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 ^{(it's beta!)}

He was new to this part of the city. It wasn't that he avoided it, but he was actually pretty sure he'd never be able to find it on purpose. It passed through his mind that he might not be able to find his way back.

Though of course it wasn't his intention to get lost. It is never anyone's intention to get lost. If nothing else there is always something of an exit strategy, whether plausible or not. In this instance, however, the road just seemed to guide him. It was as if gravity were pulling him somewhere and he could do nothing but unconsciously veer into it, his eyes barely following the path.

It had been dark for some time. He hadn't checked the time, but he heard a chiming echoing through the streets that indicated it was way too late for him to count past ten.

Finally, his legs rested and he felt his senses somewhat heightened. It was strange, but he suddenly remembered what he was there for. Perhaps "realized" is a more appropriate word, as he couldn't recall if he had actually planned this or not.

He looked up to see a lifesized representation of the Manger from the Christmas story. It was lit up with strings of colorful christmas lights and tracklights, most of which was focused on the shining ceramic Baby Jesus in the middle of the action. Carved into his cradle were the words "The Reason for the Season".

Of course, Steve knew of the incredible host of inaccuracies in that statement alone. Had there been anyone around to listen, he would have been more than happy to inform them, but instead he was only accompanied by the docile sounds of "Silent Night" buzzing through the speakers of a small tapedeck hidden behind a kneeling Joseph.

And for a moment, those speakers cut out. The lights flickered and a shiver ran through Steve's body. And a hand was placed on his shoulder. He smiled knowingly, straining valiantly to quell his growing anticipation. "If I knew this was why I came, I would have brought an autograph book."

"I can put my cigarette out on your forehead and we'll call it even."

Steve turned around to face the man, unable to mask his surprise. "You look different than I'd imagined." he breathed.

"And you look like an ugly girl." he smiled back. "But I'm afraid I'm not the one who cursed you with the inability to grow facial hair. Besides, as I understand it, looks aren't a prime concern in your current lifestyle."

"It's more of a hobby, really."

"A profitable one?"

"I could answer that with a wordy no or an ironic yes."

"Or a clever and witty remark. You should know, I'm not a huge fan of you British types. It's always highclass bullshit or nonsensical tripe. I never did get that Python business."

By then Steve had relaxed somewhat but at this point his mind was still running on adrenaline. He made himself take a seat on the steps of the lifesized Nativity scene. "You know, I've read a lot about you."

"Haha. No kiddin'."

"Is it all true?"

"Probably. I don't know what that kid's fascination is all about, but pretty much anything he writes, I've done. Not that he knows, but fuck if I haven't done pretty much anything he can think of. It's almost eerie, really. I mean, imagine what he'd be up to if he had initiative and a purpose. I'd shudder to think, but you know..."

"... I really don't."

The man laughed briefly. He turned about and walked up the steps, past Steve, and stood behind the display of the baby Jesus. He rested on leg on the shoulder of Mary and leaned in to take a closer look into the crib. He flicked the ashes at the end of his cigarette into it before speaking.

"So do you have any idea why you're here?"

"Unrealistically witty banter?"

"Christmas."

There was a moment's pause in which neither said a thing. Steve wasn't sure if this was his opportunity to come up with a retort, but somehow it seemed the medium had been broken already.

"The Christmas Spirit, you could say. It affects everyone differently, of course. Many people feel they already know it. They will stay indoors and watch televised reruns of their favorite shows and classic movies, witnessing the repetitive retelling of stories in which everyone learns a lesson but nothing is truly learned. Then there are those who will try to... spread this Spirit. This Christmas Cheer if you will. There'll be gifts. There'll be singing. There'll be pageants and snowmen.

"But then there're those who don't feel it. I guess you could say they are unaffected. They see this strange, monstrous thing taking form around them and wonder how anyone can see it as magical. In the end, it ultimately leaves them curious. Tonight you were simply wandering. While it may not have been prominent in your mind, look where you found yourself. You sit before a completely inaccurate and atrociously commercialized depiction of what many people believe to be the birth of the world's savior. Like some sort of magical superhero born in an ancient equivalent of a shitter."

"This is doing nothing to sway me..." Steven began.

"I mean seriously, I'm surprised they didn't all die of some sort of fecal infection, inhaling all this shit. God, the floor must have been carpeted with it."

Steve smiled faintly. He didn't turn his head to look as he heard the man sit next to him.

"But you know, those people, the ones who simply don't feel the passion, the Spirit of Christmas. They're just looking in the wrong place. It's not about Christmas. It was at one time, but honestly that's not even real anymore. What is real, however, is tradition. Whether it's presents under a tree, or tops and fancy candles, or bored and jealous kids with strictly athiest parents, this is a time of fellowship. Families come together, friends gather and celebrate, people sing songs and give gifts to one another for no other reason than it being this time of year. And if they can't afford that new videogame system for Little Timmy Fuckface then Goddamnit they'll just have to put it on the credit card.

"My point is, there's no sense in putting so much thought into it. It's fuckin' Christmas. Take advantage of it while it's here."

Steve mulled these thoughts about in his mind for a while. The buzzing music behind him began to skip and he only just began to realize that one of his boots was sitting in a patch of yellow snow.

"I... think I remembered another reason for coming out here."

"Oh yeah?"

"There's a gathering I'm going to. A... party of sorts."

"Oh, you and your friends. Those guys are a buncha weirdos, ya know? Probably the most use the internet has found is gathering up every freak in the world and putting them all together as a group where they can amass power. It's one of my favorite things about it really. You lot make for fun times."

"Yeah, well, I should probably be heading out."

"Oh yeah, sure. You have fun. Should be a good one. I hear they got someone special catering the festivities this year."