How would you feel,
If your world changed overnight,
Yet seems so familiar?
Such cliché moments.
Such mundane happenings.
Still, every time, your heart beats caring.
The past, repeating.
The present, transient.
The future, set in stone.
But,
You want all these to matter.
Vowed by your Determined life unfolding,
Not every story concludes at “The End”.
* * *
December 26th, 2069, 7.12 p.m.
It was Boxing Day. A day like any other Boxing Day. Except for the monsters, the artificial magic snow, and the great many giant Christmas Boxes that had amassed at the foot of Mount Ebott.
Wait a minute! You were sure yesterday there was nothing there at all. Unlike the rest of town, that particular area on the west side of the mountain had been left bare ever since you and Dad emptied out the kingdom’s coffers and bought the land.
The sight left you flabbergasted. Suddenly, there were boxes upon boxes, stretching out to the horizon. There were bush-sized boxes, tree-sized boxes, next to mailbox-sized boxes, lamppost-sized boxes. Never mind the building-sized ones!
What even happened?
A pair of Froggits hopped on over, eager to answer all your questions.
“Ribbit, ribbit! Croak, croak! Meow!”
Oh! That explains it. Just the other day, your monster friends had learned that the 2nd of Christmas was what the humans called ‘Boxing Day’. As usual – monsters being monsters – they took the meaning a little too literally. Every one banded together for a group project, and thus here you were: surrounded by boxes.
Impressive as always, guys! Teamwork truly makes the dream work.
You wanted to ask them what was inside. However, the freshly-complimented Froggits were so filled with glee, they had already hopped onward to their next destination, wherever that may be.
At that instant, the MTT-Studio van drove onto the scene, stopping nearby you. Mettaton in his iconic box form rolled right out.
“Oh Frisky-darling! You’re here early!”
Yup. You had Mom’s permission too.
“Lucky you, sweetheart! Your father is here to officiate the grand Boxing Day Unboxing. In fact, he’s exiting my van right now!”
A pair of horns poked out from the other side of MTT’s van just when Mettaton finished his sentence. Former King Asgore – your new adoptive father – appeared wearing his seasonal Santa suit.
You ran up to him to give a huge big hug.
“It’s good to see you here, my child. Hmm, am I using these ‘contractions’ correctly? It is-- I mean, it’s taking a while to get used to.”
Yep, yep! He’s doing great. What’s the occasion?
“Ah, you see, I’ve learned much about the Surface’s tradition of Christmas. For example: they do not celebrate it on a whim like we do. They have a very set date across the world in respect to its religious roots. Therefore… on this 2nd day of Christmas on our 2nd Christmas of the year. I thought it would fit the occasion if we give the townspeople the surprise of a lifetime. A gift of gifts, so to say.”
Mettaton spun around. “And that’s why MTT Studio is here to record this major historical event! And to set up the ribbons.”
Ribbons?
“Why yes! We need some of them to section off the area for the unveiling. The rest is to fancy up the boxes. After all, what are presents without a gratuitous mountain of ribbons? Anyways, leave all the complicated matters to me and my crew, darling. You just prepare yourself to be on camera.”
Heh heh, part of the new Ambassador job, right?
“Exactly! Toodles. Until we meet again soon~~”
And so, Mettaton’s staff got to work. The back of the van opened up to reveal all sorts of equipment: from microphones to speakers, as well as cameras, and rolls and rolls of cloth.
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Citizens started trickling in. Some of them arrived carrying a slip with a number on it.
Dad welcomed each one of them in person. He said: “Please keep the prize slip on you at all times.”
Over the course of the evening, a whole crowd had amassed at the border of the box zone. Peddlers of warm drinks and snacks started to appear. Sans was one of them, as usual. He had his stand set up at the first opportunity.
“Hey kiddo,” Sans greeted, “You’re here too, huh? Not feeling too frigid?”
You showed him your warm clothes with a smile. Mom made sure you’re ready. One hotdog for you and Dad, please.
“Sorry. It’s hot choco tonight. Want one anyway?”
…Sans is not gonna give you a heated chocolate bar on a sandwich, right?
“I could, but nah. It’s honest to goodness drinks tonight. Here, take a look.”
He poured one paper cup of the sweet liquidy goodness as a sample. Yep. It’s definitely a proper drink. If that’s the case, one cup of the good stuff for you and Dad.
“With whipped cream or no cream? Any marshmallows?”
Hmmm… how about both?
“Two hot chocolates with whipped cream and marshmallows coming right up.”
You expected some kind of a dumb prank to crop up somewhere. However, much to your surprise, what came out was a normal, serious, and delicious product.
“Heh,” said Sans, “Even a jokester like me gotta take a break once in a while. Welp. Time for ya to get going. Don’t want the drink to cool down too much, y’know.”
Yup, yup. You thanked Sans, paid the money, picked up the drinks, and then happily made your way back to your Dad.
Huh? You spotted some humans in winter clothes among the queue of monsters, lining up to get a drink of their own. It wouldn’t surprise you if curious tourists drove the distance to Ebott Town for the occasion. After all, your settlement had opened its doors to visitors since Halloween.
Among them, you spotted an old grandma with a dark blue shawl and a masquerade mask. Huh, you don’t remember seeing someone like her around before, ever. Today ain’t Halloween either.
The grandma turned her head towards you. Upon that instant, a sudden oppressive chill seeped into your bones.
…W-what’s this? The last time you had this sensation… you… you felt your sins crawl on your back…
Why? What was causing it? Could it be…
Your thoughts were interrupted when a young, cute, and spry lady walked past you.
Huh… The strange chill stopped. Perhaps it was the wind? Maybe you were getting too paranoid too soon.
In the young lady’s hands, there were two cups of hot chocolates without whipped cream or marshmallow. Le gasp.
“Here’s your hot choc!”
“Ah, thank you Anise. You’re a sweetheart.”
The young one must be either her granddaughter or grand niece. How adorable!
You excused your way through the crowd and reached your Dad at long last.
“Hot chocolate? For me?” said Dad.
You nodded. Well, what’s left of the heat at least.
“Thank you so much, my dear child. Ah… Asriel would’ve loved this.”
A moment of grief flashed in Dad’s eyes. But then, he soon snapped himself out of it. “I apologise. Frisk, we should first enjoy our drink together. Then, afterwards, get ready.”
…Yeah.
The moment of truth soon arrived. A ribbon stretched across the full length of the road, separating the crowd from the boxified west side of town. You looked forward to the event with anticipation.
Mettaton, acting as the master of ceremony, began his MTT-brand introduction.
“Beauties and Gentlebeauties, welcome to our very first Boxing Day on the Surface! What is this strange after-Christmas event, you ask? Well, Christmas is a very, very busy season for humanity. Many of them have to work on that auspicious day, the horror! Thankfully, some thoughtful bosses compensated the staff with a day-off after the festivities were over. Employees were given boxed gifts as an appreciation for their tireless efforts. And so, Boxing Day was born!”
“What a nice little slice of history, don’t you think? Without further ado, let’s get the show on the road. Wave your prize slips above your head, everyone!”
The monsters raised their slips high in the air.
“Wonderful! The Dreemurr Kingdom has prepared these for you as a sign of gratitude for all the years we’ve been together in the Underground. We would love nothing more than to see you live happy, fulfilled lives as free monsters on The Surface.”
“Once our Ambassador of Monsterkind officiates the proceedings, please look for a box with your number on it. Give the decorated container a little charge of magic and poof! It shall be yours to claim!”
Mettaton himself presented you with a humongous pair of scissors, so big that you had to hold it together with Dad. He may have abdicated the throne, but he’s still the people’s guest of honour.
“Please cut the ribbon, my darlings~~~!”
One, two, three!
On the count to three, you and Dad snipped the ribbon in half. People cheered as the loose ends fell on the road.
Monsters moved in to look for their gifts. Some picked up the smaller packages piled by the side, others gathered in front of the building-sized boxes.
Many pulses of magic later, the packaging puffed into a spray of colourful paper confetti. The monster folk gasped in wonder.
“Apartment keys!”
“M-my first house on the Surface, with a yard!”
“My application for a grocery store passed?!?!”
“Studio for clubs! A real studio!”
“Yaaaaaay! Playground! Playground!”
“This is going to be such a beautiful garden when Spring comes.”
In other words, this year’s gift for the people was a whole new district. How did they manage to hide from you all this time?
Dad leaned close to your ear and whispered: “A little illusion magic goes a long way.”
Oooh, cheeky.
Mettaton gave Dad the microphone. As Santa, the Former King of Monsters thus said: “Ho, ho, ho! Merry Christmas!”
You watched the jolly celebrations with a nostalgic smile on your face. On one hand, you’re happy to see them happy: this scene never gets old, regardless of how often you’ve seen it.
On the other hand… this marks the end of your peaceful trouble-free year. When the calendar ticks to 2070, all sorts of turmoil would start storming in. Anxiety would later haunt your sleep.
You never got used to that either.
* * *
Ring, ring, ring, so the phone went.
“Report, Anise Anise. …Hmm. I see. What did that short skeleton sell this time? …Regular hot chocolate? No heated chocolate bars on a sandwich? Noted.”
“Artificer Willowherb has a message for me? …Hmm… It’s worse than I thought… I’ll inform Judge Caraway about her observations. Please send my thanks to the Artificer for her advice. Be sure to escort her back to her village safe and sound.”
“Merry Christmas to you too. Please enjoy the rest of your leave. Goodnight.”
Click.
“…Yet another cycle with minimal changes. The child excels at keeping up appearances. Come next year, I must put my plans in motion. When will this one circle be broken, I wonder?”