Post by Toz76 on Dec 18, 2022 4:09:43 GMT -5
THE OBLIGATORY TERRIBLE CHRISTMAS STORY WRITTEN IN A SINGLE SITTING THAT TOZ DOES MOST YEARS AND REGRETS ALMOST IMMEDIATELY
"Jesus Christ was born like 2000 years ago and died for our sins and all that, but he promised to return "soon". He should really just hurry up already, I'm sick of waiting and I wanna get to the eternal life part already."
-The Pope (it's a real quote don't look it up)
THE GOOD SHIP ALLCROFT, THE ARCTIC CIRCLE, DECEMBER 24
"And that's another hand for me, fellas!" The man with the combover laughed, sliding the poker chips in the center of the table over to add to his already massive pile. The frizzy-haired man shook his fist in mock frustration, while the bald man simply laughed.
"Can you believe it's almost Christmas?" The frizzy-haired man wondered aloud, staring through the porthole at the brutal winter storm outside.
"Of course it's almost Christmas, that's why everyone else has gone home for the holiday!" laughed Combover. "It's just the three of us here, monitoring glacial melt in the middle of nowhere instead of spending Christmas crying in a bar."
"Not like we do that much," the bald man chimed in, "the computer takes care of everything."
"And who takes care of the computer, dummy?" Combover asked. "Us, that's who. Now, Larry, why not deal us another hand?"
The frizzy-haired man nodded and began shuffling the cards. Truth be told, Larry had a family back home, and he was rather upset that he was missing Christmas with them. But the good ship Allcroft had a very important job collecting data for the climate scientists back in Oslo to analyze.
Larry dealt the cards and the next round began.
"I open, 150." Combover said, sliding a small fraction of his massive stacks of poker chips into the center.
"Aw, Moe, that's no fair! You've got so many chips that you can just buy every hand," complained the bald man.
"That's capitalism, baby!" Moe said, triumphantly. "The rich get richer and richer, just like the good lord intended."
"Now, hang on, that's not what Jesus said at-"
Larry's religious opinions didn't get a chance to be shared, though, as an alarm began sounding from the control panel across the room.
"The proximity alarm? That's odd. It's frozen solid out there, no way in hell there's any ships out in this storm." Larry opined.
"It's probably just a polar bear or something, but we should go check just to be safe." Moe opined.
The three of them put on their thick fuzzy coats and headed out to the deck of the ship. The arctic storm raged on, fierce winds stinging their faces as they looked out. The massive ice sheet to their port side was still there, and to starboard, the sea was gray and choppy, filled with icebergs and probably plastic.
"Must have been a false alarm, probably just a walrus." Moe said.
"Great, can we get back inside? I'm freezing!" complained the as-yet-unnamed bald man.
But just as they were opening the hatch to head belowdecks, Larry held up his hand to stop them.
"Hey, maybe the wind is just playing tricks on me, but does anyone else hear that?"
Moe listened for a few seconds, then shrugged. "All I hear is the whistling of the winter wind."
But the bald man looked thoughtful. "Actually, yeah. Maybe it's just the ac-er, the arctic wind, but I swear I hear... metal music?"
Suddenly, there was a loud crashing sound from the port side. The three rushed over to the edge of the deck to see the strangest sight.
A massive old-timey ship was gliding across the ice sheet. Wooden with big black sails, the deck was bustling with activity. As the ship grew closer, the trio noticed what was allowing the ship to sail across the ice: a massive ski was attached to the underside.
The wooden ship pulled up alongside the Allcroft. Painted in red was the ship's name, the Nelson White's Revenge. And billowing from the top of the mainsail was a black flag, adorned with a skull and crossbones.
"I'm sorry, is that a pirate ship?" Moe said incredulously. "What the f-"
Suddenly, several figures swung from the rigging and landed on the deck of the Allcroft. They were all dressed in stereotypical "pirate" outfits, albeit with a more modern twist- several had leather jackets over their clothes, and one guy had Freddy-Kreuger-esque knife gloves on his hands. The biggest man in the group was easily 6'7", pure muscle, with an eyepatch, a pipe clutched between his teeth, and murder in his eyes. At his hip were holstered two flintlock pistols, and attached to his back was a cutlass and an AK-47.
Moe gasped, realizing just who he was looking at. "My god, it's..."
"Avast, ye bilge-sucking rats! Ye've been boarded by the mighty crew of the Nelson White's Revenge! I be the captain of this motley crue, Baldassare Essex, and we're here for yer treasure!"
Moe and Larry stared at the pirates with a mix of confusion, amusement, and disbelief. The bald man, meanwhile, stood behind them, immediately regretting his festive Christmas tab of acid.
"What treasure?" Moe said at last, taking charge. "There's no treasure here, this is a research vessel. We're just collecting data to track changes in the climate."
"Aye, and I be a movie star." Essex laughed and turned to his crew. "The treasure is here, me hearties! I can sense it!"
"Oh come on," grumbled Tim "The Ripper" Scourge, the guy with the gloves. "That guy is clearly telling the truth, there's nothing here!"
"Oh, what, you're just gonna give up, are ya?" snapped Old Dog, a ragged-looking pirate near the back. "We didn't come all this way and attach that ski to the bottom of our ship just to give up empty-handed!"
"Um, I attached the ski," snapped Vince Norman, the ship's carpenter. "I didn't see you helping, old man!"
"Now folks, let's not get sidetracked..." crewmate Linkin Soad said hesitantly, but it was too late. Accusations of "Scallywag" and "Scurvy dog" were flying left and right.
Essex sighed and turned to his first and second mate. "Arr, I seem ta be losin' control of the situation. Can ye get this crew in order?"
Anthrax Slayer, the second mate, set down his five swords and produced an electric guitar from seemingly nowhere. He strummed an angry A7 chord, and the sound cut through the chaos. The crowd stopped fighting and stood at attention, except for Carmine Mass'cre and The Ripper, who were at each other's throats. Andrew Deathbringer strode silently into the crowd, grabbed each of them by the neck, and forcefully pulled them apart. The two hit the deck, hard. A withering glare from the usually-silent first mate shut them up before they could protest.
Essex surveyed his crew. "All right, ye sons of biscuit eaters, let's all take a moment te practice our breathing exercises and calm down. Anthrax, if ye would?"
The Megadeth of the Metalicana Seas stepped forward. "Close your eyes," he said in an uncharacteristically calming voice, "look deep in your soul. Step outside yourself, and let your mind go..."
The guided meditation seemed to work, and within a moment, the pirates were calm again.
"Thank ye, Anthrax." Essex took control of the situation. "Anyone need treatment from Van Scoy? Anyone? Are we good? Wonderful. I know ye be frustrated, but remember all that we've accomplished together as a crew."
"Are we even still part of this story?" Larry whispered to Moe as Essex began his rousing speech.
"This hearty crew can't just fall to infighting. Remember all the great things we've done together? Remember our triumphant climb of Crystal Mountain? Remember how it turned out to be a mighty wicked beast with a great mouth and we sent that beastie to dance with Jack Ketch? Or remember our epic battle with the minions of the sinister Balshaar? We're better than this! There's great booty on this ship, and we just need to work together to find it! Can I get an 'ARRRR'?"
"ARRRRRRRR!" The pirate crew cheered as one.
"Aye, now that's what I like to hear!" Essex said.
"Balshaar? That's an obscure lore drop..." muttered the bald man to no one in particular.
The three crewmembers of the Allcroft were bound by Andrew Deathbringer, and the pirates headed belowdecks. Kim, the pirate ghost, used her incorporeal nature to scout the ship, while the other pirates divided into teams of two and began searching room by room.
"I keep telling you, there's no treasure on this ship!" Moe protested. "The closest thing we've got to treasure is a machine that measures CO2 levels."
"My sources beg to differ, matey. Maybe ye don't know yer own ship as well as ye think ye do," Essex replied, getting up close into Moe's face to deliver his taunt. Moe could smell the cream cheese and spinach dip on the pirate captain's breath, which at least confirmed that the pirates had access to vegetables of some sort.
Linkin Soad poked his head into the room. "Excuse me, captain? Sythe and Van Scoy found a hidden door to a large hold. They think that's where the treasure is."
Essex laughed. "Aye, think ye could hide that secret door forever, did ye? On yer feet, worms! Anthrax, brings these landlubbers with us. Let's go find these dabloons once and for all!"
Anthrax jabbed a flintlock into Moe's back. "Obey your master," he said in a cold tone.
"He's not my-" Moe began, but the feel of cold steel against his neck changed his tune. "Alright, I'm obeying, I'm obeying."
The pirates escorted their captives to the bow of the ship, where a small storage closet full of janitorial supplies was located. The false back wall of the closet had been removed, revealing a large room built into the empty space of the ship's hull.
Moe was shocked. "I had no idea this was here... did you know about this, Larry?"
Larry shook his head. "I didn't know either! Did you know, Cu-"
But their bald friend was too deep in his LSD trip by this point to answer. Linkin Soad was carrying the drooling man over his shoulder, and looking none too thrilled about it, and was muttering under his breath.
"'Spy on the pirates', they said. 'They're crucial to our plans', they said. Now I'm getting drooled on... oh, I'll wring your stupid neck, Labyrinth, I swear to-"
"What was that, Linkin matey?" Essex asked.
"Nothing, cap'n!" Linkin lied.
The group entered the secret room, and immediately saw what they were looking for. Kim was hovering above several wooden crates, which Auld Lang Sythe and Martin Van Scoy were attempting to pry open.
"Well, blow me down! I told ye there was treasure here!" Essex said. "Let me help ye!"
"What are you gonna do with it, bury it?" Moe asked sarcastically, knowing full well Anthrax's gun was still at his back.
But Essex just laughed. "Silly landlubber! Pirates don't really bury treasure! Robert Louis Stevenson made that up for his book."
"But we did bury the gift of carrot, remember?" Linkin said. "We made a treasure map and everything."
"Aye, but that were more of a bucket list thing than a serious act of piracy. Here, set down the bald guy and help yer captain open these."
"Yes, sir! I mean, aye-aye, cap'n!" Linkin roughly dropped the bald man on the floor of the hold and ran to help the others.
It took some doing, but the pirates managed to pry open the crates, and what they saw amazed them.
"My god, is that what I think it is?" Van Scoy said, genuinely in awe.
"Aye, laddie, that's the pieces of the true cross," said Sythe. "And look, there's the Lance of Longinus, and one of the Holy Nails, and look, the Holy Prepuce! There's three Holy Prepuces!"
"How can there be more than one? Isn't the Holy Prepuce by definition a singular artifact?" Linkin Soad asked, confused.
"Och, of course you would say that, you godless heathen!"
"Whaddya mean I don't believe in God?" Anthrax snapped.
"Not you, laddie, Linkin!"
"Who said anything about GOD?" Linkin stuttered. "I-I don't even think Fark Devonshire is cool, I think he's a cringe character that got forced way too much and-"
"Arr, let's not fight again, me hearties!" Essex boomed. "Don't you realize what we've got! So many holy relics of Christ! These are imbued with incredible power, which means... we can sell 'em!"
The pirates cheered.
"Better not show the True Cross fragments to Mass'cre," Van Scoy joked. "They're totally a vampire, right?"
"You know, I'm glad you found those." Moe said suddenly. "I feel like in this modern age, we've completely lost sight of what Christmas is all about. It's all shallow consumerism and plain red coffee cups and 'woke' Santa. But it's important to remember that Christmas is really about one man who died for our sins. I had no idea all of his relics were aboard our ship, but I thank the Lord above for reminding me--no, for reminding us all--of the true meaning of-"
"Would someone shut that landlubber up?" Essex snapped. Anthrax obligingly clubbed Moe in the back of the head with the butt of his gun, and Moe went down.
"How did these sacred relics get on this ship, anyway?" Van Scoy asked. "I would assume the Catholics would keep better track of their holy relics."
"Wouldn' you like t'know, fugbuggeds," said a voice.
The pirates whirled around to see that the bald man was hovering in the air, crackling with magic power.
"You fools! You thought th' pope would leave deez holy relics unattended? We're moving 'em to a secret Catholig lair at th' North Pole to help with our plodd to make Armageddon hurry up and stard already!"
"I thought that guy was tripping balls," Linkin said, confused. "When did he become lucid, and why does he suddenly sound like he has a cold?"
"I'm a secred Catholig supersoldier! Using the Holy Grail and sduff, I've been granted the powers of all the Saints! You pirates will rue the day you messed wit' th' mighty JOHANNES CURLY!"
Thunder rumbled as the pirates prepared to face off aga-
"Alright, hold on just a jib-hangin' second." Essex turned to the camera, incredulous. "Yer tellin' me that this ship is crewed by Moe, Larry, and Curly? That's the goddamn Three Stooges! And has me second mate been exclusively speaking in thrash metal lyrics this whole time? Toz above, this is all non-canon, isn't it? We came all this way for something non-canon?"
Linkin tried to calm his captain down. "I mean, we've still got the holy relics, we can just-"
"Arr, they're obviously fake. Did ye even look at the Holy Prepuces? Thar all from white people! They can't really belong to the real Jesus Christ! Also, they're clearly too fresh to be 2000 years old."
"Wait, so it's all non-canon? What was even the point, then?" Linkin asked.
"Blow me down if I know, Toz probably thought it was funny." Essex said. "The PIC don't even get an appearance in years and then when we do it's just a non-canon story where we're all out of character and-"
"Oh, yeah, didn't you die fighting the War Ensemble anyway?" Van Scoy asked. "That should have been a dead giveaway, come to think of it."
"Propaganda War Ensemble, burial to be," muttered Anthrax Slayer, but everyone ignored him.
"I mean, maybe we're the 4WSR versions of ourselves?" Linkin Soad suggested. "This could be canon in some universe."
"Yarr, it be canon in the Christmas special universe where nothing of consequence happens and we all sing Christmas carols in front of a goddamn Christmas tree at the end."
"But Toz wouldn't waste time on something so pointless when she's hard at work on TozWSR!" Linkin said, desperately trying to save himself from non-canonicity.
"Do ye really believe that, matey?" Essex asked.
"...no." Linkin Soad looked defeated.
The pirates stared at each other awkwardly for a long time. Curly the Catholic Supersoldier awkwardly left for the deepest pits of Character Purgatory where he belongs.
Finally, Van Scoy spoke up. "So, how do we end th-"
ON THE FIRST DAY OF HORNEDMAS, MY TRUE LOVE GAVE TO ME,
A CUBUS IN A PEAR TREE
ON THE SECOND DAY OF HORNEDMAS, MY TRUE LOVE GAVE TO ME,
TWO SHITTY POSTS AND A CUBUS IN A PEAR TREE
ON THE THIRD DAY OF HORNEDMAS, MY TRUE LOVE GAVE TO ME,
THREE RETCONS, TWO SHITY POSTS, AND A CUBUS IN A PEAR TREE
ON THE FOURTH DAY OF HORNEDMAS, MY TRUE LOVE GAVE TO ME,
FOUR CONFUSED 3WSR MEMBERS, THREE RETCONS, TWO SHITTY POSTS, AND A CUBUS IN A PEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAR TREEEEEEEEEEEEE!
****************************************************************
Merry goddamn wintereenmas from Toz76. Here's your present, I hope it sucks
Next year I'm gonna write my half-assed Christmas/New Years post drunk so that it's EVEN MORE FESTIVE
Sorry for butchering your characters, Eyes, you can butcher my characters as much as you want
"Jesus Christ was born like 2000 years ago and died for our sins and all that, but he promised to return "soon". He should really just hurry up already, I'm sick of waiting and I wanna get to the eternal life part already."
-The Pope (it's a real quote don't look it up)
THE GOOD SHIP ALLCROFT, THE ARCTIC CIRCLE, DECEMBER 24
"And that's another hand for me, fellas!" The man with the combover laughed, sliding the poker chips in the center of the table over to add to his already massive pile. The frizzy-haired man shook his fist in mock frustration, while the bald man simply laughed.
"Can you believe it's almost Christmas?" The frizzy-haired man wondered aloud, staring through the porthole at the brutal winter storm outside.
"Of course it's almost Christmas, that's why everyone else has gone home for the holiday!" laughed Combover. "It's just the three of us here, monitoring glacial melt in the middle of nowhere instead of spending Christmas crying in a bar."
"Not like we do that much," the bald man chimed in, "the computer takes care of everything."
"And who takes care of the computer, dummy?" Combover asked. "Us, that's who. Now, Larry, why not deal us another hand?"
The frizzy-haired man nodded and began shuffling the cards. Truth be told, Larry had a family back home, and he was rather upset that he was missing Christmas with them. But the good ship Allcroft had a very important job collecting data for the climate scientists back in Oslo to analyze.
Larry dealt the cards and the next round began.
"I open, 150." Combover said, sliding a small fraction of his massive stacks of poker chips into the center.
"Aw, Moe, that's no fair! You've got so many chips that you can just buy every hand," complained the bald man.
"That's capitalism, baby!" Moe said, triumphantly. "The rich get richer and richer, just like the good lord intended."
"Now, hang on, that's not what Jesus said at-"
Larry's religious opinions didn't get a chance to be shared, though, as an alarm began sounding from the control panel across the room.
"The proximity alarm? That's odd. It's frozen solid out there, no way in hell there's any ships out in this storm." Larry opined.
"It's probably just a polar bear or something, but we should go check just to be safe." Moe opined.
The three of them put on their thick fuzzy coats and headed out to the deck of the ship. The arctic storm raged on, fierce winds stinging their faces as they looked out. The massive ice sheet to their port side was still there, and to starboard, the sea was gray and choppy, filled with icebergs and probably plastic.
"Must have been a false alarm, probably just a walrus." Moe said.
"Great, can we get back inside? I'm freezing!" complained the as-yet-unnamed bald man.
But just as they were opening the hatch to head belowdecks, Larry held up his hand to stop them.
"Hey, maybe the wind is just playing tricks on me, but does anyone else hear that?"
Moe listened for a few seconds, then shrugged. "All I hear is the whistling of the winter wind."
But the bald man looked thoughtful. "Actually, yeah. Maybe it's just the ac-er, the arctic wind, but I swear I hear... metal music?"
Suddenly, there was a loud crashing sound from the port side. The three rushed over to the edge of the deck to see the strangest sight.
A massive old-timey ship was gliding across the ice sheet. Wooden with big black sails, the deck was bustling with activity. As the ship grew closer, the trio noticed what was allowing the ship to sail across the ice: a massive ski was attached to the underside.
The wooden ship pulled up alongside the Allcroft. Painted in red was the ship's name, the Nelson White's Revenge. And billowing from the top of the mainsail was a black flag, adorned with a skull and crossbones.
"I'm sorry, is that a pirate ship?" Moe said incredulously. "What the f-"
Suddenly, several figures swung from the rigging and landed on the deck of the Allcroft. They were all dressed in stereotypical "pirate" outfits, albeit with a more modern twist- several had leather jackets over their clothes, and one guy had Freddy-Kreuger-esque knife gloves on his hands. The biggest man in the group was easily 6'7", pure muscle, with an eyepatch, a pipe clutched between his teeth, and murder in his eyes. At his hip were holstered two flintlock pistols, and attached to his back was a cutlass and an AK-47.
Moe gasped, realizing just who he was looking at. "My god, it's..."
"Avast, ye bilge-sucking rats! Ye've been boarded by the mighty crew of the Nelson White's Revenge! I be the captain of this motley crue, Baldassare Essex, and we're here for yer treasure!"
Moe and Larry stared at the pirates with a mix of confusion, amusement, and disbelief. The bald man, meanwhile, stood behind them, immediately regretting his festive Christmas tab of acid.
"What treasure?" Moe said at last, taking charge. "There's no treasure here, this is a research vessel. We're just collecting data to track changes in the climate."
"Aye, and I be a movie star." Essex laughed and turned to his crew. "The treasure is here, me hearties! I can sense it!"
"Oh come on," grumbled Tim "The Ripper" Scourge, the guy with the gloves. "That guy is clearly telling the truth, there's nothing here!"
"Oh, what, you're just gonna give up, are ya?" snapped Old Dog, a ragged-looking pirate near the back. "We didn't come all this way and attach that ski to the bottom of our ship just to give up empty-handed!"
"Um, I attached the ski," snapped Vince Norman, the ship's carpenter. "I didn't see you helping, old man!"
"Now folks, let's not get sidetracked..." crewmate Linkin Soad said hesitantly, but it was too late. Accusations of "Scallywag" and "Scurvy dog" were flying left and right.
Essex sighed and turned to his first and second mate. "Arr, I seem ta be losin' control of the situation. Can ye get this crew in order?"
Anthrax Slayer, the second mate, set down his five swords and produced an electric guitar from seemingly nowhere. He strummed an angry A7 chord, and the sound cut through the chaos. The crowd stopped fighting and stood at attention, except for Carmine Mass'cre and The Ripper, who were at each other's throats. Andrew Deathbringer strode silently into the crowd, grabbed each of them by the neck, and forcefully pulled them apart. The two hit the deck, hard. A withering glare from the usually-silent first mate shut them up before they could protest.
Essex surveyed his crew. "All right, ye sons of biscuit eaters, let's all take a moment te practice our breathing exercises and calm down. Anthrax, if ye would?"
The Megadeth of the Metalicana Seas stepped forward. "Close your eyes," he said in an uncharacteristically calming voice, "look deep in your soul. Step outside yourself, and let your mind go..."
The guided meditation seemed to work, and within a moment, the pirates were calm again.
"Thank ye, Anthrax." Essex took control of the situation. "Anyone need treatment from Van Scoy? Anyone? Are we good? Wonderful. I know ye be frustrated, but remember all that we've accomplished together as a crew."
"Are we even still part of this story?" Larry whispered to Moe as Essex began his rousing speech.
"This hearty crew can't just fall to infighting. Remember all the great things we've done together? Remember our triumphant climb of Crystal Mountain? Remember how it turned out to be a mighty wicked beast with a great mouth and we sent that beastie to dance with Jack Ketch? Or remember our epic battle with the minions of the sinister Balshaar? We're better than this! There's great booty on this ship, and we just need to work together to find it! Can I get an 'ARRRR'?"
"ARRRRRRRR!" The pirate crew cheered as one.
"Aye, now that's what I like to hear!" Essex said.
"Balshaar? That's an obscure lore drop..." muttered the bald man to no one in particular.
The three crewmembers of the Allcroft were bound by Andrew Deathbringer, and the pirates headed belowdecks. Kim, the pirate ghost, used her incorporeal nature to scout the ship, while the other pirates divided into teams of two and began searching room by room.
"I keep telling you, there's no treasure on this ship!" Moe protested. "The closest thing we've got to treasure is a machine that measures CO2 levels."
"My sources beg to differ, matey. Maybe ye don't know yer own ship as well as ye think ye do," Essex replied, getting up close into Moe's face to deliver his taunt. Moe could smell the cream cheese and spinach dip on the pirate captain's breath, which at least confirmed that the pirates had access to vegetables of some sort.
Linkin Soad poked his head into the room. "Excuse me, captain? Sythe and Van Scoy found a hidden door to a large hold. They think that's where the treasure is."
Essex laughed. "Aye, think ye could hide that secret door forever, did ye? On yer feet, worms! Anthrax, brings these landlubbers with us. Let's go find these dabloons once and for all!"
Anthrax jabbed a flintlock into Moe's back. "Obey your master," he said in a cold tone.
"He's not my-" Moe began, but the feel of cold steel against his neck changed his tune. "Alright, I'm obeying, I'm obeying."
The pirates escorted their captives to the bow of the ship, where a small storage closet full of janitorial supplies was located. The false back wall of the closet had been removed, revealing a large room built into the empty space of the ship's hull.
Moe was shocked. "I had no idea this was here... did you know about this, Larry?"
Larry shook his head. "I didn't know either! Did you know, Cu-"
But their bald friend was too deep in his LSD trip by this point to answer. Linkin Soad was carrying the drooling man over his shoulder, and looking none too thrilled about it, and was muttering under his breath.
"'Spy on the pirates', they said. 'They're crucial to our plans', they said. Now I'm getting drooled on... oh, I'll wring your stupid neck, Labyrinth, I swear to-"
"What was that, Linkin matey?" Essex asked.
"Nothing, cap'n!" Linkin lied.
The group entered the secret room, and immediately saw what they were looking for. Kim was hovering above several wooden crates, which Auld Lang Sythe and Martin Van Scoy were attempting to pry open.
"Well, blow me down! I told ye there was treasure here!" Essex said. "Let me help ye!"
"What are you gonna do with it, bury it?" Moe asked sarcastically, knowing full well Anthrax's gun was still at his back.
But Essex just laughed. "Silly landlubber! Pirates don't really bury treasure! Robert Louis Stevenson made that up for his book."
"But we did bury the gift of carrot, remember?" Linkin said. "We made a treasure map and everything."
"Aye, but that were more of a bucket list thing than a serious act of piracy. Here, set down the bald guy and help yer captain open these."
"Yes, sir! I mean, aye-aye, cap'n!" Linkin roughly dropped the bald man on the floor of the hold and ran to help the others.
It took some doing, but the pirates managed to pry open the crates, and what they saw amazed them.
"My god, is that what I think it is?" Van Scoy said, genuinely in awe.
"Aye, laddie, that's the pieces of the true cross," said Sythe. "And look, there's the Lance of Longinus, and one of the Holy Nails, and look, the Holy Prepuce! There's three Holy Prepuces!"
"How can there be more than one? Isn't the Holy Prepuce by definition a singular artifact?" Linkin Soad asked, confused.
"Och, of course you would say that, you godless heathen!"
"Whaddya mean I don't believe in God?" Anthrax snapped.
"Not you, laddie, Linkin!"
"Who said anything about GOD?" Linkin stuttered. "I-I don't even think Fark Devonshire is cool, I think he's a cringe character that got forced way too much and-"
"Arr, let's not fight again, me hearties!" Essex boomed. "Don't you realize what we've got! So many holy relics of Christ! These are imbued with incredible power, which means... we can sell 'em!"
The pirates cheered.
"Better not show the True Cross fragments to Mass'cre," Van Scoy joked. "They're totally a vampire, right?"
"You know, I'm glad you found those." Moe said suddenly. "I feel like in this modern age, we've completely lost sight of what Christmas is all about. It's all shallow consumerism and plain red coffee cups and 'woke' Santa. But it's important to remember that Christmas is really about one man who died for our sins. I had no idea all of his relics were aboard our ship, but I thank the Lord above for reminding me--no, for reminding us all--of the true meaning of-"
"Would someone shut that landlubber up?" Essex snapped. Anthrax obligingly clubbed Moe in the back of the head with the butt of his gun, and Moe went down.
"How did these sacred relics get on this ship, anyway?" Van Scoy asked. "I would assume the Catholics would keep better track of their holy relics."
"Wouldn' you like t'know, fugbuggeds," said a voice.
The pirates whirled around to see that the bald man was hovering in the air, crackling with magic power.
"You fools! You thought th' pope would leave deez holy relics unattended? We're moving 'em to a secret Catholig lair at th' North Pole to help with our plodd to make Armageddon hurry up and stard already!"
"I thought that guy was tripping balls," Linkin said, confused. "When did he become lucid, and why does he suddenly sound like he has a cold?"
"I'm a secred Catholig supersoldier! Using the Holy Grail and sduff, I've been granted the powers of all the Saints! You pirates will rue the day you messed wit' th' mighty JOHANNES CURLY!"
Thunder rumbled as the pirates prepared to face off aga-
"Alright, hold on just a jib-hangin' second." Essex turned to the camera, incredulous. "Yer tellin' me that this ship is crewed by Moe, Larry, and Curly? That's the goddamn Three Stooges! And has me second mate been exclusively speaking in thrash metal lyrics this whole time? Toz above, this is all non-canon, isn't it? We came all this way for something non-canon?"
Linkin tried to calm his captain down. "I mean, we've still got the holy relics, we can just-"
"Arr, they're obviously fake. Did ye even look at the Holy Prepuces? Thar all from white people! They can't really belong to the real Jesus Christ! Also, they're clearly too fresh to be 2000 years old."
"Wait, so it's all non-canon? What was even the point, then?" Linkin asked.
"Blow me down if I know, Toz probably thought it was funny." Essex said. "The PIC don't even get an appearance in years and then when we do it's just a non-canon story where we're all out of character and-"
"Oh, yeah, didn't you die fighting the War Ensemble anyway?" Van Scoy asked. "That should have been a dead giveaway, come to think of it."
"Propaganda War Ensemble, burial to be," muttered Anthrax Slayer, but everyone ignored him.
"I mean, maybe we're the 4WSR versions of ourselves?" Linkin Soad suggested. "This could be canon in some universe."
"Yarr, it be canon in the Christmas special universe where nothing of consequence happens and we all sing Christmas carols in front of a goddamn Christmas tree at the end."
"But Toz wouldn't waste time on something so pointless when she's hard at work on TozWSR!" Linkin said, desperately trying to save himself from non-canonicity.
"Do ye really believe that, matey?" Essex asked.
"...no." Linkin Soad looked defeated.
The pirates stared at each other awkwardly for a long time. Curly the Catholic Supersoldier awkwardly left for the deepest pits of Character Purgatory where he belongs.
Finally, Van Scoy spoke up. "So, how do we end th-"
ON THE FIRST DAY OF HORNEDMAS, MY TRUE LOVE GAVE TO ME,
A CUBUS IN A PEAR TREE
ON THE SECOND DAY OF HORNEDMAS, MY TRUE LOVE GAVE TO ME,
TWO SHITTY POSTS AND A CUBUS IN A PEAR TREE
ON THE THIRD DAY OF HORNEDMAS, MY TRUE LOVE GAVE TO ME,
THREE RETCONS, TWO SHITY POSTS, AND A CUBUS IN A PEAR TREE
ON THE FOURTH DAY OF HORNEDMAS, MY TRUE LOVE GAVE TO ME,
FOUR CONFUSED 3WSR MEMBERS, THREE RETCONS, TWO SHITTY POSTS, AND A CUBUS IN A PEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAR TREEEEEEEEEEEEE!
****************************************************************
Merry goddamn wintereenmas from Toz76. Here's your present, I hope it sucks
Next year I'm gonna write my half-assed Christmas/New Years post drunk so that it's EVEN MORE FESTIVE
Sorry for butchering your characters, Eyes, you can butcher my characters as much as you want