*waves leetle red and green flag*
Dec. 31st, 2006 01:31 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
bliumchikSo I wrote a semi-drabble for ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
cadhla as a Christmas present, because she's generally awesome. She hasn't replied, which I take to mean that either a) she hasn't gotten round to reading it yet, b) She read it but doesn't have time to comment, or c) she read it and didn't have anything nice to say, so didn't say anything at all.
Either way, I never posted anything here for the holiday season except some random memes. So, Merry Wossname to y'all and goodbye for a couple of days, since I'm apparently banned from the computer for a couple of days. I also have a new years thing to post. but it will therefore also be somewhat late.
It was 1:27 am on Christmas morning when Zombie Santa came down the chimney. Tiffany's parents had tucked her in at nine thirty, gone to bed themselves at ten thirty. The house was deathly silent by midnight, when Tiffany's alarm rang, and she had allowed ten minutes to pass by for safety before creeping down to the living room. She settled onto the sofa, armed with a plate of cookies, her favourite My Little Pony and her warm orange blanket. Her parents had taken her shopping for her eighth birthday, and had expressed no small puzzlement at her choice, but you never knew when you might wake up in the middle of the night and find your bed had been teleported onto a snowy path with a snowplough advancing upon you, and then where would she be if she had a fluffy white blanket like Michelle and Andrea?
Tiffany had almost dropped off several times, and eaten most of the cookies, before she finally heard a thump and muffled moaning noises from the fireplace, which was covered by a grill to defend the living room from errant possums. She sat up, wide-eyed, clutching the pony, to see a red-and-white clad rotting corpse rattling the bars in annoyance. Well... he did have a white beard, although those looked suspiciously like hooks stuck into his skin at the ears, and he certainly had a sackful of... something. If Tiffany listened carefully she could hear the scraping lurch of zombie reindeer on the roof. The little girl and the undead mythological figure looked at each other for a long moment.
"Huuurgh... Huuuurgh... Huuuurgh," Said Zombie Santa eventually. "Braaains."
"Would you like a cookie?" Tiffany asked politely. "Mum made lots."
"Braaai...kiiiies?" The jolly fat cadaver looked puzzled - at least, Tiffany assumed he looked puzzled, given that his eyebrows had rotted away some time previously.
"They're chocolate chip," Tiffany said cheerfully, pushing one through the grate.
Zombie Santa nibbled on it cautiously and let out a sad but resigned sort of moan, as though grumbling about the inability of the common or garden Mum to make a proper brains cookie.
He rattled the bars once more for good measure (picking up and reattaching a finger that had somehow come loose), and then with great ceremony reached into his sack and carefully placed a slightly squishy eyeball (lovingly handcrafted at the north pole by hordes of zombie elves) into each of the three stockings hanging in front of the fireplace.
"Huuurgh, Hurrrgh, Huuurgh," Said Zombie Santa, shouldering the sack once more. "Braaains."
And he hoisted himself back up the chimney and disappeared into the night. As Tiffany climbed back into her bed, she fancied she could hear the mingled sounds of jingling bells and undead groans lulling her to sleep.
cadhla as a Christmas present, because she's generally awesome. She hasn't replied, which I take to mean that either a) she hasn't gotten round to reading it yet, b) She read it but doesn't have time to comment, or c) she read it and didn't have anything nice to say, so didn't say anything at all.Either way, I never posted anything here for the holiday season except some random memes. So, Merry Wossname to y'all and goodbye for a couple of days, since I'm apparently banned from the computer for a couple of days. I also have a new years thing to post. but it will therefore also be somewhat late.
It was 1:27 am on Christmas morning when Zombie Santa came down the chimney. Tiffany's parents had tucked her in at nine thirty, gone to bed themselves at ten thirty. The house was deathly silent by midnight, when Tiffany's alarm rang, and she had allowed ten minutes to pass by for safety before creeping down to the living room. She settled onto the sofa, armed with a plate of cookies, her favourite My Little Pony and her warm orange blanket. Her parents had taken her shopping for her eighth birthday, and had expressed no small puzzlement at her choice, but you never knew when you might wake up in the middle of the night and find your bed had been teleported onto a snowy path with a snowplough advancing upon you, and then where would she be if she had a fluffy white blanket like Michelle and Andrea?
Tiffany had almost dropped off several times, and eaten most of the cookies, before she finally heard a thump and muffled moaning noises from the fireplace, which was covered by a grill to defend the living room from errant possums. She sat up, wide-eyed, clutching the pony, to see a red-and-white clad rotting corpse rattling the bars in annoyance. Well... he did have a white beard, although those looked suspiciously like hooks stuck into his skin at the ears, and he certainly had a sackful of... something. If Tiffany listened carefully she could hear the scraping lurch of zombie reindeer on the roof. The little girl and the undead mythological figure looked at each other for a long moment.
"Huuurgh... Huuuurgh... Huuuurgh," Said Zombie Santa eventually. "Braaains."
"Would you like a cookie?" Tiffany asked politely. "Mum made lots."
"Braaai...kiiiies?" The jolly fat cadaver looked puzzled - at least, Tiffany assumed he looked puzzled, given that his eyebrows had rotted away some time previously.
"They're chocolate chip," Tiffany said cheerfully, pushing one through the grate.
Zombie Santa nibbled on it cautiously and let out a sad but resigned sort of moan, as though grumbling about the inability of the common or garden Mum to make a proper brains cookie.
He rattled the bars once more for good measure (picking up and reattaching a finger that had somehow come loose), and then with great ceremony reached into his sack and carefully placed a slightly squishy eyeball (lovingly handcrafted at the north pole by hordes of zombie elves) into each of the three stockings hanging in front of the fireplace.
"Huuurgh, Hurrrgh, Huuurgh," Said Zombie Santa, shouldering the sack once more. "Braaains."
And he hoisted himself back up the chimney and disappeared into the night. As Tiffany climbed back into her bed, she fancied she could hear the mingled sounds of jingling bells and undead groans lulling her to sleep.
