Post by Deleted on Aug 25, 2010 10:31:12 GMT -5
“We wish you a merry Christmas, we wish you a merry Christmas, and a HAAPPY NEEEEEW YEEEEEEAAAAAR--”
“No!” Keith shouted, covering his ears and crumpling to the floor of the mall. “Any song but that one! I’ll never look at it the same way again.”
“I know!” Damian covered his ears as well. “We sang it way too many times!”
“Aw, c’mon lads!” Paul cheered. “We wish you a merry Christmas, we wish…c’mon mates, sing along!”
“I’ll sing along all right…”Ryan approached, his hands outstretched and ready to constrict around Paul’s throat.
“Oh look!” He cried, stepping just out of Ryan’s reach. “Santa!”
“Santa!?” Damian hopped up and looked around frantically. “Where?!”
“Over there!” Paul pointed.
Damian’s huge grin washed away as he saw the Santa display, the one that must be every mall where children came to get their snapshot with a man in costume for an exaggerated amount. “Oh…”
“Let’s go Damo!” Keith yelled as he lopped arms with the boy.
“I haven’t sat on Santa’s lap since I was seven!” Damian protested.
“Naw, it’ll be fun!” Paul agreed as he helped Keith drag him along.
“We can get our picture taken as a group.” George suggested. “The fans would love it.”
“And we must always please the fans,” Paul continued. “We all know what happens when we don’t.”
Keith eyes went wide. “Very…bad…things…” He shuddered.
“Just get in line,” Ryan rolled his eyes as he laughed along.
They approached just as a little girl sat on the Santa’s lap.
“Oh, ho, ho,” He laughed, his jolly belly wiggling. “And what might your name be?” He asked.
She pushed her blonde ringlets back to look at the Santa’s face, only to turn it away a moment later out of embarrassment as she began fiddling with the skirt of her Christmas dress. “Amy…” she answered.
“Well Amy,” he smiled down at her. “What do you want for Christmas?”
Suddenly her shyness disappeared. “Celtic Thunder!” she cheered.
“Celtic thunder…” he mused, stroking his white beard. “You mean you want me to go all the way over to Ireland just to get you a storm? Ho, ho, ho!” he laughed again at his joke.
“No,” she shook her head, exasperated at Santa’s lack of knowledge. “Celtic Thunder’s a band!”
“Oh, you like a boy band.”
“No! Geeze Santa,” she crossed her arms and rolled her eyes. “Don’t you know anything?”
The men held back their sniggers to keep watching the little girl to see if she would notice who they were.
“Ah, all right then. Who’s your favorite in this non-boy band?”
“I think we may have found another Damianite,” Keith whispered to the boy. “Just wait till she sees you!”
“Paul!” the girl cried.
Keith’s laughing stopped. “Well,” he said. “I didn’t see that one coming.”
“And what’s this Paul of yours like?”
“He’s the bestest!” she threw her arms out to exaggerate her point. “Mommy says,” she knit her brow, her baby blues fixed on the memory. “He’s one of the most handsome mens ever!” She looked back to the man. “Other than Daddy.” Amy nodded enthusiastically.
“I’ll see what I can do,” Santa told her. “Now shall we get your picture taken?”
“Okay,” She said, dismayed by not getting to finish her story. She looked up to the camera only to gasp at the man she saw in line.
“Paul!” She yelled as she scrambled from Santa’s lap. She sprinted across from him and threw her arms around Paul’s legs holding tight as she could.
“Well hi there Amy,” He cooed as he crouched to her level.
She gasped again, and covered her mouth in shock. “You know my name?!”
“‘Course I do Aimes,” He scooped her up. “Now where is your mother?”
She pointed to a frazzled woman pushing her way over to them. “Amy!” She yelled as she reached her daughter. “Any, who’s…oh my...” She stopped when she saw who was holding her. “It’s an honor…” she began.
Paul smiled and turned back to the girl in his arms. “So are you coming to the concert?” he asked.
Her beaming grin faltered. “No…” she looked like she was going to cry any moment.
“Oh, well I think we can fix that,” he looked back up at her mother, who shook her head in return.
“We have to be somewhere,” she apologized.
“Well, I think we can afford one private concert, don’t you?” He turned back to his comrades who nodded enthusiastically, their smiles almost as big as Amy’s.
“You can do that?!” Paul smiled and nodded. “That's the bestest Cwistmas pweasent EVER!” she squeezed her arms around him in another hug.
THE END
“No!” Keith shouted, covering his ears and crumpling to the floor of the mall. “Any song but that one! I’ll never look at it the same way again.”
“I know!” Damian covered his ears as well. “We sang it way too many times!”
“Aw, c’mon lads!” Paul cheered. “We wish you a merry Christmas, we wish…c’mon mates, sing along!”
“I’ll sing along all right…”Ryan approached, his hands outstretched and ready to constrict around Paul’s throat.
“Oh look!” He cried, stepping just out of Ryan’s reach. “Santa!”
“Santa!?” Damian hopped up and looked around frantically. “Where?!”
“Over there!” Paul pointed.
Damian’s huge grin washed away as he saw the Santa display, the one that must be every mall where children came to get their snapshot with a man in costume for an exaggerated amount. “Oh…”
“Let’s go Damo!” Keith yelled as he lopped arms with the boy.
“I haven’t sat on Santa’s lap since I was seven!” Damian protested.
“Naw, it’ll be fun!” Paul agreed as he helped Keith drag him along.
“We can get our picture taken as a group.” George suggested. “The fans would love it.”
“And we must always please the fans,” Paul continued. “We all know what happens when we don’t.”
Keith eyes went wide. “Very…bad…things…” He shuddered.
“Just get in line,” Ryan rolled his eyes as he laughed along.
They approached just as a little girl sat on the Santa’s lap.
“Oh, ho, ho,” He laughed, his jolly belly wiggling. “And what might your name be?” He asked.
She pushed her blonde ringlets back to look at the Santa’s face, only to turn it away a moment later out of embarrassment as she began fiddling with the skirt of her Christmas dress. “Amy…” she answered.
“Well Amy,” he smiled down at her. “What do you want for Christmas?”
Suddenly her shyness disappeared. “Celtic Thunder!” she cheered.
“Celtic thunder…” he mused, stroking his white beard. “You mean you want me to go all the way over to Ireland just to get you a storm? Ho, ho, ho!” he laughed again at his joke.
“No,” she shook her head, exasperated at Santa’s lack of knowledge. “Celtic Thunder’s a band!”
“Oh, you like a boy band.”
“No! Geeze Santa,” she crossed her arms and rolled her eyes. “Don’t you know anything?”
The men held back their sniggers to keep watching the little girl to see if she would notice who they were.
“Ah, all right then. Who’s your favorite in this non-boy band?”
“I think we may have found another Damianite,” Keith whispered to the boy. “Just wait till she sees you!”
“Paul!” the girl cried.
Keith’s laughing stopped. “Well,” he said. “I didn’t see that one coming.”
“And what’s this Paul of yours like?”
“He’s the bestest!” she threw her arms out to exaggerate her point. “Mommy says,” she knit her brow, her baby blues fixed on the memory. “He’s one of the most handsome mens ever!” She looked back to the man. “Other than Daddy.” Amy nodded enthusiastically.
“I’ll see what I can do,” Santa told her. “Now shall we get your picture taken?”
“Okay,” She said, dismayed by not getting to finish her story. She looked up to the camera only to gasp at the man she saw in line.
“Paul!” She yelled as she scrambled from Santa’s lap. She sprinted across from him and threw her arms around Paul’s legs holding tight as she could.
“Well hi there Amy,” He cooed as he crouched to her level.
She gasped again, and covered her mouth in shock. “You know my name?!”
“‘Course I do Aimes,” He scooped her up. “Now where is your mother?”
She pointed to a frazzled woman pushing her way over to them. “Amy!” She yelled as she reached her daughter. “Any, who’s…oh my...” She stopped when she saw who was holding her. “It’s an honor…” she began.
Paul smiled and turned back to the girl in his arms. “So are you coming to the concert?” he asked.
Her beaming grin faltered. “No…” she looked like she was going to cry any moment.
“Oh, well I think we can fix that,” he looked back up at her mother, who shook her head in return.
“We have to be somewhere,” she apologized.
“Well, I think we can afford one private concert, don’t you?” He turned back to his comrades who nodded enthusiastically, their smiles almost as big as Amy’s.
“You can do that?!” Paul smiled and nodded. “That's the bestest Cwistmas pweasent EVER!” she squeezed her arms around him in another hug.
THE END