An Intruder's Special Christmas Gift (Preview)

The door creaked open, and he poked his head out. The noises downstairs had quieted down, but he was sure that who or whatever made them was still there. He approached the staircase and looked down it. He could see the doorway to the living room from there.

There was a light coming from it. It was flickering and had almost a warm-looking feel to it. It couldn't possibly be the lights from his fake Christmas tree.

Not sure what to expect, he slowly moved down the steps as carefully as he could. Down, he approached the doorway and peered in cautiously. The fireplace was lit, warm, orange light flickering against the wall.

It looked all cozy, but there was one big problem. He didn't have a fireplace.

How… He walked into the room. Despite how unnerving, how impossible it all was, he had to go in to look. How did this happen?!

“Ho ho ho!” Halfway into the room, those words floated through the silent, warm air. They were familiar but strange. He had heard them several times before in many a Christmas special or movie, but these sounded nothing like any of those occasions. They sounded off, just plain wrong.

Sylvester froze in place, his eyes darting around. Where did it come from? Who said it?

The answer revealed itself quickly enough. From behind his fake Christmas tree, a figure stepped out. It should've been impossible for them to have been behind the tree. It was too small while the individual was too big.

What a strange person they were too. They looked like Santa Claus, but… how would Sylvester have described it? Perhaps an off-brand version of the beloved holiday icon? He had the Santa attire, but all traces of what should've been red were replaced with green. He was certainly thinner than Old Saint Nick and his face…

His face gave Sylvester the most pause. Sure, the man had a white beard masking some of it. However, the smile beneath the beard and the look in the eyes, as difficult as they were to see, were suspicious, a stinge of mean mischievousness in them.

The man let out some more of those odd chuckles as he eyed Sylvester. The cartoonist, for his part, stood there still frozen and watching him. His nerves were getting to him. How do you handle something like this?

Well, the biggest thing he could do was actually look like he could do something. Finding it in him to move again, his hands gripped his bat tightly and held it up high. If he showed the figure that he wasn't afraid and took a step or two closer, would it scare him off? He didn't know but he was sure he was going to have to play it by ear.

“Oh ho ho ho, don't be so serious, Sylvester!” the man spoke, his smile growing more obvious. “That's no way to treat a magical guest.”

The plan immediately fell out of his mind as the cartoonist froze up again. He gulped. “H-h-how d-do you know my name?”

“I know a lot about you Sylvester Sylgoo!” the figure chuckled, “The name is Santo Klaus!” The strange name added to the knock-off vibe the guy was giving off, amusing Sylvester and almost making him want to joke about it. However, the feeling was only momentary. He suspected making a joke would only make the situation worse.

Santo continued, “I've been keeping an eye on you for quite some time, Sylvester. You know how it goes: I see you when you're sleeping, I know when you are awake.”

He said it in a sing-songy way, only unnerving Sylvester further. Was he really watching him all the time? It was too uncomfortable to think about.

“Most importantly though,” Santo spoke, leaning in, “I know about your interests and passions for those cartoony, curvy animal gals you draw.” His smile turned into a devious smirk. “Like that toots, Sylvia? Oh, what a gal she is!”

Unnerve turned into embarrassment. Sylvester was not ashamed of his interests and was sure his fans knew that as well. However, this weirdo talking about it made him want to just leap at him and strike him over the head with his bat as hard as he could to shut him up.

However, he still felt unable to move and just continued standing there, listening to him. “And because of that,” the intruder monologued, “I wish to give you the greatest gift of all, something that I'm sure you'll appreciate!”

Santo reached behind his back and pulled out, seemingly from nowhere, what appeared to be a red & green cookie jar. He held it up and shook it gently, as if showing off a prized stuffed animal he won from a carnival game.

“I'm gonna give you the gift of my special Christmas Dust! It's a really special gift since you'll be the first one to receive it too. I want to know if it works so I can spread my Christmas cheer to others then!”

Sylvester didn't know what he meant but still knew that it couldn't be anything good. He tried moving back, and he found that he could… to a degree unfortunately. He was only able to move back a step or two.

That's when the old man made his move, one that was far quicker than Sylvester would've expected. In almost a blink of the eye, the man was upon him. The jar was open, one of his black, gloved hands already stuffed in it, grabbing onto whatever was in it.

The man yanked his hand out and swung it towards the cartoonist, opening his mitt. A thick cloud of dust was tossed into Sylvester's face. He only had half a second to notice how oddly multicolored and sparkling it was in the light of the fireplace.

After that half second, Sylvester was coughing and stumbling back. He dropped his bat and rubbed his eyes, trying to get what dust got into them out. From what got into his mouth, it was peculiarly sugary in taste.

Santo smirked, stepping back. “Time to enjoy some Christmas Magic, young man!”

What? Sylvester coughed and coughed, striking his chest after a bit. “What do you COUGH!” He blinked his eyes several times, rubbing them further. “What do you mean by cough that?”

That last word sounded weird to him. In fact, some of his words before that did as well. “What is… oh!” He gasped, his hand reaching up and stroking his throat. “Is that cough my voice?” It was so light, sweet, and… rather sexy in a way.