Tevun-Krus #11 - Holiday Extravaganza

Smith and Jones

A stream of vulgarities streamed from Kris’ lips as she stumbled to a stop.

Jones was busy righting himself, rubbing away the carpet burn on his knees as he did so. He shot his eyes to Kris, “Really, it wasn’t all that bad, now was it?”

Jones immediately decided that although their stint in the spunky heroine slice of this odd loop they seemed to be stuck in didn’t end in its typical shoot-out or high speed chase while being chased by an angry mob, the silence and passivity imposed on Kris seemed to be the worst thing to happen to her as of late. He quickly drew this conclusion as Kris’ green eyes glowed at him across the fire-lit room. He suddenly felt as though the width of the room wasn’t enough space between him and that murderous glare. He had no qualms about stepping away slowly.

“Ow—Jones!” Smith said as Jones backed right into him, “What’s the meaning of this?”

Smith was careful to turn his mouth without taking his eyes off Kris who was still making her way towards him, arms outstretched. “Don’t look now, but—“

H’ver threw up his arms, effectively putting a stop to the shenanigans of the others in the room. “It’s CHRISTMAS!”

Smith, Jones, and Kris stopped, eyes wide as they took in their new surroundings. Jones felt his mouth grow wider and wider, past the point that should actually be possible for him to open it, as he took it all in.

The room was lit by a monstrous fireplace, its orange flames working to take over the logs on the other side of the screen; Jones giggled, shrugging his shoulders up by his wars as the logs’ crackling tickled his drums. Quickly, he looked around, breathing a sigh of relief as he registered the others’ attentions were elsewhere.

Including H’ver, who—thoroughly excited over the idea of a holiday pit stop—was zooming over to the Christmas tree overflowing out of the corner of the room.

“Look!” He said, bending ninety degrees at his platinum waist. He grabbed a present, it’s gold bow piled on top of a box the size of a breadbox bouncing joyfully.

Kris stepped closer, running her hand through the garland and holly draped across the mantle. “Doesn’t it seem a little… odd?” She asked, eyes moving from one piece of rich décor to the next.

Smith was bent over an automated Santa Claus, finger poking him in his jolly belly. “What do you mean, Kris?”

Kris sighed, moving to the center of the room, and seemed to sink in on herself as she folded her arms. “I don’t know,” he face pinched as she struggled to gather her thoughts. “I mean, where are the machine guns? The angry mob? The aliens?”

Jones shrugged, holding both hands towards the ceiling, “A Christmas miracle?”

Kris rolled her eyes.

“Guys! Look!” H’ver yelled from his place by the tree. The trio walked towards him as he shoved gifts into their hands. “There’s one for each of us!” He said as he ripped into his own. The trio couldn’t help but laugh as the robot’s eyes rounded at the gift inside. “Oil!” he said, clutching the small can to his chest, his gaze skyward. “Oh, Santa! How did you know?”

Smith leaned towards Jones, “Do you want to tell him?” he asked in whispered tones.

Jones shook his head, “Nope.”

Kris held her gift, the smallest of the four, out in both hands. “Somebody had to leave them.” The boys grunted in affirmation. She had a point.

Jones found a seat, pulling his gift—a cylindrical box with a red bow—into his lap. “Might as well enjoy it while it lasts.” He pulled the bow loose, lifting the lid. The rustle of tissue paper filled the air as he pulled out his gift. “A top hat!” he said, removing his own from his head. He brushed the side twice as if to remove an imaginary piece of dust from the immaculate, black matte rim. “How does it look?” He asked with a smile.

Smith gave a little chuckle, “Swell, old friend. Sharp as a pin.”

Jones pulled it from his head, gesturing towards the rectangular box under Smith’s arm. “Go ahead, John. Let’s see what you have.”

“All right, all right,” he said. Smith pulled the ribbon on his gift, working the top off the box, and squealing like a little girl as he pulled what looks like a brown block out of the paper.

Kris’ eyebrows met over her nose, “What is it?” she asked, unsure of the gift Smith has just received.

Smith held it up in the light so all could see. “Why, it’s a Christmas cake!” Smith said, pleasure written on his face. “H’ver, break out some plates, would you?”

“A Christmas cake?” Kris asked, stepping closer and giving the loaf a good poke. “That’s fruitcake!”

Smith pulled the fruitcake back to his chest, “Just because you’re American…”

Kris jerked back, “Hey! I—“

Jones stepped in, new hat atop his head, hands on his hips stepped into the middle of the developing melee. “Hold on, hold on! My lady, may I remind you, it’s Christmas!” He nodded towards her gift. “Let us see what you’ve got.”

Kris sighed, and picked up her gift, big enough to hold in both hands. Kris grabbed the lid, and pulled it off, squinting at the blackness inside. Suddenly, she gasped. “What is it?” Jones asked, trying to tiptoe over her shoulder.

Finally, Kris pulled a small grey cube out of the box. “It’s a powercube for a subspace communicator.”

Smith squinted at the small cube, “That’s what you’ve been looking for? All this time?” He pointed, “But it’s so, so, so… small.”

Kris flipped the powercube back into her hand, giving Smith her best glare as she brought it back in to her chest. “You of all people should know it’s not the size of the cube, Smith,” she said. Smith had the decency to blush. Kris looked away, mind somewhere outside of the holiday-stuffed room. She sighed, “I guess this isn’t over yet, boys.”

All four of the travelers paused for a moment, letting the weight of Kris’ words sink in.

“Well,” Smith said, brushing his hands off in front of him. “That’s tomorrow’s troubles. And today… we have fruitcake!”

Kris rolled her eyes as H’ver finally disengaged himself from the tree, “Oh!” he said, finger in the air, “I have plates! Who wants tea to go with it?”

Jones stepped close to Kris as the Smith and H’ver huddled over their fruitcake and Earl Grey. He pushed out his elbow, knocking Kris in the arm. “Kris, love, he’s right, you know?” Kris pursed her lips together, and Jones allowed the words to roll around in her mind for a moment, and grabbed her above the elbow. “Come on,” he said pulling her towards the other two. “We can get you a piece of cake. Ring in the holidays the proper way.”

“Ugggh,” Kris said. “It’s not cake. It’s fruitcake.”

Jones handed her a plate, smile on his face, “It’s Christmas.”

Kris rolled her eyes, picked up her fork, and took a bite, “Mmmmm,” she said, stretching her lips into a toothless smile. “Delicious.”

Jones laughed, “Happy Christmas, Kris.”

“Merry Christmas, Jones. You too, Smith.” Smith nodded his head above his forkful of fruitcake.

H’ver threw up his arms, “Merry Christmas to all! And to all a good night!”