Christmas Comedy Special
"T-Bone, get your ass down here! It's on! Get a couple beers while you're at it!"
Chance Furlong groaned in disbelief. Razor loved seeing himself on TV. He reluctantly took his mind of the weapon he was fine-tuning and humored his friend, stopping briefly to pull two cans of beer out of the fridge before walking toward Razor. He tossed the light brown tabby a beer, who caught it upside-down in midair without looking, then did some quick moving with his hand that ended up opening the can and bringing it to his lips. Razor sipped some beer, eyes still glued to the TV. T-Bone plopped down next to him.
"So, I think I know what you're doing here, but tell me again just in case," said T-Bone.
Razor paused the TV before answering. "Well, I needed cash, but we don't exactly ask for tips when we do hero work. So I decided to become an actor," said Razor simply. "It's a great way for me to be myself, and it pisses off Feral. After all, he thought I was gonna get stuck in the mechanic's purgatory, and then we showed him up by making a fighter jet out of spare parts."
"About that," said T-Bone, eyebrow raised. "We still need those service hours. How did you end up getting a job if you still need to do your good deed for the day, let alone your good work for the next fifty years?"
"Simple enough. I got ahold of a community service sheet, copied it a gazillion times, filled them out with random number in each of the spaces, and gave the stack to a contact at the Enforcer office. I still have connections, T-Bone. Feral seems to have forgotten that his bridge is the only one I've burned," Razor said slyly. "Anyway, my friend put them in the database, so it's official, literally. We don't have to recycle spare parts anymore."
"Wasn't anybody suspicious that we did all that work in such short time?" T-Bone asked
"Have faith, Chance. We didn't put it all in at once. That's like going all in before the cards are dealt. No, the contact is still putting the sheets into the Enforcer log at random times over the course of the next few months. Believe me, Chance, I thought of everything. Now, you asked what this was. Well, it's a Christmas special."
"Great," said T-Bone sarcastically. "What fun, Jake."
"Oh, shut up. Anyway, I play a psychotic Enforcer who's lecturing a family on fire safety."
"OK, I can see why you said it'd piss Feral off earlier in the conversation."
"It gets better. I actually act out ridiculous ways that people can get hurt and I screw myself up while I'm doing it. Here, watch this." Razor pressed a button on the remote and the TV characters started back up. There were three kids, two boys and one girl, and their dad on the screen, and their house was decorated for Christmas. The dad turned to his kids and said in an excited voice, "Alright, kids, it's about time that Santa came. You guys stand back, I'll light the fire." As he bent over to grab a match, Razor came slowly down the fireplace in a Santa Claus outfit and his upper lip curled above his teeth to look as if he had an overbite. His beard only covered half his chin, and his mustache was nonexistent. He turned his head, looking around, and said-
"Ho, ho, ho and howdy, folks!"
"Hey guys, look who's here!" said the dad.
"Yayyy!" said the kids as Razor got out of the fireplace and stood up. The costume department had done a good job of giving him a huge belly, or at least a giant, squishy balloon.
"Are you really Santa Claus?" asked one of the little boys.
Razor put his hand on his "stomach" gave a maniacal laugh. "Are you joking?" he asked the boy. "Santa Claus is just a marketing campaign for big businesses. Wake up, son!" He stopped, looked around, and said, "Nope. I'm Enforcer Bernie Crispin, just here to make sure your holiday season is a ss-ss-safe one," he wheezed. "Now, what kind of snack were you gonna leave for this 'so-called-Saint-Nick?'" He put air quotations around the phrase to show that he clearly didn't believe in Santa.
"Cookies!" said the kids in unison.
"Sounds delicious!" said Razor Claus. "But what if the jar is empty this year…" He walked over to the kitchen as he talked, where a waffle iron and batter were conveniently placed, "…and you decide to make him a waffle instead?" He started acting out everything he said. "The iron's ready, you open it up, itching to pour in the batter as soon as ya can, someone says, 'Look! Rudolph's pitchin' a loaf on the neighbor's lawn!'" Razor pretended to be distracted, "accidentally" placing his hand between the waffle irons. "'Where? Where?'" Razor slammed the top iron down on his hand. To make for a dramatic effect, he leaned over the iron, placing as much weight on it as possible. Smoke started to curl from the middle of the waffle iron.
"Enforcer Crispin, doesn't that hurt?" asked the sweet little girl.
He looks over at her with on odd smile on his face. "Like the Dickens," he answered. Finally, he pulled his hand out. It was three times its normal size, and it had a black imprint of the waffle iron pattern on it. "Quick!" Razor Claus yelled. "Somebody get me the Aunt Jemima syrup!" He gave the same maniacal laugh he gave before.
"Listen, buddy," said the dad. "You were supposed to bring toys for the kids." The kids nodded their heads in agreement.
"Take a chill pill, Dad," Razor Claus replied. "You can't sing 'Jingle Bells' when your head's on fire!" Razor Claus looked at their Christmas tree. "Wow. That's a beautiful tree you got there. Let Santa show ya sunten!" he said loudly and forcefully. He walked his way over to the tree with everybody else following him. Razor Claus stopped and turned around.
"Now, let's just say the Kat who sold you this Christmas tree is an avid bear hunter." Razor Claus paused for a moment. "And he threw in a little something extra." Razor Claus shoved his boot under the tree, doing another play-by-play. "You stick your foot in there, trying to locate the biggest present…" Suddenly, there was a snap, and Razor Claus yelped, throwing himself against the wall and looking up at the ceiling. He gave a few odd noises. The other little boy asked him,"Enforcer Crispin, are you okay?"
Razor Claus gave another maniacal laugh while holding his leg up, which had a large, silver bear trap snapped onto it. He walked over to the family and said, "Ho ho ho. Nothing a little eggnog and fruitcake won't fix."
"What about our toys, Santa?" asked the little girl.
"I'll bet I know what you want, darlin'," said Razor Claus.
"What?" asked the little girl.
"Scuse me a moment," said Razor Claus. He walked out of the front door and came back in ten seconds later with his leg free of the trap and…
"A Barbie Power Wheels car!" he said as he wheeled it into the house. The car itself had a cover draped over it, but the shape of it was a dead giveaway.
"Oh, yaaaay!" cried the girl, running over to the car. But Razor Claus stopped her.
"Hold it, Carly Sue!" he said, holding his hand out, blocking her like a railroad bar blocks cars. "A go kart like this can be a lot of fun," he explained. "But it can also be a fiery death trap."
"Let's just say there's an outbreak of psychosis at the present time," elaborated Razor Claus, making the hand motions of a spreading disease. "And a demented little elf…" Here, he brought his hands close to his face and rubbed his hands together like a mad scientist. "…switches your sweet, innocent battery with a V-6, 350 horsepower, fuel-injected tuh-tuh-turbo engine! Like so!" He ripped the cover off, showing a shiny, silver engine mounted on the hood. Razor Claus continued.
"You're having a ball. You think you're Tom Cruise from 'Days of Thunder.' You hop in the car, put your pedal to the metal, and HOLD ON, BARBIE!" Razor Claus stomped on the gas pedal, and flew straight through the living room drywall at thirty miles an hour. The dad ran over as Razor Claus climbed out of the wreckage.
"You crazy idiot! You put a hole in my living room wall!"
"You call it a hole," said Razor Claus. "I call it a fire exit." He slapped a "Fire Exit" sign next to the hole. "By the way, you might want to get those wheels aligned." He walked back into the center of the room. "OK, kids, gather round while Santa gives you the safety tip that could save your life." Razor Claus bent over the fireplace.
"Now, what do we like to roast on an open fire?" he asked.
"Chestnuts!" said the kids in unison.
"That's right, Peanut gang! Now, let's say you're a World War 2 veteran and you haven't cleaned out your pockets since D-Day." Razor Claus put his hand in his pocket. "You're digging around in there, trying to come up with a chestnut, and you accidentally pull out a live hand grenade." He pulled out a grenade whose pin had been pulled. This act was met with many protests such as "No!" and "Don't do it, Santa!"
"EVERYONE RELAX!" said Razor Claus. "TAKE A CHILL PILL, WOULD YOU? I AM AN ENFORCER FIREMAN!" With that, Razor Claus tossed the grenade in the fire. Everybody else fled the room in a panic, but made it to the door the second the grenade exploded. There was a large explosion onscreen that obscured everything. The next image showed actual firemen putting out a house fire while the family watched. The only one who could talk was Razor Claus.
"Nothin' gets by Enforcer Marshall Santa," he said. "He sees you when you're sleepin', and he knows when you're about to combust!"
"You moron!" yelled the dad. "I don't have any fire insurance!"
"Well, now you know what to ask for next Christmas," replied Razor Claus. He looked over to the right and said, "Look! Some hooligans building a snowman!" He blew his whistle. "STOP RIGHT THERE, KIDS!" He reached into his red bag and pulled out a stick of dynamite. "I think Frosty could use a much bigger nose." He lit the fuse and yelled, "LET SANTA SHOW YA SUNTEN!" Razor Claus walked off to the right and the family ran to the left. Off-screen, there was a large explosion and maniacal laughter from Razor Claus.
The real Razor paused the show. "So, what do you think?" He looked over at T-Bone, who was sleeping. Razor shook him. "Chance? You there, buddy?" Razor sighed. "That's the problem of today. Nobody knows great comedy when they see it."