh' sound, much louder than his usual mumbly utterances and gave full chase. The bow on his arm was but a small wound compared to what he would do to her if he caught her.

"I'm gonna hide all of your presents!"

"If you do that, I'll take back what I was gonna give you and replace it with all the dirty socks Cujo's chewed on in the last month!"

She gleefully ducked between a few people, making to escape towards the Christmas tree.

When Heather dove between a couple of Not-Heather beings, Henry paused. He shuffled his feet and formed a grim, wobbly line with his mouth as Heather grew further and further away. He couldn't let his nature get in the way of sweet revenge.

Henry rushed between the people as well, muttering a quick, "Sorry." as he did.

Now what are you going to do, Heather? You can't use people as a defense!

Oh... wow.

She wasn't actually expecting him to follow her. She was sort of expecting his, like, terminal awkwardness to effectively create a force field between him and her if she disappeared into the crowd.

But hey! This was improvement! She needed to encourage it.

Which she was going to do by slipping back up to him through the crowd with a wicked grin on her face and slapping another bow onto his arm before jumping back swiftly in anticipation of retaliation.

Henry searched for her, but there were so many people he didn't see her ambush. When he turned to find another bow slapped onto him, he let out a sound not unlike that of a furious and dying sealion before whirling around and charging after her.

He wasn't going to loose sight of that Gothic dandelion puff!

At this point, he could probably follow the sound of her giggling, because she could hardly hold it back at this point.

SHE WAS GETTIN YOU GOOD, HENRY.

SHE WAS GETTIN YOU GOOD.

Having circled around behind him in the crowd, she crept between a small cluster of people and promptly launched at his back, two bows at the ready. They were going to go on each shoulder blade if she had her way.

It would have worked but...remember, Heather, you're dealing with another survivor here. He's used to battling things even more horrible than butt bows. When the giggling neared him again, Henry whirled around in time to meet her head-on.

He took a double bow blow to the chest but shot out his noodle arms of doom to catch her before she reloaded.

"Arrrrhhh!"

Well, congratulations, Henry.

You now have two delightfully festive Christmas bows stuck to your shirt in the same approximate location of your nipples.

It makes you look incredibly handsome.

A fact that Heather no doubt realized the instant her hands hit home, regardless of the fact that they had not reached their planned target. She let out a delighted hoot as she skipped backwards, trying to evade his grasping arms-- but this time she was just a little too slow.

Now you're in for it, Heather! Too slow! Henry's noodle arms manage to wrap around Heather and the rest of him drags her down to the floor in a sloppy tackle.

"See how you like it!" Henry dislodged one of his nipple bows and tried to stick it to the girl's ear.

And then the party was treated to the in-their-twenties adopted Mason siblings rolling around on the floor like five-year-olds.

"OW! Get off, you dickwad! Your Christmas bra is sticking into my back!"

Like she could even feel it through the leather.

Trying to squirm partially free of Henry's grip, she planted a hand on his face and pushed.

"No!" Henry peeled one of the other bows off of himself and tried to reach around and cram it into her mouth. "Merry Apocalypse!"

Then he pushed himself to his knees and started to stand, fully convinced that he had won.

"Oh you little SHIT!"

That was what Heather tried to shout, but it came out sounding more like HUOAURGHRBL.

But if he thought she was going to take that lying down, he had another thing coming-- because as soon as he was on his feet, she snatched his ankles, wrapping an arm around them and going for his sneakers with the other.

GONNA TIE YOUR SHOELACES TOGETHER.

HOW D'YOU LIKE THEM ASPEAR BERRIES?

Henry nearly stumbled.

"Woah! H-hey!" He tried to lift one of his shoes out of her reach but the damage was done. He flailed a hand at the top of her head as he tried to hobble out of her grasp.

Instead he just sort of fell face-first into the wrapping material that had been shoved over to the far side of the gift pile under the tree.

The small tower of wrapping paper rolls promptly tumbled to the floor under the force of the falling Henry, making several of the springy branches on the tree bounce and jingle.

Heather cackled, spitting the bow out and scrambling to her feet.

They had both better pray that Albert was not nearby.

Henry struggled through the wrapping paper. His elbows knocked colorful baubles off the tree. When he managed to sit up on his knees, he turned to defend himself.

"You better watch out!"

"Watch out for WHAT? You?"

She loomed over him with a wild grin, wasting no time in reaching down to bundle the wrapping paper around him as best as she could. Because nothing was scary when it was wrapped in happy dancing-Vanillice wrapping paper.

The sound Henry made wasn't human. He'd forgotten himself again and gotten wrapped up (literally even) in the game. When the photographer finally managed to stand, he hobbled at Heather.

"I'm going to use bodyslam!"

She slapped the last of the sticky bows onto him to hold the paper in place just in time for him to hobble upright and do his pathetic little charge.

"Oh, SNAP, I avoided the attack!"

Lifting her hands to her face, she tugged on her eyes and nose to make a majestic and dignified face at him.

"I'M gonna use Taunt!"

"Uneffective!"

Henry hopped forward with every intention of bumping into her. And then keeping on bumping into her like some kind of stupid holiday-themed wind-up toy.

"Body slam! Body slam!"

This is what adults do at Christmas parties.

The crowd parted as the pair buffeted their way through, Henry slamming into Heather the whole way. She let out a yelp of outrage, grabbing another roll of wrapping paper on her way backwards and crumpling and twisting the end of it into something vaguely resembling a point.

Which would soon find its way into Henry's ribs.

"HORN ATTACK!"

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no_ufo_ending - 2013-02-13 12:44 (UTC) - Expand

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foolishwren - 2013-02-14 04:46 (UTC) - Expand

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