

A Very Bartleby Christmas Special
by Alex Reynard


    *   *   *   *   *


Twas the day before Christmas, and all through the abyss,
Most souls still weren't done with their shopping lists
The wails of the damned seemed a little more jolly
And the stalactites were hung with fresh boughs of holly

Yet here among shops filled with glistening treasures,
We find a young bat who shows no signs of pleasure...

~***~

Snow, contrary to popular belief, is quite common in Hell.

Christmas Eve in the Naughty level found Bartleby Fletch wrapped up in a puffy coat, knitted scarf, thick mittens and the largest pair of earmuffs a sane mind can imagine. Bats are not built for cold temperatures, and Bartleby could not have been said to be comfortable trudging along through the falling snowflakes and frosty evening air. But, like most things in the Naughty Level, it wasn't really _un_comfortable either. The sensation of cold was merely there, making him wish he'd see something in one of the store windows that would give him an excuse to go inside.

School had ended for holiday vacation just the day before. Mrs. Schaddenfreude had given a fascinating lecture on some of the original demons who had helped shape Hell's creation along with Lucifer. Bartleby paid close attention, and not just because his seat, as well as everyone else's, were wired to give 40,000 volt shocks to anyone Mrs. S. spotted looking bored.

Bartleby was sad to see school end, if even for two weeks. Not only was Mrs. Schaddenfreude his best teacher ever, but his classmates had come to be the closest thing to a stable family he had in the abyss. Despite being happily autonomous at home in his little red cave, Bartleby liked to be with his friends as much as possible the rest of the time. He supposed it was partly due to the fact that, the closer Christmas drew near, the more he was reminded of the fact that he would not be able to spend it with his real family this year.

Worst of all, Bartleby was in the midst of a yuletide dilemma. He wanted to bombard all his friends in the Naughty level with spectacular, wonderful gifts, to show them all how much he loved them, appreciated them, and wanted to thank them for helping him through the confusion and sadness he'd felt early on after his death. He wanted to, but he knew he couldn't.

You see, Bartleby was under a gift curse.

Despite normally knowing on instinct just what to do to make the people around him happy, Bartleby had always carried the burden of giving truly disastrous gifts at Christmastime. His intentions were as good as gold, yet somehow every time either he wouldn't be able to think of a single thing, or if he did get a marvelous idea, it would backfire horribly. Either it would turn out they already had one,  or it would break within days or hours of being received, or he'd know as soon as they pulled off the paper that they hated it. He had indeed gotten in a few successes here and there, but he considered them lucky breaks. The pattern of failure for his other generous endeavors was clear: he sucked ass at getting gifts.

Plus, this was his first Christmas in Hell. What if there were traditions he was completely unaware of? What if they didn't have gift-giving here? Or Christmas trees? Or eggnog! Bartleby didn't think he could live without eggnog.

Thankfully though, most of these worries had been soothed early on. He was looking at ample proof right here and now.

He had been strolling along downtown for an hour and a half now, peeking into almost every store he came across. Everywhere were signs of holiday cheer. Brightly colored lights and striking white ones were draped across every building. Wreaths dangled from street lights. Tinsel, holly and ivy decorated store awnings. Mistletoe abounded. It was a Christmas fantasy right out of a storybook.

And it wasn't just Christmas being celebrated. Far from it! Being the most popular, Christmas did tend to have the greatest representation. But it didn't take sharp eyes to look around and spot symbols of Channukah, Kwanzaa, the winter Solstice, Idu'z Zuha, and even the festival of Eid ul-Fitr happened to fall close to the other holidays this year. In addition, Bartleby had learned of a uniquely demonic yuletide holiday: Gaarthump, in which old friends gathered together to sing lusty songs, beat each other unconscious with furniture, set houses on fire and consume unthinkable quantities of alcohol. (Bartleby thought he might pass on celebrating that one.)

Instead of quibbling over which holiday was best, the prevailing sentiment was, 'They're ALL fun!' Hell's residents often celebrated a mishmash of traditions, picking and choosing and sculpting their own holidays to their liking. Furs on the street wished each other a "Happy whatever!" And even those who celebrated nothing this time of the year still enjoyed the buoyant goodwill of the season.

For Bartleby, this Christmas was turning out to be completely different than the ones he'd survived back on Earth. Everything most people tended to loathe about the holiday had been banished. Stores were barred from putting up a single decoration or plastic snowman until the day after Thanksgiving, under threat of atomic bombs dropped down their chimneys. Hell's giving force created an audio filter effect so you only ever encountered the holiday tunes you really liked, not the overplayed, ear-blightingly cheesy ones that made most people want to seek out something to strangle. (Atheists were offered special earplugs that blocked out Christmas music entirely!) The playing of Jingle Bells was punishable by death. And since anyone could produce any material good they desired by flicking a finger in the air and creating a portal, mall parking lots were no longer pits of sweltering, unending torment. Xander had even mentioned to Bartleby that he was planning to go with his family to a big annual get-together where everyone took part in gleefully destroying hideous, kitschy Christmas decorations. Often with shotguns. Xander said he was bringing a flamethrower and a cinder block this year, and would be keeping an eye out for anything animatronic, especially if it could sing.

Bartleby glanced up from these thoughts and realized he'd walked all the way to the middle of downtown. With jolly lights enfolding the whole area in a comforting glow, Bartleby had to stop a minute and just appreciate the sight.

Four roads converged in a roundabout, in the center of which was a Christmas tree so tall it seemed to scratch the surface of the sky. It blazed bright with gold, red and silver. Everywhere Bartleby looked in its branches, there were furs with statue fetishes who had been immobilized and turned into happy, petrified ornaments. Beneath the tree, a group of carolers harmonized, their breaths hanging in the air like their music made manifest. Bartleby could also see a marble fountain that shot steaming amber liquid in a plume several feet in the air: hot apple cider for anyone who wished to take a conveniently provided cup and warm their tummies. Smells of cinnamon and pine wafted on the chilly evening wind.

Bartleby smiled. 'This is what Christmas is supposed to feel like,' he thought.

And then, at the moment when he finally stopped worrying about it, he got the idea for the most perfect present ever.

Happiness surged within the little bat! His brain started whirring, already beginning to plan and scheme to bring his idea to light.

Grinning, he turned around and dashed off in the direction of home.

Then he stopped, laughed, and bonked his forehead. "Duh!"

Mittens were no hinderance in creating a portal. Bartleby hopped through and was home in an instant.

~***~

"I'm home, Terry!"

The little brick-red plush came awake immediately. He sprang up and ran across the bed to greet his boy, foxtail wagging furiously.

Bartleby giggled when Terry jumped up on him. "Wait a minute while I get all this heavy stuff off me, willya?" He closed his eyes and gave a shake; his coat, scarf, earmuffs and mittens all melted away like mist. "NOW you can jump up on me!"

Terry did so with vigor, lapping at his boy's face with his little felt tongue. "How'd your shopping go? Did you find lots of good stuff?" the eager pup pestered.

"I didn't find a thing!" Bartleby said with a wide smile.

"Why so happy then?"

"'Cuz I got a better idea than doing gifts this year. I suck at them anyway, so I'm not gonna try again and be disappointed again. Instead, I'm going to throw a party for all my friends who are like me and don't have family to spend Christmas with."

"That's a great idea!!" Terry burst out, and started licking Bartleby some more.

The little bat laughed and tackled his favorite plush onto the bed, giving him plenty of tickles. Terry barked and yipped in bliss.

After roughhousing for a bit, Bartleby asked Terry a question. "So, I know I've never thrown a party before, but I do know the first thing you need is lots of food. Who would know about where to get lots of food?"

Terry thought a bit, then he grinned.

~***~

"Roy?"

"Bartleby!! Hello, sweetie!" the big plump squirrel gushed. Since portals could be used for phone calls as well as transportation and storage, Bartleby was now looking at a shimmering image of the friendly chef floating before him in the middle of his room.

"Hi! I was wondering if you could do me a favor."

"Only if you'll promise to come down here more often and let me cook you! You are scrumptiousness personified!"

Bartleby giggled. The last time he'd been to the giant cafeteria where Roy worked, he'd ended up as fondue! "I promise! Now, I'm thinking of throwing a party tomorrow and I need, like, a ton of food."

Roy put his chin in his paw in thought. "Hmmm. Traditional christmasy edibles, I presume?"

Bartleby nodded.

"Lucky for you, we also do catering. Sounds like you need the Turbo-Yule Furstuffer Deluxe Special. And lucky for you, it's on sale."

"How much?"

"Just five gallons of cum," Roy replied.

Bartleby arched an eyebrow. "That seems kinda cheap. How much food are we talking?"

Roy glanced around behind the bat boy. "More than you could possibly hope to fit in this room! Bartleby, you are simply going to have to expand your living space."

"Okay. I kinda figured on that." Bartleby shut his eyes tight and pictured what he wanted. Behind him, he heard hinges creak. He turned to look and saw that, where there had been bare rock wall before, a door had opened.

Roy's portal floating along behind him, Bartleby went to inspect his cave's new addition. "Wow!! This is even better than I imagined it!" The room was more spacious than a high school gymnasium and already decorated with lots of festive red and green trimmings. A phalanx of buffet tables lined one wall. A bare tree awaited ornaments in the corner. And a cavernous fireplace was already roasty toasty.

"That's more like it!" Roy said appreciatively. "I hope you don't mind; I influenced your wish a bit. I figured you were a bit of a party novice and might need some assistance."

"I don't mind at all! Thanks!" Bartleby said. "So, will all the food fit now?"

Roy nodded. "Indubitably. By the way, you might want to step to the right..."

Bartleby was about to ask 'Why?' when a roaring tsunami of food came pouring out of the portal with the force of fifteen firehoses. When the deluge stopped, Bartleby was stunned to see every table in the place filled up with more delectable holiday goodies than his eyes could take in all at once. "Holy shit!!"

Roy shrugged. "We deliver fast."

Bartleby turned back to the portal. "So, do I pay you now?"

The big squirrel nodded. "Yup. Better sit down for this."

Bartleby turned and saw that Terry was already helpfully nudging a chair towards him. He petted the fox and took a seat. He braced himself, looked at Roy and said, "I'm ready."

Roy had already positioned the ominous-looking grey nozzle on his end of the portal. "It's automatically set to five gallons and I've adjusted the dial to 'cub' so it doesn't suck all your internal giblets out the instant it turns on. Ewww! Anyway, here we go!" He flipped a switch and the nozzle surged out of the portal like a striking cobra, its sights set directly on Bartleby's unsheathed penis.

Bartleby screamed as a wall of pleasure hit him like a wrecking ball to the chest. He had found out recently that one of the methods of paying for goods and services in Hell was by a donation of cum. And the bigger the purchase, the greater the volume required from the buyer. Bartleby had been through this process before, so he knew that this machine would force him into a mind-destroyingly intense orgasm and not let him go until he'd produced the necessary amount of cub-cream.

The first spurt shot from Bartleby's already red member. His balls were milked with the irresistible suction force of an F-5 tornado. He moaned, writhed and cursed, the pleasure obliterating his ability to think. His balls were filling as fast as Hell's magic allowed, and the machine drained them almost as quickly.

Knowing this would take a while, Roy picked up a magazine. Terry trotted back to Bartleby's bedroom to chew on the boy's socks.

~***~

Hell has an extremely efficient mail system. Merely place a message into a portal and it will be delivered instantaneously to the recipient's residence. You can even arrange for it to pop out right in front of their faces if it's urgent enough.

Upon the next morning, Christmas day, Bartleby's friends awoke to find the following invitation waiting for them beside their beds:

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
[B]YOU'RE INVITED!
To Bartleby's Big Christmas Party!

From 10 a.m. to midnight, I'll be hosting a Christmas party at my house for anyone who wants to drop by and have fun. There'll be lots of food, games and other cool stuff. Feel free to invite along as many friends or family members as you like, and be sure to bring one tree ornament!

MERRY CHRISTMAS![/B]
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

~***~

At 9:45, Bartleby received the first knock on his door. He opened it to find a blushing calico kitten, toting a bulging black trashbag over her shoulder.

"I hope you don't mind I'm early," Gillian said apologetically.

"Of course not!" Bartleby reassured as he ushered her in. "I'm really glad you came, Gillian. We haven't seen each other in a while."

"That's right. It's been almost a week now." She sat down her bag and flung her arms around him. She hugged him tight and began to purr. "Thanks for inviting me."

Bartleby breathed in the familiar exotic odors of Gillian's magic dumpster on her fur. "You're welcome. Y'see, I'm terrible at giving gifts, so I thought I'd throw everyone a big party instead."

She touched noses with him. "That was very thoughtful of you." She looked around the room. "Kinda small. How many people did you invite?"

"Nonono, the party's in here!" He pointed out the new door and she followed along, hefting her bag.

Gillian gasped when she saw the party room. Bartleby had been up almost all night making everything perfect. The food (which had been frozen in time since last night to keep it fresh) was laid out among sparkling crystal centerpieces and flickering candles. Dozens of wreaths hung from the ceiling. Against one wall, Bartleby had set up his video game system, complete with multiple controllers and a small herd of beanbag chairs. Nearby was a TV and plenty of fun Christmas movies; he'd even erected a sound-blocking sphere around this area so furs could watch films without the noise from the rest of the party drowning out the soundtrack.

"Come on over here," Bartleby said, and led her to the tree. It was barren except for a star on top and a few strings of lights.

"Oh, so that's why you asked us to bring ornaments!"

Bartleby smiled, proud of his idea. "Yup! It'll be like signing in. Everyone can add their own, and the more people who come, the nicer the tree will look."

"Cool!" Gillian opened her garbage bag and rustled around inside. "Here's mine." She held out a gleaming blown-glass garbage truck, green as a summer meadow.

Bartleby chuckled. "It fits you perfectly! Hang it wherever you like. By the way, what else is in the bag?"

Gillian selected a branch that felt right to her and bent over to add her little truck. The bright green stood out nicely against the deeper hue of the needles. "Oh, I asked my magic dumpster if it had any gift ideas for the party, and this is what it upchucked for me!" She held open the bag to show all sorts of gifts, wrapped, ribbonned and everything. She reached in and brought out a little gold-colored package. "For you, Bartleby."

"Thanks!" He was about to rip into the paper reflexively, then stopped himself. "Wait. First I wanna show you something."

Curious, Gillian let Bartleby take her paw and he led her over to a small table nearby the massive mountain of food. Terry had volunteered his services as waiter and was sitting on an ice sculpture in a tiny tuxedo. He waved to Gillian and she waved back. "Hi, Terry!" she said. (Bartleby had been delighted to discover that Terry would stay 'real' when other people were around. He'd worried for weeks it'd be just like imaginary friends in the movies.)

Bartleby opened a long, wide, slender wooden box. "Here we go. I kinda figured you'd be one of the first guests, so you're right on top."

He handed Gillian a sheet of paper, and her paw went to her mouth when she saw what was on it.

Bartleby had always liked to draw. Last night, he had taken up his pencil and crafted portraits of all his closest friends. They weren't masterpieces, only sketches. But Bartleby had put his heart into each one. He wanted them to be portraits, not of how he physically saw his friends, but how he felt about them.

Gillian felt tears in her eyes. She had never imagined herself so beautiful as her friend had rendered her. "Bartleby..."

She couldn't find words, and didn't need them anyway. She crushed him in a deeply emotional hug and peppered his cheek with kisses.

Bartleby could not have been happier. "So, it looks okay?"

She giggled. "You had better take back what you said about giving terrible gifts."

~***~

It did not take long at all for the party to get into full swing. For the first few hours it had just been Bartleby, Gillian and a few other kids from school. Then, as Christmas morning passed and the rest of the invitees finished opening their presents, the trickle of people coming in became a flood. And for every one whom Bartleby had drawn a portrait, he received a hug as heartfelt as Gillian's.

The tree was now so bedecked one could hardly see green anymore. Many people brought ornaments that reflected themselves so Bartleby would have something to know they were there. But others brought ornaments that reflected Bartleby himself. There ended up being a veritable flock of bats in different shapes and sizes perched all over the tree's branches.

Despite everyone digging in with gusto, the gargantuan smorgasbord never seemed to get any less full. Everything was holiday-themed, so the vast percentage of selections were desserts. In addition to ham, turkey and one golden-brown little bat ("Don't ask how, but I managed to roast myself," Bartleby was overheard telling one guest) were fruitcakes, cookies, pies, candies, chocolates, stollen, gingerbread houses, rum balls, fudge, peppermints, candy canes, plum and figgy puddings, as well as unfamiliar but still delicious offerings from other lands and other cultures.

Being a plush, Terry was inexhaustible and perfectly suited to the task of whisking up and down the length of the table, making sure everyone had plates and plasticware; always there to ask if anyone needed a refill or a straw. He was more than compensated for his efforts by tons and tons of hugs and skritches from all the party guests. And all the food his little plush belly could hold! He ended up almost as round as Santa Claus by the end of the night.

Furs were dancing. Furs were apple-bobbing. Furs were furiously playing video games and furs were gathered around the television reliving holiday classics. Furs were giving gifts, receiving gifts, and exchanging even more hugs. Needless to say, this being the Naughty level, furs were also yiffing like crazy. Mint-scented spooge puddled the floor in uncountable places.

Xander, Lexi and several other furs had called to say they were doing things with their families and would come by whenever they could. But everyone else Bartleby had invited made an appearance. Criss Nero and his boyfriend Kaleb had organized a conga line of festive buttyiff. Roy arrived in his chef's hat and was happily adding anyone who volunteered to the spread on the buffet table, assisted by the enigmatic Jean Pierre. Tasasha the spid'taur had arrived with several jungle bat friends clinging to her abdomen. She soon busied herself spinning cocoons around anyone who wanted to be turned into living Christmas presents. Jeff, Bartleby's chipmunk classmate, was easily annihilating all comers in a racing video game he'd brought to the party. Crystal, the shimmering blue vixen made of gel toothpaste whom Bartleby had met in the Abyssal Nursery, was making everyone's noses happy with her fresh wintergreen scent. Just as she'd promised Gillian, Mrs. MacKensie arrived with even more trashbags full of holiday cheer (and Bartleby said that she and the calico were free to take home all the garbage they wanted after the party was over). Needless to say, when Mrs. Schaddenfreude arrived she had immediately taken up the mantle of chaperone, and was now gleefully punishing the living daylights out of everyone she came across. Also needless to say, there were no complaints.

Bartleby tried to be everywhere at once. For him, it was a truly overwhelming day. He'd had no idea this many people would show up. His party was a bigger success than he could have ever hoped for. Here was proof that here in Hell, 'alone' was something he would never be.

~***~

People came and went, but many came back later when, as promised, Bartleby turned down the lights and an enormous screen, wide as an entire wall, descended from the ceiling.

Crystal knew what Bartleby was planning, so she was only too happy to help. She chose a spot, struck a graceful pose, and became a candle. Her blue gel body became solid blue wax. A flame like a halo appeared above her head, and she burned merrily, providing the room with a cozy glow.

The guests all cuddled together, seated on the floor, wrapped in blankets and sipping hot chocolate.

When Bartleby clicked a button, every face became a smile as the screen came to life and Sam the Snowman began to describe that big snowstorm from a few years back.

Is there a soul in all the world who doesn't grin and get misty eyed at the mere *mention* of Rudolph The Red-Nosed Reindeer?

Bartleby and the others all watched and laughed and recited dialogue along with the characters on the screen. Nearly everyone shouted out, "Hermey doesn't like to make toys!?"

After that they watched A Charlie Brown Christmas, Frosty The Snowman and How The Grinch Stole Christmas. The original Chuck Jones version, of course!

When the cartoons were over and everyone felt full of warm, satisfying nostalgia, people began to notice a soft white glow coming from the back of the room. Bartleby turned and shouted in happiness, "Llywyalla!" He hadn't been at all certain that she'd be able to attend. After all, it seemed only natural that angels would be busy on Christmas.

The beautiful cheetah enfolded Bartleby in a hug with both her arms and her wings. She kissed his head and told him she wouldn't have missed his party for anything. She was still indebted to him for saving her from an eternity trapped in that tiny cell, and she didn't want him to ever forget that.

Llywyalla's curse had still not been lifted, but she had discovered a very wide loophole. Despite being unable to ever speak the truth, she found that didn't prevent her from singing. Songs are fiction, and fiction is, by definition, not truth. So Llywyalla took a place in front of all the assembled guests, and began to perform for them.

To say she had the voice of an angel would be a massive understatement. Her song was so clear, so pure, so impossibly beautiful, that not a single furson present avoided getting goosebumps. Some people even literally melted from the sheer perfection of her voice. 

When she finished, she gave the crowd a modest smile ...then realized to her dismay that they were all so in awe, they'd been frozen stiff.

Thinking quickly, she ran to the buffet, guzzled a quart of ginger ale, and burped so loud it extinguished every candle in the room (including Crystal). That snapped them out of it nicely.

~***~

After everyone had stood up, stretched, gone to the bathroom and then returned to the buffet tables for more numnums, the big screen came down again and Bartleby was introduced to a uniquely Hellish holiday tradition: Jesus' Birthday Spectacular.

It was a star-studded variety show, similar in format to the specials on New Year's Eve, where the Prince Of Peace himself MC'd and virtually everyone tuned in. With thousands of years worth of dead celebrities, the acts were always, ALWAYS, awesome.

Jesus stepped out in front of the live audience to thunderous applause. He got off a few perfect one-liners, talked a bit about the holiday, then turned to the stage behind him and announced, "Ladies and gentlemen... Jimi Hendrix and Frank Zappa!!" The crowd went apeshit.

Bartleby was a bit curious as to why Jesus would want to do a live TV show on his birthday; it just seemed like a lot of work. He asked Mrs. Schaddenfreude and she helpfully explained. Early Christians had simply made up the December 25th date as a way to muscle in on early pagans' solstice celebrations. Jesus' actual birthday was three years and nine months after most Earth-dwellers believed. This worked out quite well for him, since it meant he could spend his actual birthday quietly at home with his wife and kids, then throw a big hullabaloo three months later on Christmas. Needless to say, most people still forgot and sent him gifts on the 25th.

Just as Bill Hicks was finishing up a short standup, a booming knock on the door startled everyone. A bit confused, Bartleby went to answer it and was nearly bowled over when a Santa-suited Satan burst into the room with a sack full of presents and a hearty "Ho ho ho!!!"

Everyone cheered and gathered around. Bartleby was first in line to give Big Red a big hug. He then got a second joyful surprise as Razielphustar appeared next, carrying another bag of presents and dressed in the gayest elf outfit imaginable. Pointy green shoes, Peter Pan hat, green pasties with tassels, and a speedo with a sprig of mistletoe glued to his bulge. "Bartleby!!" he shouted, and the boy literally flew into his arms.

While the guest's attentions were divided between being showered by gifts from Jolly Old Scratch and watching Kurt Cobain and Janis Joplin play a duet on TV, Razielphustar whisked Bartleby to the bedroom for a secret chat.

"It's good to see you, dear boy! It's been far too long!" he said.

Bartleby beamed and nuzzled the gentle Hellguardian's chestfur. "Yeah! I wish you weren't so busy. I love getting to spend time with you."

"Likewise, little one." Razielphustar held him tight and kissed the boy behind each ear. "Although I am rather perplexed as to why neither I nor Satan were invited to your party."

Bartleby looked stunned. "I figured you'd have way, *way* more important stuff to do today than show up here!"

The demon smiled lopsidedly. "What could possibly be more important?"

Bartleby hugged him again.

"There is, however, a *specific* reason we chose to attend," Razielphustar added. "Not that handing out presents, spreading peace and goodwill, and depleting your eggnog supplies aren't all good enough reasons in and of themselves."

"So, why?" Bartleby giggled. "Did you wanna yiff?"

"That too, o frisky one. But Llywyalla informed us of your little shindig, and I'm sure you have not forgotten that Lucifer still owes you a boon for rescuing her."

"Mm-hmm," Bartleby nodded.

Razielphustar leaned in close, their noses touching, and whispered, "It will only be for a moment, but, how would you like to wish your family a merry Christmas?"

Bartleby stopped breathing. He could not speak for a few seconds.

And then he simply burst into tears of infinite elation and gave Razielphustar a hug so fierce his hat flew off.

Cradling the overjoyed boy in his arm, Razielphustar went back to the party to tap Satan on the shoulder (Well, actually the bicep. Few in Hell are tall enough to actually tap Satan on the shoulder). "He's as pleased as we both predicted."

Beelzebub grinned, showing off his enormous teeth. "Wonderful! I hope he makes the most of it. Remember; thirty seconds, _tops_!"

Razielphustar nodded and saluted.

Satan reached out to pat Bartleby on the head. "I'll try to keep everyone here entertained while you're gone, kid." He winked and turned back to the crowd. "Alright everybody, brace yourselves! Here come's Santa's sleigh!"

As Razielphustar chuckled and carried Bartleby off, the little bat looked over his shoulder just in time to see a massive chunk of jet-black spiked meat flop out of Santa's pants and slap on the floor so hard it knocked several people off their feet.

Just before he and Razielphustar passed through the portal he heard Satan shout, "NOW, WHO WANTS A RIDE ON MY MOTHERFUCKIN' YULE LOG?!?"

~***~

Bartleby found himself surrounded by a pulsing, inky violet darkness, as he and Razielphustar stood on a circle of green light that was taking them up, up, up at a fantastic speed.

"What we're about to do, kiddo, is extremely dangerous," the demon said conspiratorially.

Bartleby's ears drooped. "Well, geez. You don't have to go to all this trouble on my account."

Razielphustar stiffened up. "Of course we do! Not only do you deserve it for being pure of heart and cute of... everything else," Bartleby snickered, "but Satan prides himself on always keeping his promises. You showed great heroism in rescuing Llywyalla, and this is an honor we reserve only for the most deserving."

"So what's gonna happen?"

"We are going to a place that is somewhat similar to a broadcasting station. It is notoriously tricky to send intelligible signals from Hell to Earth. Hence our great annoyance at certain people's insistence that the Devil is always whispering in their ear, tempting them to sin."

"I kinda doubted that even when I was alive," Bartleby said.

"Wise. What we shall do is rip open a hole between our worlds. Sort of like the portals you use, but much more sophisticated. You will have only thirty seconds, which is unfortunately the maximum time we can give you. If God were to spot us doing this, we would be, to put it crudely, 'fucked up the caboose'."

Bartleby was vexed. "But can't he see that we're about to try it right now?"

Razielphustar grinned like a shark. "We have our ways of clouding our actions. God only *thinks* he's infallible, Bartleby. He isn't. He is a being with faults like you and I. Albeit a being of such brain-bendingly immense power that he can create entire universes on a whim. But a small, sneaky mind can almost always find a way to scuttle along undetected underneath the shadow of an ego that massive. Just like mice scurrying about within the walls..." he said, making mouselike gestures with his hand to illustrate.

Bartleby considered this. And the circle of light lifted them higher and higher...

~***~

A few things first need to be explained about how time works in the Abyss, as opposed to the mortal realm.

From the time of his death to this current moment, Bartleby believes he has spent approximately five months in the Naughty level.

For his family, it has been six long years.

It is an open secret in Hell that time moves considerably faster there. One year in the pit equals roughly ten above. The reason for this lies in Hell's giving force. It treats time not as a linear progression, but as a ball of taffy. So long as the mass does not change, the taffy itself can be stretched and squashed as much as one pleases. In the Naughty level, good days feel like forever and mediocre days are swift. In the lower levels, a single minute of torture can be dragged out for eons. Time is borrowed from here, added to there, all so that everyone gets exactly as much as they deserve.

A perfect example is Bartleby's party preparations. How could he have set everything up, drawn portraits of all of his friends, and still gotten in eight hours of sleep, all before Christmas morning? Simple. He couldn't have. But Hell's giving force took some extra time from somewhere else and turned thirteen hours into almost thirty-six, and everything worked out smooth as mousse.

But because Bartleby believes this will be his parent's first Christmas without him, that is the moment he will be transported to. Complicated, certainly. But well worth it to make a young bat happy.

~***~

For Bartleby's family, it had only been a month ago when the trial ended and Marcus Eugene Fletch was sentenced to life imprisonment for murdering his youngest son.

That fact was still impossible to fully believe. For Chuck, Tricia, Mandy and Mom, all of them expected Dad to come home from work any day now, cussing and slamming the door as usual. Similarly, they all still expected to find Bartleby at the table when they came downstairs for breakfast.

But those moments never happened. Because five months before, their family had been reduced by two in an instant. Bartleby had died, and their father had ceased to be their father. Now he was only a killer.

This would be their first Christmas as a broken family. It had not been going well so far. Sure, they'd been happy while they exchanged presents. Mom had surprised all three of her children with a new computer she couldn't quite afford. But their shrieks of disbelieving joy were worth any amount of overtime. Dinner was traditional: ham, yams, green bean casserole, cranberry sauce and pie. Everyone agreed it was delicious. But none of them could wish away the two empty chairs at the table. The chairs that Mom had been saying for months now that one of these days she was going to just take them to the basement and be done with. But she could never find the courage.

Now their bellies were full and their eyes were blank as they huddled on the couch, watching Christmas specials together. No one spoke. They all shared a common thought, that this was wrong. This picture should have included four children, not three. And even though all of them felt a relief (which was never spoken of) at having their volcano of a father out of their lives, the trade was nowhere near fair. They would have taken him back in a heartbeat, abuse and all, if it meant Bartleby could have come home too.

Partway through a commercial break, the TV started acting up.

"Get up and fiddle with the antenna," Mom said to anyone who'd obey.

"I've got it," Chuck said. He extricated his numbed arm from where Mandy had been laying on it and got up. No matter what he did to the antenna though, the signal kept getting worse, until the picture was completely reduced to static.

"Is it broken?" Mandy asked.

"This sucks!" said Tricia. "I don't wanna seem ungrateful, Mom, but maybe you shoulda got us a new TV instead of a computer."

Mom gave Tricia's noseleaf a warning twang. "Now, hush. I know we don't need it, but it makes you three happy and that's that. That's what Christmas is for; getting fun stuff. Nobody likes getting practical things on Christmas."

Chuck was still battling with the rabbit ears. A ripple formed in the static. Some kind of shape seemed to be coming though. "Hey, hey! I think it's clearing up!"

And clear up it did. The static remained, but it had now shaped itself into a face. A face they all knew.

"Ohmigod, it worked! I can see them! Hi, Mom!! Hi Tricia, Hi Mandy! Hi Chuck!!"

Chuck stared open-mouthed at the TV screen that was displaying the ghost of his dead brother.

"I only have a short time, so I want you all to know that I'm perfectly safe here! I'm happy and I've got tons of friends. I'm even still going to school! I'll probably only ever get one chance to say this, so I want you to know that I love you guys so much I feel like I'm gonna blow up, and I miss you every single day! I love you all. I know I'm wasting my time, but I can't stop saying it! I love you, I love you, I love you!"

Silently and separately, all four of them mouthed the words, "I love you too." They were all to stunned to speak aloud.

"I gotta get going, but I hope you guys had a merry Christmas. And Mom, I'm sure the dinner you cooked was excellent. I wish I could send presents through this thing, because I'd love to shower you in stuff and make you happy!

"Anyway, I seriously need to go now. I love you all. I love you. Bye!"

And with that, Bartleby's image quickly faded. The static disappeared. The TV went back to its regularly scheduled programming.

Chuck stumbled backwards back to the couch and avoided sitting on Mandy only by inches.

For the longest time, all they could do was stare.

Then Mom got sick of the blaring commercials and clicked the 'off' button.

"It was Bartleby," Mandy finally found the courage to say.

"No, it wasn't," Mom said immediately. Her eyes looked hollow. She held Mandy closer and kissed her on the head. "It was a hallucination. That's all it was. It was-"

Tricia cut her off. "We all saw it, Mom."

Mom opened her mouth to argue. She had been through too much grief to allow hope to enter her heart and hurt her again. But Tricia's gaze kept her silent.

"He's okay," Chuck marvelled, staring into space. "Bartleby's okay, and he's safe. And he still loves us."

"Of course he loves us," Mom said without thinking. And then she realized that she had just accepted the miracle they'd witnessed. Her heart knew it was real. _She_ knew it was real.

Tears came to her eyes.

"He's okay..." she said, and hugged all of her children together.

~***~

Back in the abyss, Bartleby was crying too.

He was holding tight to Razielphustar as they stood on the green circle, this time descending back down, down, down.

"Was it what you'd hoped for?" the demon asked.

Bartleby sniffled and wiped his nose on his arm. He looked up, his smile more beautiful than anything else in the world.

"Better."

~***~

"I can't tell you how much I wish it could have lasted longer," Razielphustar said consolingly. The disc of light stopped and the duo stepped off, walking through the black liquid portal back to Bartleby's room and the party.

"I know. It sucked that it was so short. But the last thing I want is for all of you guys to get in trouble. I don't want God to find out and, like, shoot lightning bolts up your butts."

Razielphustar chuckled. "Oh, I think He'd do a great deal more than that if He ever caught on to some of the shenanigans we've pulled..."

The door opened and Bartleby's world went from eerie silence to joyful noise. The party had definitely not waned in his absence. And judging from some of the sounds coming from in there, Satan was still letting the guests sit on Santa's lap.

Bartleby let out a long breath. "Wow. It hasn't even fully hit me yet. The relief. I've been worried all this time about them. What it's been like without me. I'm glad you told me Dad's in jail. He deserves it, and they deserve to be away from him." He paused for a few seconds, to try and fully comprehend again the moment he'd just lived after waiting so long for it. "It feels good to know that they'll know I'm okay now. They won't have to worry anymore. And even though I forgot to say it like a doof, I'm sure they'll figure out that this means we'll be together again someday."

Razielphustar nodded, then knelt down and hugged the boy. "That relief you're feeling is the greatest gift we could give you, Bartleby. It's not nearly enough, but I hope..." He trailed off, then grinned. "Say, it appears as though some of your extended family down here would like a word with you."

"Wha-?" Bartleby had only turned halfway when he was ambushed by two furry bumper cars.

"BARTLEBY!!" Lexi squealed. She hugged him like a beartrap and he could feel her femboner grinding into his leg.

"How weird is that, that when we finally make it over here you're gone?" Xander said. He gave Bartleby a one-armed hug since he was carrying a brightly-colored box under the other.

Bartleby murred and hugged both of his best friends back. "I'm so glad you guys finally got here! It was only half a party without you."

Lexi shrugged. "Well, you know. We had family stuff."

Bartleby smiled cryptically. "What a coincidence. So did I."

Lexi was about to ask what he meant by that, but Xander rudely and gleefully interrupted her. "Hold that thought, spot-butt." He turned his foxiest grin on Bartleby and held out the package. "I have been waiting all damn day to give you this and the anticipation's been _killing_ me!"

Lexi seemed to already know what it was, since she was clamping her muzzle shut to keep from giggling.

Bartleby looked down at the lightweight gift. He gave it a little shake; felt something roll around inside. And then suddenly, he knew. There was only one thing it could possibly be.

He lifted the lid and looked inside.

Grinning like a nut, Xander threw up his hands and sang, "It's my dick in a box!"



The End
for now...





AUTHOR'S NOTES
*****

Merry Christmas, FurAffinity!!!

It's been over a year now since I started uploading and downloading here, and this is my little thank-you gift to every single one of you who has made my life awesome by leaving me nice comments, shoutin' on mah page, watching me, favoriting my fevered scribblings, drawing fanart and writing fanfics of my characters, and just generally being a bigass bunch of great friends. I wish every single one of you a happy holiday, whatever that holiday may be. Even if it's Gaarthump.

As always, huge-o-riffic gigantothanks go out to Alfador for getting this proofread within literally hours of me sending it. This guy is a freakin' superhero.

"A Very Bartleby Christmas Special"
Started 12/20/07, Finished 12/22/07 (at five o' clock in the smeggin' morning)

