Ah, a theme week? Nice! And starting off with the traditional harbingers of unwanted visitors and songs we'd rather not have to listen to (like Mariah Carey's inevitable Christmas shrieking). Hmm, maybe I should write about Mariah Carey shrieking... or perhaps for a theme week I might go to some characters you like more :)
The carollers "Explain yourself." Death's voice always had a sombre quality to it, like an estate agent sitting you down to tell you that your house was worth barely half what you'd hoped for and that their preferred option was demolition as you'd probably be sued by anyone who bought it, no matter how much due diligence was done, but now he'd managed to add resonance and timbre that made it sound like the universe itself was disappointed and in need of an excuse not to extinguish you. "I'm helping a friend out." "A friend?" Death didn't sound disbelieving exactly, but if Famine had been a teenager again he would definitely have been squirming and staring at his feet. "Sort of," he said. "Santa popped by and said he had some urgent stuff to do in Ukraine, and would I mind helping out for an evening." Death stared at Famine with a look that suggested that Famine was very lucky Death wasn't holding his nerf gun and then turned away. "Very well," he said. "You're going to be Santa for a few hours? How does that work, when you're so very much Famine all the time." "Pest is giving me a hand," said Famine and Death's snort of laughter completely dispelled the gravity he'd managed to inject so far. "Hey, that's not funny!" Death turned back to Famine, tiny blue pinpricks of light flaring in the eye sockets of his face and his jaw clacking with uncontrolled laughter. "Maybe not," he said when he'd got himself under control, "but that's because you didn't see what I saw through the window." He pointed. Famine felt a little bit undermined by all this, but stood next to Death and looked anyway. Pestilence was coaxing Hilda, the Hellhound chihuahua, into the reins of a sleigh. They were far too big for her, but Pestilence was doing something to shrink them. "Oh," said Famine. The doorbell chimed and War yelled from the upstairs bathroom, "Answer that!" "Me?" said Famine, sounding huffy. There was the sound of running footsteps. "Scuffles, I should think," said Death. "War is using him a lot these days, I wonder if that's a portent? Indeed, I wonder if Famine being Santa Claus is a portent." "I'm just helping out!" said Famine wishing he didn't sound quite so defensive. He put a hand down on the counter and the nearby butter turned rancid and brown. "Sorry." The strains of "We wish you a merry Christmas," started up from the front door and Death started laughing soundlessly again. "Ah, carollers," he said. "What better group for Scuffles to greet." Famine started laughing too, but his laughter was the gurgling, desperate sound of thirsty man drowning in salt water. "If they only do one song it'll be ok," he said. "Scuff's a nice kid; he doesn't affect things as strongly as we do." Death waved a hand at the butter which turned to dust and blew away. The song finished and the two strained their ears, waiting for the front door to close. "Oh no," said Famine. "Oh no, they're trying to choose a second song." The first punch was thrown a few seconds later, and after five minutes Scuffles came into the kitchen looking bemused. "There's two dead," he said. "One on the lawn, the other in the street. I think the neighbours have called the police." "Merry Christmas!" said Famine, clapping him on the back.
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Ah, a theme week? Nice! And starting off with the traditional harbingers of unwanted visitors and songs we'd rather not have to listen to (like Mariah Carey's inevitable Christmas shrieking). Hmm, maybe I should write about Mariah Carey shrieking... or perhaps for a theme week I might go to some characters you like more :)
The carollers
"Explain yourself." Death's voice always had a sombre quality to it, like an estate agent sitting you down to tell you that your house was worth barely half what you'd hoped for and that their preferred option was demolition as you'd probably be sued by anyone who bought it, no matter how much due diligence was done, but now he'd managed to add resonance and timbre that made it sound like the universe itself was disappointed and in need of an excuse not to extinguish you.
"I'm helping a friend out."
"A friend?" Death didn't sound disbelieving exactly, but if Famine had been a teenager again he would definitely have been squirming and staring at his feet.
"Sort of," he said. "Santa popped by and said he had some urgent stuff to do in Ukraine, and would I mind helping out for an evening."
Death stared at Famine with a look that suggested that Famine was very lucky Death wasn't holding his nerf gun and then turned away. "Very well," he said. "You're going to be Santa for a few hours? How does that work, when you're so very much Famine all the time."
"Pest is giving me a hand," said Famine and Death's snort of laughter completely dispelled the gravity he'd managed to inject so far. "Hey, that's not funny!"
Death turned back to Famine, tiny blue pinpricks of light flaring in the eye sockets of his face and his jaw clacking with uncontrolled laughter. "Maybe not," he said when he'd got himself under control, "but that's because you didn't see what I saw through the window." He pointed.
Famine felt a little bit undermined by all this, but stood next to Death and looked anyway. Pestilence was coaxing Hilda, the Hellhound chihuahua, into the reins of a sleigh. They were far too big for her, but Pestilence was doing something to shrink them.
"Oh," said Famine.
The doorbell chimed and War yelled from the upstairs bathroom, "Answer that!"
"Me?" said Famine, sounding huffy.
There was the sound of running footsteps. "Scuffles, I should think," said Death. "War is using him a lot these days, I wonder if that's a portent? Indeed, I wonder if Famine being Santa Claus is a portent."
"I'm just helping out!" said Famine wishing he didn't sound quite so defensive. He put a hand down on the counter and the nearby butter turned rancid and brown. "Sorry."
The strains of "We wish you a merry Christmas," started up from the front door and Death started laughing soundlessly again. "Ah, carollers," he said. "What better group for Scuffles to greet."
Famine started laughing too, but his laughter was the gurgling, desperate sound of thirsty man drowning in salt water. "If they only do one song it'll be ok," he said. "Scuff's a nice kid; he doesn't affect things as strongly as we do."
Death waved a hand at the butter which turned to dust and blew away. The song finished and the two strained their ears, waiting for the front door to close.
"Oh no," said Famine. "Oh no, they're trying to choose a second song."
The first punch was thrown a few seconds later, and after five minutes Scuffles came into the kitchen looking bemused. "There's two dead," he said. "One on the lawn, the other in the street. I think the neighbours have called the police."
"Merry Christmas!" said Famine, clapping him on the back.
Greg - yes, I like these guys a whole lot more than your proposed alternative, so please accept my gratitude for this early Christmas present :)
And... Famine as Santa Claus? Even if it's only for a few minutes the results ought to be rather... spectacular. I can't wait!
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