North Pole, Christmas Town:

At first Orcs fall to the lances of the elves and Santa's mighty sword, but the numbers are too great. Some of the elves begin to fall, and an Orc's flail wraps Santa's sword and pulls him from the sleigh. Santa discards the chain wrapped sword and whips out authentic reproductions of Legolas's knives (made as a gift for a Krav-loving resident of Sang Sacre) from his belt.

The elves and Santa are surrounded by the mass of elves. Many an Orc falls to mighty Santa-fu, but the numbers are too great. There can be only one end. The Orcs start yelling "Uk Ta!" which means "Victory is at hand and soon we will feast on the flesh of our foes maininated in a tasty lemon sauce with just a hint parsley for presentation purposes and feast on their brains sweetened with sugar and baked into pies for dessert!" in Orcish.

Suddenly the sun rises over a ridge in the South (yeah, yeah techincally everything is South that isn't very useful). Over the ridge steps a large white figure. It's the Easter Bunny!

From behind the Bunny swarms hundreds of smaller bunnies, launching themselves towards the Orc with nasty big pointy teeth bared. The Easter bunny hops along as well, lobbing exploding eggs into the Orc horde.

Santa and the elves raise a cheer and attack with new vigor. Santa slashes though Orcs yelling things like "Ho, ho, ho, yo bitch!". The bunnies hop into the Orcs and Orcs parts start flying. Also, some doves fly through some smoke.

The Orc army is routed and commence running away with great speed yelling "Uk Ta!" which translates into "Run Away! Run Away! The killer bunnies are killing us with their big nasty pointy teeth and we do not wish to be rabbit food!" in Orcish.

There is much rejoicing in Christmas Town. The elves start singing "We are Santa's elves..." etc.

Santa hands his knives to an elf. "Vacuum pack these and get them wrapped."

"But they are covered in Orc blood."

"That's why they need to be vacuum packed, keeps the blood fresh."

Santa heads back to the Toy Factory to get the operation moving again. "Time to get to work my friend." He says to the elf.

"But aren't you going to celebrate our victory Santa?" Asks the elf.

Santa sighs. "With great power comes great responsibility."

*bzzt bzzt bzzt bzzt bz--clunk*

mrglezrfm...

t three days ago...

"Hector! Where's my list marked 'Crap I Gotta Do'?"

"Which one, MM? There's a billion Post-Its all over marked that. Some of them are in ancient tongues...couple in, what is this? Binary?..."

"Ignore those."

"And one that's just a big circle and the words 'Ha Ha Ha' written over and over..."

"Yeah, ignore that one too."

"Still, boss...which one?"

"Ah, never mind..."

*bzzt bzzt bzzt bzz-clunk*

t two days ago...

"Hector, you ever have that feeling that you're forgetting something?"

"Sure. Sometimes it's my socks. Is it your socks?"

"Let me check. No."

"Well, if you can't remember it probably isn't that important."

"True. Still..."

*bzzt bzzt bzzt bzz--clunk*

t four days ago...

"Wish my pen hadn't run out. I must remember to do this."

"Do what, boss?"

"Hm?"

*bzzt bzzt bzzt bzz--clunk*

t five days ago...

"Look for me in the east, on the fifth day, at dawn."

"East? What are you talking about? This is the North Pole, son. Everything is south from here."

"Right, right. I knew that. But, uh...look. Look for me in that part of the south on the fifth day."

"At dawn."

"Right."

*bzzt bzzt bzzt --clunk*

"Mrfglesnorfplepplep...OH CRAP!!"

The door slams open. "What, boss? What?!"

"Hector! It's the fifth day! Santa's in trouble. I OVERSLEPT!"

"Aw, crap!"

"Okay, okay, so...all right. No need to rally the troops..."

"What troops?"

"A minor quibble, Hector, don't bother me. That damnable rabbit has pulled my ass out of the fire and don't think he's not going to pester me about that until I set things right for him someday..."

"Easter's not too far away."

"We can only hope some unspeakable evil has it in for Christian holidays mixed with pagan symbolism."

"Maybe some madman who wants to keep Easter pure?"

"Which way? No, never mind, it's too early to speculate. And we're off the subject. The point is, I told Santa I'd be there on the fifth day--"

"At dawn."

"I told Santa I'd be there on the fifth day AND I should put in an appearance. Did you get the horse?"

"Uh. Yeah..."

"And is he the finest horse bred by the Horse Lords evereverever?"

"Well, there's kinda a shortage, you understand, of Horse Lords around these parts..."

"What is this fine beast's name?"

"Crappyfax."

"What kind of a name...WHAT IN THE HELL IS THAT?"

"Uh. Crappyfax."

"Why is he all smudged and blurry?"

"Well, you see..."

"I'm not even sure it's a horse..."

"It's kinda supposed to be a pun, MM..."

*blink* *blink*

"I don't get it."

*sigh* "It's not for you to get, MM."

"Whatever. Is he fast?"

"Oh, sure...he's fast. Just not very clear."

"I'll have to chance it."

"Well crap!" I comment as I watch my Orc army flee from a much smaller group of little white fluffy animals. "What are those things anyhow?"

"Could be bunnies sir." Says my assistant.

I take a look at the big bunny who ruined my plans. "What is that?"

"Easter bunny sir. Sort of the Santa Claus of Easter only with lesser gifts and candy."

"That bunny will have to die someday."

"Easter's not too far away."

"Yes, perfect. This bunny will die on the very day for which it was named. Good thinking Deimos."

"Thank you sir."

"Meanwhile we have work to do."

"Are we still going to destory Christmas sir?"

"Not this year. We're going to sell Christmas crap at a large markup and then clearance it out later. If you can't beat them, then profit from them."

"Oh, good idea sir."

I smack my minion. "Of course it's a good idea!"

Apparently, Miracleman is planning on being the fifth horseman of the Apocalypse: Hung-over.

Apparently, Miracleman is planning on being the fifth horseman of the Apocalypse: Hung-over.

You laugh...but he's real. And he's a BASTARD.

It's status report time. Time to see how sucessful the retailing of evil is going. So far I'm unimpressed with the results. Evil is just not on the increase, in fact nothing much is going on at all. It's time for a new plan.

"So, my lowly minions, this is the new plan. We will forge some rings of power to give to the city council members, but in secret we will forge a master ring into which I'll pour my malice, my..." I notice my minions giving each other looks. "What!?"

One minion nervously speaks up. "It's been done sir, there were movies made and oscars awarded and..."

With a little waggling of figures I conjure a portal from which massive clawed arms emerge and drag the screaming minion into their hellish dimension.

"Good point. We need to come up with something new."

"Honey? What's this gold ring in the bottom of your top dresser drawer?"

"Bob, why are you poking through my drawers--oh, god, I didn't say that. What ring?"

"Pretty stone in the top of it, looks old. We're not going to have a troop of adventurers coming through looking for it, are we?"

"If we do, I've got dibs on the short, dark-haired one with the haunted eyes."

"OK. I want the tall scruffy one."

"Which one?"

"Yeah ..."

I walked through the backyard, kicking at the ugly piles of decaying snow, in a thoroughly irritated mood.

"Brian!" I shouted, and not for the first time. "Where the hell are you, honey?"

There was a strange half-choked gurgle sounding from behind the woodpile. I grabbed a piece of kindling and ventured a glance.

My husband crouched there, studying - nay, fondling - the metal object in his hands. The light bounced off his scalp as he turned to me, hissing, "It'sssss mine! My preciousssssssss."

"Yes, sweetie," I sighed, "it's yours. No one is trying to take it from you."

I reached down in an attempt to help him to his feet. "NO!" He scrabbled further away from me and bared his teeth. "It'sssss mine, you can't have it, filthy wivesesssss."

"Okay, fine, have it your way." I was angry, and tired of his possessiveness. "Fat lot of good it's going to do you out here," I muttered as I headed to the house. "And it's not like I can't just get up off the couch and turn the channels manually."

Hans and I finish loading the last of the kiosks on the truck. Okay, by loading, I mean watching the robot do the loading, but the kiosks are loaded and that's the point.

"So boss, what is all of this for?" asks Hans.

"Project H."