Title: A Christmas Angel (Parody)
Author: Cantinera
Posted: 12-21-2003
Email: nicedream@rocketmail.com
Rating: R for those who dislike naughty language.
Category: Parody
Content: It's everywhere, really. Hints at Angel/Random Chicks.
Summary: It's Christmas Time at Wolfram and Hart, so Angel makes his Christmas wish.
Spoilers: General ones up to Season Five and casting rumors which the completely unspoiled might not know. You have been warned.
Disclaimer: The characters in the Angelverse were created by Joss Whedon & David Greenwalt. No infringement is intended, no profit is made. A Christmas Story, A Christmas Carol and Scrooged are not mine either.
Distribution: Ask me and it is yours.
Notes: This random concept came when I was joking with Syn, CB and La in chat. It didn't come out how we exactly joked about it, and for that I am sorry, but I just went with it. Also, it's kind of scathing towards a lot of the recent storylines, lack of storylines, dropped storylines, and character development, so here is your warning: it might be too harsh for people who love the recent direction. Also, I rip a bit off A Christmas Story and, uh, Scrooged, since it a less serious take of A Christmas Carol.
Feedback: Love it. Flames and praise accepted.
Thanks/Dedication:It’s the most magical time of the year, so they say. When families gather their loved ones around and look at trees over roasting chestnuts, or something like that. Whatever crappy Christmas songs say people do. Yeah. That’s what’s going on.
So it’s Christmas, when every young boy and girl wishes for Santa to bring them that one special gift. Fuck good will on earth and peace towards men (or whatever the saying is) – just give them the toys!
And so this year, one boy, his heart full of hope, wished, and wished, for his dream to come true.
“Please, Santa, let the cookies be done for I am so bored and sleeping with interns so young I look like I am aging!”
“And please, Santa,” Angel continued, “let me find my balls again. I miss them.”
Angel looked around the room, his eyes full of sadness. Christmas was here, but it sucked. His new shiny toy was blonde and annoying and replacing him and his women had left him. Hell, even Lilah couldn’t be there to give us the forced tension of enemies, so Angel was alone, waiting for girlfriends to come out of comas or cookies to bake. He wasn’t choosy!
“Yeah, I am not a Keebler Elf! I prefer Mrs. Fields, anyway,” said Angel, with a sigh in his heart.
“Well, well, look at the poofter, all bloody sod off and bollocks!” said Spike.
“Huh?” asked Angel.
“Never mind. What are you doing in here, pet?” asked Spike, taking a deep drag off his cigarette, sucking smoke in such a way that accentuated his cheekbones.
“I’m wishing for Christmas presents,” replied Angel.
“Boy, you’ve gone from special to “special,” pet,” replied Spike.
“Cordy always called me special. And a champion, too—“
“Yeah, yeah, save it, love. I don’t care because I rule this place now,” Spike said, smirking in such a way his cheekbones became even more prominent.
“You do not! I’m the special vampire with the soul and the show! This story is about Angel!” screamed Angel, upset with Spike, moving in closer in a way that suggested gay sex, but in a way that was so forced, they looked really, really straight.
“Whatever, pet, you are just jealous because she loves me!” yelled Spike, his cheekbones brushing Angel’s tongue in a way that suggested gay sex.
“She loves me! She told me in my dreams when she was in the higher realms.”
“Who are we talking about here?” asked Spike.
“I’m not sure,” said Angel, “I don’t really focus on one woman.”
“Oh, right. Pet. Well, you see, she loves me. I got to shag the bird more, pet, love, bollocks. The cookies are baking for me,” Spike said, sneering with cheekbones.
“The cookies are mine!” shouted Angel, staring at Spike.
“I thought your girl was in a coma?” Spike asked.
“I kiss everyone on this show. My girls are everywhere. And missing. With my balls,” said Angel as he frowned.
“Right, pet-love-gay-sex-boy, we shall have to… wait, do you smell something?” asked Spike?
“I think I do,” said Angel, “but what is it?”
“Cheekbones?”
“My balls?”
“No, it’s… it’s… COOKIES BURNING!” shouted Spike and Angel together, proving themselves to be the ambiguously gay duo.
“Sorry, guys, but I burnt gingerbread Buffy,” said Fred, frowning, “but I still think she is safe to eat?”
“Cookies… burnt…” said Angel, frowning, knowing he couldn’t get some Buffy-loving anytime soon.
“Wow, when did Angel get so “special”?” asked Fred.
“I’ve always been special. The Powers said so.”
“Yeah, and we saw what they did,” said Fred, before holding up a tray to offer a burnt cookie to Spike.
“No thanks, pet, I should go. Let Peaches fantasize over cookies in comas,” said Spike
And with that, the intended savior from non-suck left, leaving Angel to mope in his room.
So Angel moped, sulking alone, wishing for his balls, cookies and various other treats, but he wasn’t sure how to get it. Maybe he would write a letter to Santa. Maybe he would one day get his wish.
“Angel,” Fred said, holding out her tray, “cookie?”
“No thanks, Fred,” Angel said, walking away. Poor Angel.
***
Dear Santa,
I’ve been a very good boy this year. Well, not really since I’ve been stupid, joined up with an evil law firm, killed my son, acted really inept, moped too much and almost killed the woman I l—
Phew. Almost wrote it. I’ve been a patient boy, waiting for cookies to bake and the woman I need and want to come out of a coma. Well, not really. It hasn’t been that long and I am not really trying, but still, please Santa, could you do one favor for me? Could you get me my balls back? Could you get rid of Spike and his cheekbones? They make mine look less prominent and I know he wants to be the star! Please, Santa? I will be a good boy and not sleep with any more boring girls. I promise.
Love,
Angel
***
Gunn and Wes were walking down the hallways of Wolfram and Hart, holding hands merrily since this is fic and they can do whatever is wanted of them.
It was Christmas time at Wolfram and Hart. It was the time of year when Gunn and Wes wished for decent storylines, even if it was a pipe dream, nowhere near likely to happen, for they were Wes and Gunn – not Spike.
“You know, I, lawyer Gunn, should sue. We don’t have decent storylines.”
“Some of us don’t really have storylines,” said Wes, before adding an after thought, “do I really have a point anymore?”
“Hmm. Not really. We’ve replaced you with another English dude,” said Gunn.
“But my accent is better!” sobbed Wes.
“I know. My lawyer self knows all now, apparently.”
“Besides, Spike is here to take over Angel’s spot! Not mine!”
“Sssh, don’t let Angel know that. He is already down with his lack of balls,” whispered Gunn.
“Yeah,” said Fred, as she came around the corner, wearing nothing but lingerie “he really is. He’s going about how he is special and needs them back.”
“What are you doing here, Fred?” asked Gunn.
“I try and be in every scene since I am the only female regular left. I’m the new sexpot,” said Fred.
"Is that why you are just wearing underwear?" asked Gunn.
"Yes," answered Fred, "sex sells. Fuck feminism."
“Oh, Fred,” Wes said, brooding and looking longingly at Fred, knowing she might be his only chance at a storyline.
“Well, I am the sexpot! They’ve made me less quirky, less geeky to fill the woman gap because they blew it. I know the actress is gorgeous, but they’ve done some weird things with Fred. Everybody loves Fred!” shouted Fred.
“Are you okay?” asked Gunn.
“I have no idea where that came from. Now I shall go shake my ass at Spike since this is about Spike and we all must bow to Spike. He is our savior,” said Fred as she left.
“I have a case to go to,” said Gunn.
“I have to go find something to do,” said Wes.
And with that, one last longing look, they left, disappearing into the halls of Wolfram and Hart, searching for storylines, but most importantly – they were on a search for Angel’s balls.
***
“Well, folks, it’s that time of year again. The time where we come together, celebrate, and sing in honor of… something. Sorry, I’m not from these parts, so I am still a little uncertain about traditions, but I still love a good party! Anyway, I shall now sing a song for you. It’s a classic you might’ve all heard of. Frosty the Snowman, you know it? Yeah! Well, I’ve changed the words a bit to suit the Christmas spirit here at Wolfram and Hart for our Christmas party. This is an ode to our boss. I call this one Angel the Vampire,” said Lorne, giving his speech before he entertained.
Angel the vampire
Had a very big problem
He had lost his balls
So he searched the halls
Hoping one day to find them
Then came Cordelia
She finally woke from her sleep
She was really shocked to see
What had came to be
Angel had no balls to keep
He went from special to “special”
From the time she was not there
The change was so great
That she really didn’t care
Oooh, Angel the vampire
Wasn’t the only vamp with a soul
Spike was now around
New viewers hoping to be found
Not turned off by a certain asshole
Thumpety thump thump
Thumpety thump thump
Where did Angel’s balls go?
Thumpety thump thump
Thumpety thump thump
Who cares because it’s Spike’s show!
Lorne took a bow at the clapping fans, uh, lawyers. Yes, the lawyers that surrounded him at the Wolfram and Hart party.
“Thank you every body! I’m here every night because I made a stupid pact and I have nowhere else to go! I have no useful storylines, btu I am a regular!” Lorne said, blowing kisses at everyone.
“YAY LORNE!” shouted Fred at the back of the room.
“Fred, are you always around?” asked Lorne.
“Yes. I’m the only regular female presence. I have to be here to prove that ‘girl power’ wasn’t a sham,” said Fred, looking down at the floor.
“I know, honey, I know,” said Lorne, grabbing Fred in a hug, “now let’s go search for some decent drinks and storylines!”
“Okay,” said Fred, as she walked with Lorne, “but you mentioned Cordy was coming back? Is she?”
“Well, as a character whose ability changes from sensing people’s auras while they sing, to psychic, to more, to Angel’s nanny – basically whatever the storyline calls for – I cannot quite tell you how or why Cordy is coming back, but she is.”
“Why should I trust you?”
“For plot purposes because she will. I’m psychic for the time being, but very vague so it is a surprise.”
“Oh,” said Fred, realizing how it was very true – Lorne was used for random purposes.
“Now shall we go get a seabreeze? It’s essential to my character to have one,” said Lorne.
“Of course,” answered Fred.
And with that, they walked away, hoping to spot Angel’s balls on the way to the bar.
***
Angel tossed and turned in his sleep. He couldn’t get the rest he needed. Tomorrow was Christmas and he had so much to do. He didn’t have a woman, he didn’t have his balls, and Spike was taking over it. It was all wrong.
So Angel, feeling sorry for himself, tossed and turned in his sleep, hoping for something – anything – to happen to him.
And with that thought, he heard a noise in his room, accompanied by a light.
“Santa?” he asked.
“No! God, you are retarded now! Special to “special” as they say, well, everywhere.”
“Cordy?” Angel asked, rubbing his eyes in disbelief.
“Kind of. I’m being manipulated by the powers in an attempt to appeal to my audience, or something. It’s really sad. Just as sad as you losing your balls! What is wrong with you?” said Cordy, walking across the room, glowing.
“Cordy… I am so sorry! I didn’t mean to lose them! They just left for stupid storylines! I want them back!” said Angel, collapsing in sobs and holding on to his “blankie” for dear life, acting like the dork without balls he was.
“Spare me. I don’t care,” said Cordy, looking at her nails.
“Wait… why are you here? Did you come back to me? You are glowing and you came back to me?” Angel asked, his voice cracking.
“No, not really me right now. I’m the Ghost of Christmas Past, here to show you how cool it all was before you lost your balls and I got hijacked by out of work Firefly cast members.”
“So you aren’t staying?”
“HELL NO! Think I’d remain here?”
“True. So, what are you going to show me?”
“Oh, see me? I’m cool. I’m part of your past. Hmm… that’s about it. I’m taking off now. My point has been made.”
“Cordy, don’t leave! I need you! I want you! I l-… I l-…”
“Yes, Angel?”
“Damn,” said Angel, “I still cannot say it. Maybe if I got my balls back? You’ve got to help me!”
“Sorry, Angel, it’s not my place. I’m in a coma. Anyway, another ghost will be here soon, so wait for them. Maybe I will see you again,” said Cordy.
And with that, she was gone. Angel was all alone, without his balls, without Cordy and waiting for some Present Ghost who most likely was not Santa was not bringing him back his balls.
Christmas this year was going to suck.
“Angel?”
“Yes?” Angel responded, hearing a woman call him, knowing damn well it was not Santa.
“It’s me, Eve,” she said, immerging from the shadows, “I’m the ghost of Christmas Present.”
“Did you bring me a present?” asked Angel.
“No, not that kind of present… the Ghost of the now,” Eve responded.
“Well get away from me! I promised Santa I would not have sex with boring girls since I want my balls back.”
“But I am here to show you your present”
Angel remembered what Cordy said to him, being the Ghost of Christmas Past. Looking at Cordelia, having her tell him she was his past. So by that logic, looking at Eve made her the present.
“NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” Angel moaned.
“What is wrong with you?” Eve asked.
“Leave! I know how bad it is. Just… leave,” said Angel, “I want my balls.”
“Um, okay?” said Eve, leaving behind a sobbing Angel.
Stupid Cry-Angel.
So Angel sat there, sobbing again, waiting silently. He knew what was up. He may not be getting his balls, but he knew the story. Soon another ghost would come and show him his future.
He was afraid.
What lies ahead for a Vampire with a soul and no balls?
“Maybe I will get my balls back?”
With that, a dark figure in black showed up, hiding its identity from Angel. And shaking his head no.
“So I won’t get my balls back?” asked Angel.
Once again the dark figure shook his head, confirming his suspicions.
“Then what does my future hold? Who are you? Why are you here?” asked Angel, screaming, on borderline hysteria.
The dark figure took out a piece of cardboard and started writing on it, before holding it up for Angel.
I cannot speak. I am the Ghost of Christmas Future. I am here because Sarah Michelle Gellar didn’t want to come back, so that changes your future. Oops. But I say good for her.
“So there will be no Buffy? No baked cookies for me?”
The dark figure shook his head.
“So what does the future hold for me?” asked Angel.
The figure motioned for Angel to follow him, leading him away from his bed and out the door. When they opened the door, a different world appeared before Angel, one that seemed familiar, yet so different.
“What is this?” asked Angel, looking around, but not spotting his balls.
“Bloody hell! Bugger! Cheekbones!” shouted Spike, wandering around.
“Spike! You are so great!” shouted Fred, looking at him with complete lust, “I’m so glad you have your own show and not that stupid, balls-less Angel!”
“Me too, pet-love-bollocks. Me too,” said Spike, grinning cheekbones.
“What?!” Angel shouted, running towards Spike, before realizing Spike didn’t know he was there.
Angel walked back to the dark figure, pleading with it to tell him what was going on.
“I’ve worked too hard on this show to have it go to Spike! I want my show and balls back! What happens to me, Ghost of Christmas Future?” asked Angel, holding on to the dark figure’s cloak.
The Ghost of Christmas Future pointed at the graveyard, showing Angel the grave at the top of the hill.
“What is that? Is that me?” asked Angel, but his only reply was a motion.
Angel walked slowly toward the grave, scared of what he could possibly find. How could he die? He was eternal. Spike would have his show and he’d be dead. Without balls.
Life was so unfair.
Angel reached the grave, looking at the headstone. It was too dark to make out what was inscribed, so Angel took out a lighter to see what it said. He slowly began to read it, word for word.
Here Lies Angel
He lost his balls
And was no longer cool
They took his show away.
Spike r00lz
Angel dr00lz.
“WHAAAAAT???!” Angel screamed, following onto the grave, breaking into sobs.
The Ghost of Christmas Future took out his cardboard and black marker again, writing another message for Angel.
HAHAHAHA.
“Noooooooooo!” screamed Angel, again. “NOOOOOOOOOOO!”
HAHAHAHA.
“I want my balls back! I want Cordy! I want cookies,” moaned Angel, collapsing on to the ground, tossing and turning, over and over again.
Suddenly, he stopped tossing to realize he was once again in his bed. It was all a dream. He could still change it.
“I must! I shall get my balls back!” declared Angel, before running back downstairs.
***
Angel went downstairs, spying all his friends around the table, waiting to start Christmas dinner. It looked like your typical Christmas film home, so imagine that, since I don’t feel like giving the details. Fill in your own blanks, bitch!
“You guys?” Angel asked, frantically look at them all.
“Pet-love?” Spike asked.
“Not you,” replied Angel, “I don’t like you.”
“Fine, be that way, kitten-pet!” Spike said, before storming off angrily, realizing there will be no fake gay tension today.
“So, you guys,” Angel continued, “I need… wait, what is that crunching?”
“Sorry,” Fred said, “I was eating a cookie.”
“Burnt Buffy?” asked Angel.
“Yeah,” said Fred, grinning sheepishly.
“Never mind that. I need a miracle, you guys. All I want are my balls, but I get everything else.”
“We have snow outside,” said Wesley, glad to have any line.
“Snow? It’s Southern California!” exclaimed Angel.
“Yeah, but the Powers seem to think snow fixes everything for you and Christmas,” said Fred.
“Damn them!” Angel said, running outside, “I want my balls!”
And on the snow was a small note with Angel’s name on it. Angel picked it up, slowly opening it to find the revealing message.
Dear Angel,
If you stick your tongue on the pole, you will get your balls back.
Love,
Santa
Could it be? Could Angel really have his balls back? Would Angel succeed in becoming special again, not stupid Vampire without balls?
Angel carefully walked to the pole in front of the house (the pole must be from Santa), one step at a time, trying to fulfill his wish to reclaim his balls.
Once he reached the pole, he stuck out his tongue, slightly hesitant before sticking his tongue against the cold, frozen pole.
Angel closed his eyes, hoping to have his balls back, hoping this would bring him his Christmas wish.
But nothing happened.
“Uh, ih huck,” Angel said.
Before he could figure out why, Spike came out from the side of the house and started laughing.
“You fool! You fell for it, pet! You stuck your tongue to the pole!” said Spike.
“Ih whu hoo,” said Angel, fuming, but not able to move since his tongue was stuck.
“What’s going on here?” asked Wesley.
“Angel has his tongue stuck to the pole,” said Spike.
“That’s okay, I’ve got warm water to dump on it,” said Fred, rushing to pour water on it.
As Fred poured the water on it, it started to burn and Angel screamed.
“Fred, was that holy water?” asked Lorne, joining the fuss.
“Uh, yeah. Oops,” said Fred, smiling out of embarrassment.
“Quick, get more regular water,” said Wes.
Fred came back with regular water and began to dump it on Angel’s tongue, causing it to finally become unstuck.
“OW!” Angel shouted, before punching Spike and knocking him out.
“Hey, look,” Angel said, happily, “I may not have balls, but I can still beat up Spike!”
“Damn,” said Gunn, taking off his tie and tossing his briefcase in the snow, “I am sick of this lawyer SHIZNIT! Y’all fools! Fuck this stupid storyline. Fuck YOU! I’m done with you bitches. You hos SUCK! Super Ghetto Gunn is back and he is leaving. This shit be lame, crazy and still manage to suck like a two dolla crackwhore! I be gone!”
Gunn walked down the street, never to be seen again by them. Probably for the better. Run, Gunn, run!
Lorne, Fred and Wes walked back into the house to eat some turkey and play charades. They weren’t going to waste their Christmas with two lame vampires.
So that left Angel alone outside. Well, Spike was technically there, but unconscious, so it didn’t count.
Angel was resigned to the fact that he wouldn’t have cookies or balls. It all sucked now.
“I know,” said a familiar voice.
“Cordy?” asked Angel, “Or is it the Ghost of Christmas Past?”
“No it’s me, Cordy. Just saying Merry Christmas. And boy, doesn’t this suck without me!”
“Yes,” agreed Angel.
“There is a moral to this story,” said Cordy.
“Yeah,” said Angel, “If it ain’t broke, don’t smoke crack and hallucinate things that might be cool. It will suck. And I want my balls back.”
“Ain’t gonna get them, foos!” shouted Gunn as he ran by again, “I’s da Grinch and I stole ‘em! Bling bling!
End.