Hey there and welcome to the sixth and final chapter of ‘Have yourself a Merry little DXmas!’ Thank you to I love ZigZag, cenagirl5421, Adrian Jade, Cheryl and randxgirl for reviewing the last chapter!

I’m sorry that this is like two chapters in one – being as it is Christmas Eve, it kinda needs posting tonight though!

Enjoy!

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The wind was beginning to feel bitter, flakes of snow beginning to flutter like the summer’s butterflies. Shawn Michaels pulled his red gloves tighter over his knuckles, shivering as he turned to face his best buddy.

“Man, this thing sure goes fast! How many minutes ago was it since we left Australia?”

“About ten, me thinks,” Hunter estimated, trying to glance at his watch a little better.

“How many places have we still got left to go?”

“I think it would be easier to count the number of places we haven’t got left to go!” the Game yelled, over the sound of the snorting reindeers, their muscles being pushed to the very limit this festive evening.

“Where are we going now?” the Icon shouted, trying to find the map beneath his feet.

“Someplace in Europe!” he shouted, his thoughts quickly turning to a mumble. “There has to be a quicker way of doing this!”

Taking note of the time, the King of Kings realised that they’d soon be behind schedule; they were pushing the boundaries of time keeping very, very finely, after only two hours of delivering presents.

As Hunter continued to whip the reindeers into shape, Shawn started to search the sacks for parcels entitled ‘someplace in Europe’.

“Hunter?”

“Yeah, Shawn?”

“Where’s ‘someplace in Europe’?”

Twisting a little to see his struggling friend, the Cerebral Assassin cracked the rein once again. “I dunno, try Germany or something!”

Shuffling amongst the brown, itchy bags, Shawn heaved the sacks from side to side, clinging on for dear life as the sleigh jolted unsteadily from side to side.

“Damn you reindeer! C’mon, work with me!” Hunter cried, his face nearly as red as his outfit. “I have a new found respect for Santa already!”

Still manoeuvring the bags from side to side, Shawn nearly leapt from his skin as a hand passed him another box.

“ARRR!”

“What the hell?!” Hunter yelped, halting the drivers in mid air. “What’s the matter with you?”

Shawn was practically shaking. “T-t-here was a h-hand in t—there!”

“No there was not!” Hunter scoffed, shuffling Shawn away from the sacks. “Let me look – Holy S-“

“Now Paul, I know it’s a bit of a surprise but there is no need to curse. I mean, it’s not exactly Christmas like, is it? Not to mention that there are younger viewers watching our every move right now.”

Suddenly vastly aware of their audience, Shawn and Hunter gawped towards the camera, their faces sloped with shyness. “Hi, everyone.” They spoke, waving simultaneously.

“Right, back to business!” the Game called, standing back to their positions, before their self-consciousness. “Holy s-“

With a small cackle, a green gremlin poked his head from underneath the fabric.

“Hornswoggle?” Shawn gasped, helping the youngest McMahon out from the tangle of material. “What are you doing here?”

Muted, the illegitimate child of the WWE Chairman thrusted a note into the hands of the Showstoppa’, beaming proudly to the two degenerates.

“Dear Shawn and Hunter, I hope you are keeping to the schedule. However, if there is a problem with your time management, please feel free to use the parachutes provided. They can be found in the emergency box at the back of the sleigh.”

Shawn scuffled behind the packs until he found the parachutes, in a red and green plastic box labelled ‘S.O.S. Christmas Eve’. Michaels mused at the time just how apt that name was, given him and his buddy’s circumstances.

Tying the parachutes quickly but cautiously across the packages, D Generation X took their time to make sure their aim was as accurate as possible above the chimney tops before dropping the rainbow of wrapped parcels to the correct houses, hoping that nothing was too breakable!

“Hey, this is a lot quicker!” Shawn cheered, hauling another to the ground.

“Yeah and at least we avoid that same old argument about who’s going down the chimney at each of them damn houses!”

Shawn rolled his eyes. “Yes, well, I don’t want to ruin my outfit!”

Triple H cleared his throat. “You know, if you condoned it, you would make an excellent camp guy.”

Ignoring the juvenile jibe, Shawn continued with his duties. As he did so, he began to realise just how essential Santa Claus was to everyone all over the world each Christmas. It hit home that, without the jolly old chap in red, Christmas would mean very little to a lot of folks. As tragic as that was, in light of how commercialised it was all becoming, he still appreciated the man’s job, even more so now.

The Game broke the silence. “Hey, Shawn, just a thought – how the heck are we still suspended in mid air?”

Feeling the whole sleigh begin to crash and burn, Shawn and Hornswoggle huddled together, screaming for dear life.

“Do something Hunterrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr!!!”

Keeping his cool facade for a while longer, Triple H took charge, whipping the reindeer’s butts into shape. “Keep in the air you dozy gits!”

“Hey, it’s not my fault that you two take so long to do anything!” a gruff voice argued, shaking his head as the bells around his neck jingled in the abrupt evenings air.

“Who said that?” Hunter questioned, confused.

“Me, Rudolf, the one you’ve been calling ‘red snot nose’ all night.”

“Wait, you mean you guys can talk?” the Icon piped up, him and Hornswoggle finally finding the courage to stand up after their near fall from grace.

“Well, only me – someone needs to keep Santa in order most Christmas Eves!”

Hunter felt inspired enough to get a progress report. “So, how are we doing so far?”

“Well, apart from the fact that our butts are gonna be sore for months to come, our legs feeling like they are about to fall off and despite you being a little behind schedule, not to mention making us stay still but afloat in midair for well over twenty minutes, not too bad.”

Shawn shrugged, becoming a little lacklustre. “Well, that’s good to hear – I guess.”

“Hey but what the heck are you doing here for, Hornswoggle?”

With the King of Kings forgetting that the littlest McMahon lacks the ability to speak, the leprechaun pulled another letter from his pocket, forcing it into the capable hands of the Showstoppa’.

“Dear Shawn and Hunter, just in case you wonder why Hornswoggle is joining you, don’t worry! He is with you because he works part time as one of my Elves so I thought it would be good for someone who you both know to come with you to help out from time to time.”

“Really, you work for Santa?” Hunter asked with baby like inquisitiveness.

Hornswoggle nodded, beaming with what he felt as great importance.

Managing to soar above the snow clouds long enough to deliver all of the presents across Germany, France and Belgium, Shawn inspected the map once again. “I think the next stop should be England.”

Upon hearing that the UK was to be the next destination, the illegitimate child of Vince McMahon pulled another candy scented note from his pocket.

“Dear Shawn and Hunter, once arriving in Britain you may need to get out and make a number of ‘house calls’. I only do this for houses where children have vowed to stay up until late in order to see me.”

“Great,” Hunter groaned. “I thought we might get back to the US in record time but not now.”

“Oh, don’t worry, Hunter!” Shawn urged, putting a comforting arm around his former tag team partner’s shoulder. “There are only about ten kids and just think, by the time we get there, they could have already gotten to sleep anyway.”

“I hope you’re right man – this is more tiring work than I expected!”

“So you do believe in Santa now, I take it?” Shawn pestered, seeing a smile creep on his best buddy’s face.

“Just a little.”

Finally managing to drop the final present in Scotland, the friends decided to revisit the method of simply sailing the parcels down the chimney’s, instead of leaving the warm comfort of the sleigh to stand on an icy roof top, arguing which one of them would squeeze down a hostile block of bricks.

“Ok, so there is only one more house visit to make,” the Heartbreak Kid announced, reading off the list “A kid called Ebony in Boston.”

Hunter paused. “Urgh, Shawn, Boston’s in America, remember? Massachusetts?!”

“No, it says Boston, Lincolnshire on this list,” he confirmed, pointing to the target on the trusty map.

“Oh, so it does!” Hunter chuckled at his own mistake.

“Geez, and people call me the spacey one!”

Managing to make it to the house in record timing, the two superstars parked on top of a detached house’s roof. The building itself was quite old; it looked as if it used to be a farm but had been converted into a plot of land for a family to grow up on together. The building, Hunter expected, was once a barn but had been converted into a home.

Heaving the sack onto the roof, both men spied the red bricked chimney.

“Your call or mine?” Triple H inquired, both men gazing fretfully downwards.

“Hey, don’t look at me; I’ve been squeezed in tighter spots than Houdini in the past half an hour!”

Hunter nodded. “Well, there is not enough room for either of us to get down there.”

“There has to be someone who could fit down there,” Shawn puzzled, both men facing each other nervously.

Their eyes locked before turning to the youngest McMahon who was already teetering on the edge. His eyes had tears shining from the moon’s bright glare.

“Oh, don’t look like that!” Hunter implored, looking away sharply; he hated being given ‘the puppy dog look’ as Shawn and Stephanie had sometimes offered him.

“Awww, look how sad he looks!” Shawn sniffed, feeling a little sad himself. “We can’t make him go down.”

“Yeah, I mean, this dumb kid wanted Santa anyway and since we are his helpers for the night, I guess it ought to be us that go down there!”

Shawn agreed, his face meandering. “There must be another way down.”

Suddenly, Hornswoggle began to wave his hand in the air, trying to grab the two taller men’s attention.

“Oh, I think he has another letter,” Shawn told, accepting the perfectly creased piece of paper. “Dear Shawn and Hunter, I should have perhaps told you earlier but if you have any problems trying to squeeze down any small chimney holes, please use this.”

Hornswoggle held the wand tightly in his palms.

“No thanks, I don’t want to play the flute right now,” Hunter wisecracked, getting hit on the knee cap with the wooden stick.

“Ouch! What’s this?”

Before the Icon could grab it from the leprechaun to inspect it himself, all three men were magically transported into the house. Stood in complete darkness, they knew that they should start the search for a light switch.

Unexpectedly, a bright light shone in all three pairs of eyes. The Santa’s helpers shrieked, covering their mouths to block the noise; the last thing they needed was disgruntled, half asleep parents harassing them.

Swiftly, a young voice spoke from behind the light. “A ha, I’ve got you ‘D Generation X’!”

“Evening, Ebony!” Shawn greeted cheerily. “Ho, ho, ho-“

“Ok, cut the act, where are the presents?”

“Hey, that’s not a good way to welcome Santa’s assistants!” Hunter said, pulling his hat firmer over his blonde locks.

The small, brunette girl rolled her eyes as she folded her arms over her chest in a tiresome, grown up adaptation of impatience. “Yeah, yeah, well, it was hardly like I didn’t know you were coming, huh?”

Shawn and Hunter exchanged concerned glances to the freckled girl with curly hair. By all accounts, she was seven years old, already cynical and one of the downsides to Santa’s whistle stop world tour every 24th of December.

“How did you know it was going to be us?” the Showstoppa’ queried, a little bit deflated by her sarcasm.

“Oh please, like it was gonna be a big shock! You guys have been on every news channel in the country since last week with stories of how you are going to save Christmas for everyone!”

Triple H slapped his mates arm. “Oh yeah, how could we forget about all of the paparazzi?”

“Yeah, those dudes were relentless! But never mind all of that – shouldn’t you be in bed already? After all, it is nearly half past three in the morning!” Shawn spoke, letting his fatherly instinct take over him.

“Well, I wanted to wait up and see you guys!” she replied, turning sweeter than the chocolate cheesecake she was clutching on a plate before her.

“What are you doing eating sweets this time in a morning?” Hunter cried. “Didn’t you know that that stuff rots your teeth?”

“Oh, what kind of cheesecake is it?” Shawn interrupted, feeling his tummy rubble and his mouth dribble as he knelt before the young girl.

“Triple chocolate with a chocolate biscuit base and chocolate curls and choc-“

“Far too unhealthy for a wrestler, right Shawn?” Hunter tittered, plonking the bulging sack next to the fully decorated tree.

The Heartbreak Kid, however, was too preoccupied with the sugary goodness before him.

“Right Shawn?” Hunter repeated, a little louder.

“Oh yes, yes, shame on you, young lady!” he sternly spoke, wagging his finger.

“Oh well, my bad!” she shrugged, licking the spoon now that the dish was empty. “Anyway, what has Santa got me this year?”

“Nothing if you don’t behave!” Hunter firmly responded, not wanting to be spoken to like a child by a child.

“You know, I have been good all year, it’s just that I get too excited Christmas Eve. Then, I can’t sleep. Then, I come and sit downstairs and wait for Santa. Then, by the time he gets here, I’m tired and cranky and usually give him a hard time. I don’t mean to – it’s just the way it turns out.”

Although one member of D Generation X felt like they were being taken for a bumpy ride, the other almost felt sorry for her. She was a product of the time; impatient, borderline desperate because of the way the shops had trained her to be for months on end before the big day itself.

“And you two have been pretty good all year round too, huh?”

Hunter folded his arms, inadvertently mimicking the small child. “Oh really, how?”

“Well, you haven’t really done anything that bad all year, have you? I mean, the last big prank you pulled was last Christmas day with Vince getting his Christmas dinner ruined.”

Shawn smirked. “Oh yeah, I remember that as if it was yesterday!”

“Yeah, that was pretty mean.”

“Mean but funny all the same!”

“Since then, you two have been like angels compared to that,” Ebony stated, taking a seat in her warmly furnished living room, in the freshest of creams and terracotta’s. “It’s like you two have lost your ability to take the Mickey out of people.”

“Have not!” Hunter bickered.

“Have too!”

“We so have not, little lady!” Shawn disagreed, pulling his hair back over his shoulders.

“Oh yeah? Prove it.”

“Prove what?”

“Prove to me, right now, that you two, D Generation X, the funniest, baddest but bestest tag team in the whole wide world ever can pull the trick of a life time on a completely unsuspecting old man!”

Hunter jeered. “Oh yeah, how do you propose we do that?”

A little over forty minutes later and DX, Hornswoggle and Ebony were perched on the roof of the McMahon’s massive mansion in Stanford, Connecticut.

“Are you sure your parents won’t mind us just taking you out of your home country to do this?” Shawn questioned tensely once again.

“No, of course not!” the youngster answered. “Well, as long as I’m back home by six!”

Hunter appeared a little anxious. “Are you sure this is going to work?”

“Of course it is! What are you guys, chicken? Come on, just get in your places and get moving!”

Sleeping soundly beside his wife, Vince McMahon was dreaming of his twenty-four hours away from the world of wrestling. Although it was his passion for the rest of the year, it was a beautiful gift that he’d be able to take the time out to enjoy the empire he’d built for many decades, relaxing in the comfort of his own million dollar manor. Even if it was only for one day a year.

Suddenly, he awoke. His eyes ridden with sleep, it took him a moment to realise that it was his bedside telephone bleeping.

“Hello?” he spoke, picking up the receiver most gingerly.

“Ho, ho, ho, Merry Christmas!”

“Who the hell is this?”

“Why it’s me, Santa Claus, of course!”

“Santa – wait a second, you’re not real!”

“Oh yes I am!”

“Oh no you’re not!”

“Oh yes I am!”

“Oh no– wait a minute – prove it!”

“Ok, I will,” he chuckled, laughing merrily. “Look out of your bedroom window!”

“Why?”

“Do as I say and you’ll be able to see me!”

Doing what was asked of him, his mind still clouded by sleep, the chairman of the board rose from his bed. Lifting the heavy curtains and netting away from his windowsill, he peered down to the snow covered ground below. He did not like what he saw.

“Hornswoggle! Put your ass away!”

As his embarrassment of a child continued to waggle his buttocks in his dad’s direction, immediately, Santa’s sleigh swooped down to the height of the window.

“Hi Vince!” Hunter waved, mocking his affection.

“What the hell are you two doing here?” he snarled, fearing that his day of peace would soon transcend into a day of reckoning for his only known daughter’s husband.

“Oh, nothing,” Shawn replied “Just thought we’d come to give you a weather warning for the day ahead.”

“A weather warning? What, at this time of night?”

“Yeah, you see, Vince it looks as if it’s going to get a little wet for you.”

“Or should we say, a lot wet?”

Before the boss had a second to reply, he was shocked, covered from head to toe in red and green paint, the perfect combination of DX slime green and Santa Claus red.

Dripping, Vince began to simmer.

“Oh, and we must not forget to give you something to put in your stocking,” Shawn remembered.

“Yeah, a little something from the both of us!” Hunter agreed, dropping a gnarled lump of black coal into his soaked hands.

“Merry Christmas, Vince!” they cackled, Hunter taking charge of the reins once again.

“I HATE YOU!” he yelled, throwing a hissy fit as he kicked his remaining gifts across the room in a tantrum, shocked that he’d been made a fool of so easily and so early on in the day.

With Ebony returned safely to her bed before six am, and the whole world’s presents being successfully delivered with an hour to spare, the dastardly D Generation X duo returned back to their love ones with there being one thing left to say.

“Merry DXmas to all!”

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Hi! I just wanted to say a huge thank you to everyone who read ‘Have yourself a Merry little DXmas!’ especially to those of you who were kind enough to review. You guys have been great! I know some of you would like to see the story about when happened in Australia – who knows what next year may bring:)

I hope you all have a wonderful Christmas with good luck for 2008! Thanks once again!

Eleanor.