Hmmm. I wonder if they have fairy lights, too, or just the standard electric.

'Bout time those freeloading faries pulled their weight. Of course, since they weigh next to nothing their weight-pulling generally consists of three hours of flickering, scintillating light. That's why you have to have lots of replacements on hand, usually fresh-frozen.

At least they waited till after All Hallows this year. Of course, that might have something to do with the ghosts and whatnot who swarmed all over town last year stealing anything at all Christmasy that was on public display. I remember Jilli having a knockdown yelling match with a crew of zombies and saying that her Santa Clauses were perfectly acceptable because they were all wearing goth gear. I'm still not sure the eight flying vampire bats were a good replacement for the reindeer. Though Bob nearly hurt himself laughing. All good.

Off to see how much eggnog it takes to convince a vampire that Thanksgiving is a perfectly acceptable holiday, not just the emblem of colonial oppression. Not like we celebrate any of the Orangemen holidays. No pumpkin pie for those, after all.

Edward-- dressed in black leather trousers and a bright red top with white fluffy trim-- bounces up onto my bed, and yells, "Wake up wake up wake up wake up!"

"What's on fire?" I mutter, rubbing at my poor tired eyes. Apparently too much shopping will tire a person out.

"Nothing," Edward growls irritably. "It's nearly Christmas! We have to decorate and buy presents and stuff!"

Okay, I ask myself, when did this bear forget that I dodn't do Christmas? I'm a pagan, I don't have to do that stuff.

"Call it Yule, then, just get up and join in," and the furry bear-bomb leaves me alone.

I lie back and listen for a moment-- Edward's paws hop downstairs, and (was that the back door?) out into the back garden, where I hear Jossica's moans at being woken.

"I know how you feel." I roll out of bed, wondering if this house decorates itself, or if I have to do actual work. Because if I have to put up the decorations, we are not going to have *any* Santas. I'm sure that man is evil.

I look over the checklist for this year's Castle Gudanov lighting display. I still don't know how I didn't win first prize in last year's Winter Light Show. Castle Gudanov's lights consumed a couple of orders of magnitude more power than the winning display. Oh well, this year will be different.

Okay, item one. Multicolor LED (for fire safety) lights on all the trees in the surrounding forest. Check.

Item two. Xenon lights for the Castle itself. Check.

Item three. Water cooling system for Xenon light display. Check.

Item four. FAA clearance to allow activation of light display. Check.

Item five. Welder's goggles for looking at display directly. Check.

Item six. Fusion power plant online to power display. Check.

Item seven. Blimps for skywide holographic projection of the entire Chipmunk's Christmas Special from 1984 resampled into 3-D. Check.

Item eight. Lighting display command center prepared. Check.

All right. First prize is in the bag this year.

I find Achmed cursing at the computer he uses to monitor the household budget and maintenance. "What's wrong?"

"A 3 percent spike in electrical useage over last year."

"Oh, um, well, the plasma TV really does work nicely for computer games, but I didn't think it was that much a power hog."

"I factored that in. It's citywide."

"Christmas light season, then."

"Sitt, everyone in the city is having the same jump in their bills, even the ones who don't have bills."

I find my chair. "You mean--"

He nods grimly. "Gudanov's back. And he's hacked the system to spread out his power load."

"My god, what's he building this time? They're going to see it from space."

"I would'nt be surprised."

My pitiful minion has finally prepared a report on this 'Christmas' event that is apparently so important for retailers.

"Okay boss, here's what I've learned. It seems that Christmas is a holliday that centers around a single person." My minion sets a figurine down on my desk of a fat bearded man in a red suit with a wobbly head. "This is Santa Claus. According to the Christmas legend, he travels around the world in a single night and distributes presents to all children."

I cotemplate the figurine. "His appearance is deceptive. He must be a powerful mage to wield a time stop spell like that. Perhaps he can only cast it once a year."

"Anyhow. The celebrate this event, there is singing, baking of sweets, office parties, general merriment, the decorating of trees with shiny things, and the exchange of gifts. The decoration buying and gift buying makes this holliday very important to retailers. Oh there is another person who was born on Christmas, but he appears to be a minor player."

I lean back in my wonderfully soft leather chair and think about the situation. "It's obvious what needs to be done."

"Set up a Christmas section and jack up the prices on gift items so we can discount them as the buying season heats up?"

"No, my sortsighted lackey. We have to slay this Santa Claus and put an end to Christmas. Where can I find this Santa Claus?"

My witless minion thinks for a minute. "Well, it is said that he lives in a frozen wasteland call the north pole with his elves."

"Then I must begin making preparations. This elven army with undoubtable be well equipped with archers so we'll need to equip my orcs with large shields so they may advance on this ice fortress..."

My worthless minion pulls a piece of paper from his pocket. "Wait sir. I discovered that Santa Claus will be making an appearance at a local mall next week." He shows the me the flyer.

"Then that is where this Santa Claus will die."

"Then that is where this Santa Claus will die."

  Nooo! We have to save Chrstmas!

...waitaminute, I'm Jewish. Okay, then, never mind. As you were.

This elven army with undoubtable be well equipped with archers so we'll need to equip my orcs with large shields so they may advance on this ice fortress...

Damn, I was looking forward to the battle of Claus Deep. Claws Deep.

Oh, dear. Best go now before this gets any odder.

Too late...

(Has image of Santa slamming his sack of toys to the ground, shouting "You shall not pass!" Ultimately, he falls, to be replaced by Santa the White...)

(Either that, or having Lee Majors show up on a snowmobile to save the day.)

"Are you going to see Santa tomorrow?"

"Why would I? Jewish, remember? Besides, mall Santas are creepy."

"Yeah, but this is Blood. We get the real deal, not some surly alcoholic in a fake beard. He does a tour every year. Us, Sunnydale, I think Atlantis, and a few other places. And he's gonna be on the Mall-- that nice big grassy area in downtown, across from City Hall. They build a little cabin every year. It's pretty.