In a dimension of pure darkness, as though there was not a single light in all of existence, a single spotlight appeared, shining down and illuminating a single person. The man was dressed immaculately in a burgundy colored suit and tie of glossy silk, with a pure black shirt, which accented his style. It was a garish choice of wardrobe, suitable only for a man who wanted to catch the eyes of others and highlight how confident and dangerous he really was. The clothing was not the most prominent feature the man possessed. That would be his hair.
The man’s hair started a pure, light consuming black at the roots, and slowly gained color as it extended down his gently bemused features. The black turned to a deep red, which turned into a glowing red, until finally taking on the glowing orange color of superheated metal. The man’s haircut looked as though it was held in place by hair gel as the hair was combed back behind the ears and hanging halfway down his neck.
The figure bowed, his act of politeness simultaneously looking extremely dignified and sarcastic at the same time. As the figure lifted his head back up, he said, “Welcome readers, to the Stop Calling Me A Demon King Christmas Special!”
Lights erupted from nowhere, illuminating a gaudy and over decorated sign, stating that this place was, in fact, the location for the SCDK Christmas Special. The word Special was written under another word, “Spectacular,” that had been crossed out in green paint. Perhaps because green was a more festive color than black?
“The characters of SCDK would like to thank all the readers out there, and celebrate Christmas together. And in the spirit of the season, we’re doing this by putting on a performance with all of you out there at home in mind! I, Chaz, the Entity of Pure Chaos will be your master of ceremonies for the night. And now, without further ado, our first performance is a rendition of the Twelve Days of Christmas by my own special Chaos Choir!”
Chaz disappeared into the dark under him as though being absorbed into quicksand. From the area past where the entity stood, the darkness suddenly seemed to take on a tactile nature and part like a set of stage curtains. A set of choir risers stoond beyond, with over a hundred people just beyond of every height, shape, and gender. Yet all of them possessed the exact same face of Chaz, including a chubby midget who was as fat as he was round with horribly crossed eyes and was bellowing out a bass voice that could shake the room. With perfect unison, the Chaos Choir began to sing their song.
On the Twelfth Day of Christmas, a Baka gave to thee-
Twelve Force Choked Soldiers
Eleven Chained Up Crooks
Ten Acts of Violence
Nine Street Urchins
Eight Pointless Sub-Plots
Seven Geeky References
Six Confusing Jokes
FIVE EX-TRA CHAPTERS!
Four Potential Waifus
Three Travel Chapters
Two Summoned Protagonists
And An Entity of Pure Chaoooooooos
The tubby midget opens his choir robe to reveal that he was, in fact, a HUMAN BOMB!
KABOOOOOOOOM!
The stage erupts in fiery explosions to make a Michael Bay movie green with jealousy, as each member of the choir explodes in turn. From the smouldering wreckage of the choir stands emerges an immaculate and untouched Chaz who kindly waves to the home audience, saying, “Merry Christmas, everyone, and enjoy the show!”
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CALLIC THE RED NOSED RAINDOG
There once was a raindog by the name of Callic, who had an extremely red nose. This nose was quite unusual, in that Callic hadn’t drunk nearly enough booze for his nose to shine so brightly. This brought suspicion upon Callic of being some kind of dangerous mutation, that would turn upon his raindog peers one day is bloody wrath, and he was thus ostracized and mocked by all the other raindogs.
“I hate being a raindog outcast,” complained Callic to his secret (lol) girlfriend in their raindoghouse.
“Don’t worry Callic,” said Iyleen, who was wearing a set up fake puppy ears for the part. They were a completely different color from her own natural hair, showing just how little funding Stop Calling Me A Demon King gets from its viewership. If people had just donated more through Patreon, perhaps it would have resulted in better wardrobing? “I at least know that you’re a wonderful raindog, and that one day, you’ll be admired by-”
Pound pound!
There came a knocking at the door, which Callic and Iyleen seemed to be completely confused by.
“Ahem. I know you’ll be a wonderful raindo-”
POUND POUND!
“Ah! You’ll be a wonderful rain-!”
POUND POUND POUND POUND!
“Stop stepping on our lines,” shouted Callic as he threw open the front door to his raindoghouse. “We’ve still got two full pages until your entrance!”
The figure that emerged through the opened door didn’t seem to care, and just started delivering his line. The figure was Xander, adorned in a red santa suit, but without the padding for the full belly and a crappy beard held on by an elastic band. The lacking wardrobe budget had struck again!
“Callic the Red Nosed Raindog,” said Xander, completely stomping all over Callic and Iyleen’s roles. “I need your toxic waste nose to guide my sleigh this night! Now jump to it, I have a quota to make!”
Xander Claus started pushing Callic out the door and quickly strapped him into the harness to the sleigh. Xander Clause then climbed onto the driver’s seat while Callic looked around and asked, “Wait, where’s the other raindogs?”
“Don’t need ‘em, you’re doing all the heavy lifting tonight Callic.”
“What, that’s redicul-WHIPCRACK-ouch!”
“On Slave Labor! On Cruelty! On Exploitation! On Trafficking! On Crimes Against Humanity! A-hahahahaha!”
“Shouldn’t it be ‘HOHOHO’?”
“Not feeling it!”
WHIPCRACK!
“Ouch!”
“A-hahahahaha!”
“Aren’t you enjoying this too much?!”
“Right back at’cha Callic! I saw how happy you were after elbowing me in the face while we were filming Maoujanai Chapter 1!”
“That was in a different reality! And the script said I could!”
“So you don’t deny enjoying it?!”
“Not at all!”
“Well I’ll enjoy my script saying I can whip you!”
WHIPCRACK!
“Ouch!”
“Mush BITCH! Mush! A-hahahahaha!”
And a Merry Christmas was had by all.
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The figure of Chaz relaxing in front of a cozy fire in a comfortable armrest chair emerges. For some reason, Chaz was wearing a robe over his fancy suit while sitting. This was not a stylish robe as one would expect, but rather a cheap ass third hand terrycloth robe with various happy faced emojis sewn on that were half ripped off from the wear and tear of age and laundry runs in a crappy washer and drier.
“Hello, reader,” says Chaz as though just noticing your presence. He finishes up poking at the fire with a poker, the fire reacting with a haunting howl as though from an extradimensional monstrosity that is writhing in agony, before setting the poker aside and sitting back into his chair.
“Welcome back. I hope you’re enjoying the show so far. As a small break while the paramedics see to Callic, I thought I would share a special little event we here at Stop Calling Me A Demon King have prepared for you all. Every member of the cast had written down what Christmas means to them, and I have those notes right here in this Sorting Hat.”
“Help me,” cries the hat, “I’m being held against my will!”
Chaz quickly punches the hat, knocking it out cold, “Ahaha, he’s such a kidder. Well, the first note says… ‘What is Christmas? I’ve never heard of it before.’ Hmm. Uh, second one says, ‘Will there be food?’ Well, okay. Third one says, ‘A reason to have a heartwarming family gathering, and rigidly enforced tradition. Because without tradition, all family values break apart…’ Uh… Fourth one! ‘Block buster video game releases!’ Well, I suppose… The fifth one… oh, man. I can’t possibly read this one on the air. Is this what goes on in that guy’s head? The next is… illegible… Um… Okay, this one says, ‘An opportunity to carefully study the social traditions and norms of the Subjects, and use them to further one’s understanding of the creatures that populate the other world…’ Okay, I think there’s something very wrong with the people in this fictional series…”
Saying thus, Chaz gently tosses the Sorting Hat aside, into the fireplace, where screaming and wailing break out as the flames take on horrible clawing qualities and began greedily, though not swiftly, devouring the hat. Speaking over the noise, Chaz warmly says with a kind smile, “Please enjoy the next segment.”
This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author's consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.
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WYATT AND THE TOY FACTORY
Dear Santa,
I’ve been a good little street urchin this year. I’ve hardly stolen anything that I didn’t need in order to survive, and I haven’t tormented any stray cats for fun either. While I’m confident that this alone is enough to put me on the Nice List, I just wanna explain that Pete totally had it coming, and it was just a baby tooth I knocked out, so it totally doesn’t count. And for my gift this year, there’s only one thing I want. It’s to have a tour of your toy factory, Santa, which is something I’ve dreamed of for years.
Signed, Wyatt.
* * * * *
“Wyatt,” called the voice from outside Wyatt’s home. “Wyatt, this is Santa!”
Wyatt opened the door, his eyes gleaming to find a Xander Claus standing there, in all his red suited and poorly bearded magnificence. “Santa,” cried Wyatt, “I thought you’d come down the chimney!”
In a happy voice, because Xander couldn’t do the deep Jolly of a real Santa Impersonator, he said, “You live in a refrigerator box, kid. Don’t ask the impossible. So, you wanted that tour or not?”
“Do I ever!”
“Good, jump in the sleigh, and put this bag over your head. Santa needs to keep his workshop’s location Undisclosed for security purposes.”
“Okay!”
After getting on the piloting seats of the sligh and donning the black cloth bag, Wyatt feels a sharp pain in his arm. “Ouch,” the child exclaimed. “What was that?”
“Just a little something to knock you out until we reach the workshop. Sleep tight kid.”
And with that, Wyatt blacked out.
* * * * *
Some time later, there was a sudden pain in Wyatt’s other arm, and a tingling all through his brain, rocketing him into full wakefulness. Wyatt sat bolt upright and found that not only was he no longer wearing the black hood, but the sleigh was now parked in front of a large snow covered warehouse in an industrial district of some town.
“Welcome to ‘Toy Foundry 01’ kid,” said Xander Claus. “It’s the nerve center of my operation. It may not look like much from the outside, but just you wait.”
Xander Claus strode over to a large door and knocked a set rhythm, to which a panel in the door slid open and two eyes, as cold and clear blue as ice peered out. The panel closed and the door opened. On the other side was a black armored guard with a halberd slung from a shoulder, and atop the sternly blank metal of the helmet was a festive Santa cap, and a lightly ringing bell on the tip. Wyatt was very nearly intimidated by the figure, but the hat kinda ruined it’s presence.
“Keep up the good work, Mur,” said Xander Claus as he pushed the kid past the opened door and guard.
“Who was that,” asked Wyatt.
“Santa’s Little Enforcer, kid. I gotta keep the flies away somehow.”
Xander Claus led Wyatt to a horribly rusted freight elevator, pushed the numbers in a sequence, and the back panel of the elevator slid open to a hall of immaculate white with a gentle green mint colored tile on the floor. Xander Claus led the way into the opened path, which had windows on each side looking down onto great chambers for assembly of various goods. There was a clean room for the assembly of laptops. There was a manufactory for action figures. There was a press room for Blue Ray DVDs. An assembly line for flat screen TVs. Every window in the facility held it’s own secret workshop for the creation of the latest and most coveted goods in society.
“Woooooooow,” said Wyatt, his mouth agape, being surprised, wondered, and impressed at every window he passed.
“I thought you’d like it,” said Xander Claus. “I get a rush of satisfaction every time I walk this path, myself. Enjoy the view while you can, we’re nearly at my office.”
“Santa has an office?”
“Of course I do, what kind of Company President would I be without one?”
“I had no idea that Santa had a company! What company is it?”
Xander Clause chuckled for a moment and said, “If people even stopped for a moment to consider that, the answer would be obvious. Look right over there, kid, and you’ll see.”
The sign for Santa’s company was plastered all over the side wall of the large subterrainian waiting room, with a large reception desk housing a secretary with hair that bordered on dark red and smouldering orange behind it, with a pair of animal ears on her head and a telepone headset on her ear. She was too busy to even spare a glance towards the kid as she greeted her boss, with one hand covering the mic of her headset.
She said, “Welcome back to Amazon.com, Mr. President.”
“Thank you, Sion. Though I’d only stepped out to run an errand. You alright, kid? You look like your brain just exploded.”
“Wh-wh-wh-,” stuttered Wyatt, working to get his mind to catch up with his mouth. It eventually happened, as he said, “How can you run Amazon.com?! That’s a huge company!”
“Step into my office, kid, and I’ll explain.”
After stepping through a grand double door, and closing it behind him, Xander sits Wyatt down in a cushy visitor’s seat as Xander Claus takes off his red jacket and overalls, revealing a tailored business suit underneath. He then sat in the imposingly regal office chair that was behind a mahogany desk with the title of “The REAL President Santa” on a placard display upon it.
“So, kid,” asked Xander Claus as he poured water into a pair of crystal drinking glasses from an ornate water pitcher. “What exactly don’t you get about my situation?”
“Well, I thought you live in the North Pole.”
“I use to live in the arctic, but never the North Pole. There’s no real North Pole anyway, it’s all supposition and conflicting measurements with scientists debating each other. But I moved once satellites became a concern. It wouldn’t do for the governments to be able to pin down my location.”
“Well, I thought you had elves cobbling together teddy bears and rocking horses?”
“That shit’s passe, kid. Went out of style like the jitterbug. If gifts are meant to have any meaning they have to be modern. What kinda washed out hack would I be if I didn’t give people what they want, and pay for.”
“Yeah, what’s up with that,” demanded Wyatt. “Amazon is a business, people are buying your toys! You’re supposed to give them to good little girls and boys!”
“The concept of morality is vague at best, kid. And I never gave anything away. Parents have always purchased the crap they give their kids, I was just the manufacturer and delivery man. I tell you what, having UPS doing the rounds for me has really saved me a lot of bother.”
“Hey, yeah! Amazon is doing business every day of the year! Not just Christmas! What’s up with that!?”
“Haven’t people always wished for Christmas every day? Well, when I established Amazon, it was with that intention. Now people can buy gifts for other people, and especially themselves, every day and have them delivered to their homes. Seriously, what about that business model doesn’t sound like Santa Claus?”
“But- But- You’re making money off it!”
“Exactly,” said Xander Claus, leaning forward to point a dramatic finger, “And so can you!”
“What?”
“I need ambitious people, go getters who know what it’s like to have nothing to really appreciate what real power and authority means. Entitled people are a dime a dozen, but a kid with nothing, who’s willing to fight tooth and nail for a stolen candy bar, and then return it to the victim once retrieved, THAT’S who I want in my company!”
Wyatt’s face went white. “You actually knew about that?”
“Of course I did! Santa invented espionage to keep an eye on everyone in the world! While I may not have a Naughty and Nice List, Santa does have a Shit List. And I work hard to make sure it’s up to date. And in my investigations, I found out about you. Kid, I want you to work for me.”
“Whaaaaaaaa-?”
“You’d have tasty food every day, a warm bed, suitable clothing, and a career that I’ll be training you into from youth. It won’t be an easy life, you’ll face your share of business challenges, but it’s one that brings money, power, and respect. And trust. If I can’t trust you, Santa will toss you back on the street with a fabricated identity to discredit you entirely. Nothing personal, kid.”
“You want me to work in Santa’s Business Structure?”
“Yes. But, I can understand if the reality is far less enticing than the fantasy of elves cobbling together rag dolls and shit, and you wouldn’t want any part of-”
“Screw childhood fantasies, I wanna be rich and powerful!”
“That a lad! Welcome to the Company!”
And everyone lived happily ever after. Except for Santa’s enemies.
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“Ah, welcome back,” said Chaz in his berobed glory, with Yoda slippers on his feet. “I was just finishing up the decoration of the Christmas tree.”
True to his words, Chaz had just placed the last ornament on the tree. Each ornament was a glimmering sphere of glass, or something that could be glass. On closer inspection, every sphere glitters and shimmers with the swirling image of a galaxy inside it. Images too real to be painted on, or held suspended through a manufacturing method. In fact, if one stared long enough at the ornaments, one could see that the swirling masses of starlight were actually slowly moving…
“Well, this concludes our Christmas Special here at Stop Calling Me A Demon King, and it’s been a pleasure to have you all here. But as one last surprise, I’d like to say that we have a very special guest with us here, live via video chat, it’s Jesus Christ himself!”
Chaz flashily indicates a laptop on an end table nearby, where the picture turns from pure black to the grainy pictures of a mediocre internet connection. In the image is a heavily tanned man with curly brown hair and a neatly trimmed beard. His face is displaying a kind natured smile and his eyes show a deep kindness and light hearted nature of compassion and humor in equal measures.
*Thanks for having me here, Chaz! I always love connecting with people, I don’t get many face to face encounters with humans outside of Heaven these days.*
“And it’s a pleasure having you here, Lamb of Hosts. And happy birthday in December to you.”
*That’s nice of you to say Chaz. Even though I wasn’t actually born this day, nothing makes me happier than people showing kindness and generosity to one another in my name. I really wish the Crusades had taken some cues from Christmas and not been so violent. Pretty depressing when people are killing others in my name, ya know.*
“I’ve never minded it,” remarked Chaz thoughtfully.
*Ha! Guess that’s true.*
“Well, Holiest of Holies, was there anything in particular you wanted to say to the people of Earth?”
*Oh, man, where to start?*
“Ahahaha, I know.”
*Well, the biggest thing people bother me and my dad, you know, God the Father, with is why do bad things happen to good people, or why didn’t God stop this bad stuff from happening. Well, for natural disasters, God created the Earth and then gave it to mankind to manage. So, that’s like saying, “Why did my car engine just break down when I haven’t properly maintained it?”*
*Then there’s things like cancer. Yeah, that’s a sucky one. But Mankind was designed to have bodies that start breaking down from the moment they’re born. It keeps the population under control, and gives people a sense of urgency to actually do things they consider important within their lifetimes. It also increases the importance and amount of love they should be showing their children, because they are literally leaving their own futures for their kids to carry forward. And having loved ones die from disease? Well, it hurts because those people are important to you, just as all of you are important to me. So when any of you go through pain, I feel it as well. But I welcome you to the other side of existence after you’ve come to know that pain, so that you can really, truly understand what an awesome thing eternal life in Heaven really is. Lucifer was created in Heaven, that’s why he took it for granted and tried to depose my Father.*
*Oh, sorry, I started going off track. Like I said, so much to say…*
“Well take your time if you need it. I know how much you like Sermons.”
*Hahaha! You got me there. Anyway, finally, it’s to do with murders, wars, terror attacks, and other monstrous acts that people do to one another. People often ask, “God, how could you let this happen” when it’s people who do these horrible things. Well, that goes back to Free Will. You see, my dad wants people to love one another, and love Him. But not out of obligation. Forcing people to love you is a really horrible thing, as I’m sure you can imagine. That’s why it doesn’t mean a thing unless love is given freely. And with freedom to love, comes freedom to choose everything else. From something as pointless as choosing to wear white underpants or blue, to something as important as a Judge making a ruling in a murder trial. It all stems back to Free Will, and the Freedom to Choose. Unfortunately, there are people who choose to use their Free Will to hurt others. My Father and I can’t interfere with that without revoking Free Will itself, which I’m sure people don’t want to lose. So, here I and my Dad are, always hoping people decide to do the right thing, and love their neighbors instead of robbing them at gunpoint.*
Chaz spends some time nodding to himself and says, “You must have a lot of disappointments in your days, then.”
*Oh, an enormous amount. But, people are worth hoping, loving, and believing in. It’s kinda what I do.*
“Well, thanks for joining us tonight, Jesus! And give your Father my regards!”
*Haha! Will do, Chaz! Try not to consume any more realities, alright?*
“Well, I’ll try. Goodnight everybody! And have a Merry Christmas from all of us here at Stop Calling Me A Demon King, and Jesus Christ himself!”