#657. Christmas Blogathon of Doom!!! returns

The Christmas Blogathon of Doom was something that happened last year.  It was participated in by folks like Briane Pagel, the ubiquitous Pat Dilloway, Andrew Leon, Vanna Smythe, and Lara Schiffbauer as a shameless and innovative way to promote creative projects.  At the time, you may or may not recall, we thought the Mayans had doomed us all with their poor calendar-making skills.  We're still here (or perhaps we're someplace else and we're just waiting for M. Night Shyamalan to explain), so I figured that was excuse enough to do a reprise.  That and I wanted a reason to write a story that occurred to me the other day...

The Snowman

I don't know what we were expecting at the time.  I'm sure I knew then, but too much has happened since.  I'm rattled.  I'm pretty sure I'm going to die.  And how these things often seem to go, it all seemed so innocent at the start... 

Jimmy, Lucy and I were just some kids playing in the snow.  Even kids get cold after a while.  They remember that they're outside in the middle of winter.  We ducked into this antique shop and had a look around.  I don't remember the name of the place.  Maybe it's just as well.  God knows what else lurks precariously in its apparently harmless trinkets of years gone by. 

The hat, the stupid hat, the ridiculous top hat.  It was out of our reach.  We should have kept it that way.  The shop owner, who didn't have anything better to do, had been watching us.  He had a musty odor.  He asked if we could use some help.  Probably he thought we were trying to steal things.  I'm sure Jimmy did, but that was no longer important after what happened.  Lucy eagerly accepted the hat.  She looked adorable when she put it on.  I didn't realize how cute she was at the time.  I probably would have married her. 

We walked back out into the gusty air.  It was flurrying.  I said we should make a snowman.  I should have kept my stupid mouth shut. 

By the time we were done, I found myself looking at the hat that still sat perched on Lucy's head.  I should have just been like every other boy, nursing a childhood crush on the girl I was lucky enough to call my best friend.  But I was looking at that stupid hat.  I said, "Why don't we put it on the snowman's head?"  And so we did. 

The snowman came to life.  It began to dance and sing.  Jimmy and I actually joined in, and then so did Lucy.  For one brief magical moment, the world was exactly the fantasy you can only really believe in when you're young. 

And then, just as childhood itself is always threatening, the looming awareness you can only fight if you contradict everyone else around you, the real world reared its head.  The snowman turned toward us.  And then he ran away.  

He ran so fast that it was all we could do to keep him just in sight, keenly aware that our boots were not at all like our summer sneakers.  Jimmy was laughing, Lucy giggling, and I'm sure I had a huge grin on my face.  We thought this was the greatest development yet.  How were we to know that the snowman would so quickly develop a mind of its own, or that it would be resentful that it owed its whole existence to a fluke, or that the hat had once belonged to a serial killer? 

That's the explanation for the Snowman Murders.  It was actually a snowman.  The snowman.  The explanation no one would believe except the lunatic fringe.  When Jimmy died, I didn't believe it myself.  When I was holding Lucy in my arms, the years having passed and her having become really a great beauty, I started to believe.  I didn't want to, but now I had to.  And it was all my fault. 

The snowman is coming for me, isn't he?  Perhaps this is how it will finally end.  If I'm lucky.

#501. Blogathon of Doom!!! (Part 3)

Here we are in my final round of 

after three of four intended weeks of participation.  That's okay, because I am now going to make it all better by sharing with you the story of

The Christmas Cat

Once long ago in a village somewhere in Iceland, a young cartoonist was busy writing about the adventures of anthropomorphic cats.  One of them was a serial killer.  This story is not about the serial killer anthropomorphic cat.  In fact, it is not about any of those anthropomorphic cats.  It is, as the title suggests, about the Christmas Cat.

 (the terrible image from those Flawless Kitty Logic posts

you know nothing about returns!)

The Christmas Cat had come once again to this small village somewhere in Iceland because the young cartoonist suffered from a terrible malady.  This malady is only possible on Christmas because it relates directly to Christmas, specifically in the exchanging of gifts.  Each year the young cartoonist hoped to receive among his gifts an article of clothing.  It did not matter what that article was, or even if it was an article about clothing, just so long as someone gave him something clothing related.  It could even be an old pair of socks with holes the side of neck openings in sweaters, even hideous sweaters that are only knitted to exchange at Christmas in some insidious plot to make the holiday more garish than it already is.
     Except the young cartoonist had not always received the gift of an article of clothing at Christmas, and this was how he came to know of the Christmas Cat.
     For you see, the Christmas Cat strikes at those who do not receive at least one article of clothing as a gift, even a hideous sweater that is only knitted to exchange at Christmas, or an old pair of socks.  The Christmas Cat strikes without mercy at such unlucky souls!  It uses them as batting practice, which is different than the batting practice in baseball, as cats can and will unsheathe their claws, and the Christmas Cat always unsheathes its claws when it strikes those who do not receive at least one article of clothing!
     It is a most terrifying sight, the furry creature stirring down the chimney with care, with hopes that its victim has much skin to share.
     The young cartoonist subsequently begged his family and acquaintances each year for some article of clothing, even a hat he would otherwise not have been caught dead wearing, or a necktie with ducks on it.  To his horror, the young cartoonists's family and acquaintances did not heed his suggestions.  On Christmas, with sweat pouring down his face, the young cartoonist opened each gift with care, hoping to find some article of clothing.
     One present, two presents, three presents and more, not a stitch or a zipper could be found on the floor!
     The young cartoonist looked about the room around the Christmas tree, watched to see wrapping paper stir.  The smell of gravy soon filled the air, and he knew that the Christmas Cat was coming with its usual flair!  He threw on a blanket, he put small kids before him, but the Christmas Cat found him as if on a whim.
     Tiny paws struck out again and again, and a rhyme kept coming at him for some reason every now and then!
     Perhaps this was the reason the young cartoonist from the village in Iceland began to write stories of anthropomorphic cats which featured at least one serial killer.  Then he moved on to Ninja Turtles, but the story everyone remembered from the young cartoonist was the tale of the Christmas Cat, but they were all too foolish, believing it was just science fiction.
     But woe be to them, for they would soon face the wrath of the tiny white cat, whose paws hid great shiny claws which struck like a pin!

So ends my participation in the Christmas Blogathon of Doom!  My book,

 is free for the last time in its Kindle edition, which means in the future you will have to buy a copy (preferably a paperback copy).

If you haven't heard already, I'm working on an anthology of flash fiction called "Project Mayhem," and you'll welcome to participate.  You're even free to write something about how much you hate rhymes, just so long as you can make a crude story out of it.  Honestly, I'm that desperate.

The blogathon continues to its conclusion:

• our friendly host Briane Pagel at Thinking the Lions is eager to fling one of his many books at you (12/20)
• PT Dilloway is equally eager to discuss Tales of the Scarlet Knight, of which A Hero's Journey comprises the first volume (12/21)
• Vanna Smythe over at her eponymous blog is also eager, but with Protector, which is Book One in her Anniversary of the Veil series (12/22)
• for some reason Briane concludes the blogathon himself (12/24)

It should be noted that the whole end-of-the-world thing I went on about last time (and possibly why this is a Christmas blogathon OF DOOM) still has a chance of happening on Dilloway's last day.  No word yet if he will be posting an equally ridiculous message about this Mayan cycle of renewal/MESSAGE OF DOOM.

Merry Christmas!

#497. Christmas Blogathon of Doom!!! (Part 2)

I'm sorry to inform you that Christmas has been cancelled.  It has been cancelled, however, for a good cause, because today is the end of the world.

We know that it is the end of the world because the Mayan calender told us so.  This is a calendar worth paying attention to as it has been around for seven thousand years.  If you had a pair of pants that had been around for seven thousand years you'd take it seriously, too.  Also, you should probably wash it again, just for good measure, before wearing it.

As it's the end of the world you should probably exchange presents today. Give them all away.  Give everything away, because the few people who will really appreciate it and are therefore proven dumb will no longer be able to bother you, much like that really old pair of pants, which you have finally been able to get rid of.

Kiss everyone and everything.  Seriously.  Kiss everyone you meet and everything you see.  It no longer matters if you look crazy, which is the same reason those dumb friends are accepting all your things, including the ancient pants.  It's your last chance to express love, so you might as well embrace it.  You have no doubt squandered most of the other opportunities you've ever had, including that time the creepy bus driver accidentally patted you on the shoulder rather than the empty spot next to you in his attempt to corral other kids quickly into seats in the morning.  He was only looking for love, you idiot!  And what did you do?  It's best not to speculate now.  You are a rotten individual.  You need good karma, because it's the end of the world and it's not looking good for you in what follows.

Speaking of which, you might as well start thinking about that, too, because this is more of what you've been squandering, your own future, which admittedly at the moment looks bleak but in fact is filled with unspeakable wonder, which you know because most ghosts can barely speak and that's proof enough.  They're really good at knocking things over.  You should start practicing that, too.

You have no time to lose!  The world is coming to an end!  This is bad because the world is what you live on.  Without it you would be expected to float in space, and everyone knows only alpacas can do that, but in very specific circumstances, and they don't accept passengers.

Consequently, the end of the world, just to summarize, means that you will be dead.  You can scrap that will, because everyone else will be too.  Now is not the time to become depressed, either, because it's not as if the Mayans didn't warn us.

Also, it may actually be 12/21/12 when this occurs.

Cheers!

The good news is that in your few remaining hours my book, Monorama, is free today, so the entertainment is cheap.  It will also be free in the sense that if you're up to it watching everything end will be quite amusing.

Not that it will matter, but this blogathon is scheduled to continue after today:

• Briane Pagel at Thinking the Lions, promoting his many books (12/13/12)
• PT Dilloway on his blog, promoting A Hero's Journey (12/14/12)
• Andrew Leon on Strange Pegs, promoting The House On the Corner and Shadow Spinner (12/17/12)
• Lara Schiffbauer at Motivation for Creation (12/18/12)

#495. Christmas Blogathon of Doom!!!

Hey!  I'm actually doing it this time!  Briane Pagel has organized this blogathon.  I was supposed to participate last Wednesday, but completely forgot about it.  Not this time!  (And hopefully not the next two Wednesdays, either, because I signed up for those dates as well.)

Anyway!  We're rapidly approaching Christmas!  That means a lot of Christmas TV specials are playing at the moment, because for some reason people don't like watching them at other points in the year.  What's up with that?  Are you next going to tell me that you don't believe in the Christmas Cat?

(For those completely unfamiliar with this blog prior to this past April's 

A-to-Z challenge, which would be all of you, that's the extremely crappy 

mascot of a semi-recurring feature here at Scouring Monk entitled Flawless Kitty Logic)

I will draw inspiration for today's blogathon post from one of these specials.  You will never guess in a million years which one!

Born With a Red Nose

I was born with a red nose.  I have no idea how that happened, because in the years that've followed, I certainly did the research, and no other reindeer in history had one.  I know I have a red nose because everyone I've ever met has told me, "Hey, you have a red nose!"  Eventually Santa decided this could be useful, as not only is my nose red but it glows.  If I were in a comic book, I would be known as a mutant, although I would prefer razor sharp claws to a red nose that glows.
     We can't always get what we want.  I know that as much from my nose as for all the years I've spent at the North Pole, because as you might have heard, even if by some chance you haven't heard about me and my nose, the North Pole is home to Santa and his workshop.  I live just south of the workshop, so don't ask me what it's like.  The closest I've ever gotten is the loading dock where Santa's sleigh is filled every year.  It's a little difficult to ignore the smell of the elves, however.  Whatever else they do in the workshop, I suspect there is no company shower provided for them.  They work all year round. It's okay, though.  They're always singing.  People who sing are by definition happy.  Don't let all your musicals fool you.
     It's not such a bad place to be.  I hear that you think it's pretty cold up here, but as far as I'm concerned, it's pretty warm where you live.  I imagine global warming has something to do with it.  We talk about that crap here, too, although we only really care once a year, which I guess means that Christmas is a little like Earth Day for us.  We don't really think of Christmas for all the holiday cheer you enjoy.  For us it's the day we finally end the fiscal year.  We celebrate the day after.
     For a few months we get to enjoy ourselves, which is when I get to hang out with the wife, the dentist, the prospector, and of course the bumble.  We don't really do much but exchange stories.  Although I have only one responsibility concerning Christmas and it takes one night to achieve, Santa likes to keep me close.  To tell the truth, I think of the reindeer gang and Santa more as family than the wife, but don't tell her that!  We just had a doe, whose nose is white as snow (but that's another story entirely), so I'm definitely happy.  Santa can sometimes stress out, though.  I'm happy to give him moral support, or whatever it is I do.  It's just good to be around him.  His laughter is always infectious, though sometimes a few of us wonder if he doesn't fake it every now and again.  Santa's as genuine as they come, don't get me wrong.  But even he can't live up to his image a hundred percent.  For that kind of commitment to character, your best known attribute has to be firmly planted at the end of your face.  I should know.
     If you don't get what you want this year, please don't assume that it was deliberate.  You have no idea how hectic it is to juggle the wish lists of the entire world's population.  Now if you'll excuse me, I must be going.  Before that, however, here are a few suggestions:

•  Briane Pagel on his blog Thinking the Lions, one of his many books (12/6)
• PT Dilloway on his blog, promoting A Hero's Journey (12/7)
• Andrew Leon on his blog Strange Pegs, promoting either The House on the Corner or Shadow Spinner (12/10)
• Briane Pagel again, since he's our merry host (12/11)
• Me again, promoting Monorama, which is free all day today.

Incidentally, I'm also plugging Mouldwarp Press #1 "Project Mayhem, a new anthology I'm accepting submissions for, details to be found here, and I'd be very happy if you considered participating.