A Very Tucson Christmas, part 1 of 5

[The Good Reverend Roger]

It's the Christmas season, and everyone in Tucson knows what that means.  Hide the kids in the basement, and leave cookies, meth, and strong drink by the mantle.  

For on Christmas, Baba Yaga flies all over The City in her magic mortar and pestle, visiting each house with gifts for good little boys and girls.  These gifts are gained, not in the North Pole factory of yore, but in a manner guaranteed to ensure that good children will eventually outnumber bad children.

Rather than a lump of coal for bad kiddies, Baba Yaga comes down the chimney, creeps through the house, and tears the skin off of naughty children.  Their hides are then given to the good kids, to remind them to stay on the straight and narrow.

What happens when her mantle piece offerings aren't left out is too horrible to contemplate.

Sure, there used to be a Santa Claus, but he was arrested in Maricopa County for being in the USA illegally, plus breaking and entering, and being a Pagan figure.  He was dressed in Pink, given a cell, and mysteriously beat himself to death the first night.

Mrs. Claus tried to carry on, but she and her reindeer were blown to cat meat by a flight of F22 Raptors, as they crossed into American airspace.  The elves all drowned a few weeks later when the ice floe their workshop had drifted off on melted underneath them.

Baba Yaga was the only mythical figure willing to take on the job.

Now, it may be said that having Christmas arranged by a cannibal Russian witch might cast a pall over the whole holiday, I am in fact assured that this isn't the case.  She's tough on crime, has her paperwork straight, and came in with a very low bid.  If she hadn't lived in Russia for a thousand years or so, you'd swear she was American™.

And let's face it...A lump of coal isn't exactly a deterrent, these days.  No.  You have to be firm with the little hoodlums, or before you know it, they'll be on your lawn, running around and making lots of noise, instead of quietly parking themselves in front of the X Box that their parents worked so hard for.

So, from all of us in Tucson, to all of you out there reading this with your pants around your ankles and a silly grin pasted on your face, a very merry Christmas to you all.  Sleep tight, and don't let the scorpions and vipers bite...Oh, and hide the kids.  Odds are, they aren't on the right side of the list.

Now we just have to deal with that fucked up little bunny that lays eggs.  That ain't natural, and goes against God's will.

Or Kill Me.

[Sister Fracture]

As strange as the story sounds, it's all true. Just another day in Tucson.

[LMNO]

The idea of Baba Yaga taking over just... fits.  Wonderfully/Horribly.

[AFK]

I think Santa got what he deserved.  Dude lost it years ago. 

[The Good Reverend Roger]

I think Santa got what he deserved.  Dude lost it years ago. 

He sold out when he sponsored those insipid Coca Cola commercials in the 70s.  The cunt.

[The Good Reverend Roger]

The idea of Baba Yaga taking over just... fits.  Wonderfully/Horribly.

The world's going down the shitter, and Santa Claus just couldn't keep up with the times.  He really hasn't been right since child soldiers in Africa started writing him letters asking for cocaine and bayonets.

[Cardinal Pizza Deliverance.]

What I want to know is where the Hogfather came in on the bidding war. I mean, Baba Yaga is awesome and all. But that house of hers runs around on giant chicken legs and she never gets my letters because her address is never the same twice. She could at least take out a P.O. Box or something.

[The Good Reverend Roger]

What I want to know is where the Hogfather came in on the bidding war.

Wrong universe, I'm afraid.  This planet is held up by Baby Jesus and the ghost of Ayn Rand, not some fucking tortoise.

[Cardinal Pizza Deliverance.]

But . . . but . . . tortoise.

[The Good Reverend Roger]

But . . . but . . . tortoise.

TWO WORDS:  TURTLE SOUP.

This is America™, 21st Century, not some mollycoddling Ankh-Morpork kiddie land.

Also, I think I've about had it with every single of my rants and stories turning into Terry Pratchett fan club threads.  This doesn't even resemble anything he fucking wrote, FFS.

To hell with it.  I'm going to stick to whiskey & pill driven raving from now on.

[Juana]

But to the OP. I like it and Baba Yaga, like LMNO said, fits wonderfully.

[The Good Reverend Roger]

But to the OP. I like it and Baba Yaga, like LMNO said, fits wonderfully.

Thanks. 

But this thread is now about Terry Fucking Pratchett.

[Richter]

PERFECT.  I can see Baba Yaga gnshign the iron teeth and ripping off a punk's skin one - handed, like in the Silent Hill movie, except with a little old woman, not Pyramid Head.

[Nephew Twiddleton]

But to the OP. I like it and Baba Yaga, like LMNO said, fits wonderfully.

Thanks. 

But this thread is now about Terry Fucking Pratchett.

I shouldn't post in it then, since I've never read anything by him.

Blight,
-Ok with missing out on the TP

[The Good Reverend Roger]

But to the OP. I like it and Baba Yaga, like LMNO said, fits wonderfully.

Thanks. 

But this thread is now about Terry Fucking Pratchett.

I shouldn't post in it then, since I've never read anything by him.

Blight,
-Ok with missing out on the TP

He's an amazing writer.  I have no problem with his work¹, and enjoy it very much.

However, it's fucking annoying as hell when you try to have fun with a cultural myth, and some Goddamn Pratchett Fanboi derails everything by bringing up a Pratchett story that is at best tangentially related.

If I wanted to write about the fucking Hogfather as an alternate Santa, I would have.  But I fucking didn't, I wrote something entirely unrelated, and CPD can kiss my entire arse.

I'm really fucking pissed about this.



¹ Except that the bastard beat me to the funniest joke I've thought of in at least a year, apparently (reverse Phrenology).