With Christmas just around the corner, rather than try to come up with some holiday webcomic related post, I'm just going to post an old Christmas story I wrote some time ago. It's simple, not all that great, but fun regardless. hope you like it:
The Christmas Yak
By: Yours Truly
One day,
some time ago, a yak was wandering across the snowcapped mountains of the
Himalayas very depressed. It was the
middle of winter now, and he had, for some reason, not been able to move down
the mountain this year. Cold, lonely, and
really, really hungry, the Yak simply wandered the crooked paths of the
blizzard strewn mountains.
Then a
monster leapt out from around the corner, and let out a heart stopping roar.
"Hey
Yeti," the Yak said. "How's it
going?"
The Yeti, an
eight foot tall white beast, dropped his arms from their 'I'm going to tear you
limb from limb' position. "Oh, hey
Yak. Didn't know you were still up
here?"
"Much
to my own dismay. Know which way is back
down, I think I'm lost."
"Sure,
but you'll never get there in this blizzard.
Let's go back to my place for the night."
The Yeti's
cave was large and relatively warm compared to the outside. It was well decorated for a Yeti's cave, with
some clumps of white fur, grasses, branches and the occasional collection of
bones here and there. "Make
yourself comfortable."
"Mind
if I munch on your couch, I'm starving."
"Sure,
but leave the bed," the Yeti patted on a red cloth that covered more
branches. "I need somewhere to
sleep tonight."
The Yak
began to munch on the Yeti's couch and let his mind wander a bit. "You know, this sucks."
"The
couch?"
"No,
the season. Every year, the big
blizzards blow in and I have to come down off the mountains to live. But it's just as cold down there. I wish I hibernated, at least then I wouldn't
have to deal with it."
"You
don't?"
"I
don't. Maybe some of those others do,
but I don't."
"Ah." The Yeti sat there for a moment, sucking the
marrow from one of the various bones lying around. "Well, what should we do about it?"
"Hibernating?"
"No,
nothing to do in winter."
"Right,
well, I'm not sure," the Yak stopped eating, sustained for the moment, and
curled up on what was left of the couch.
"What do you think we should do?"
"Well,"
the Yeti said. "A couple years
back, about this time of year, I came across a couple of those really pale
colored humans in one of those brightly colored leaves they're always setting
up. This one, in fact," he patted
the bed. "Anyway, right before I
tore the thing down and ate them, I heard one of them say 'merry Christmas,'
and I could just see a shadow of one handing the other a squarish rock. Course, after I tore into the place I looked
around and found what looked like a box made out of really thin bark with some
garbage in it."
"That's
nice, but how is that supposed to help?"
"I
don't know, but maybe you could copy the humans and give other people boxes
made of bark with garbage in it. Then
maybe they'd give them to other people and so on and so forth."
The Yak laid
there in thought for a moment. "I
don't know, most don't like garbage."
"Then
give them a big square rock."
"That
might work," the Yak said.
"But if I gave one person a rock, I'd have to give everyone a rock,
and that could take a while."
"True,"
the Yeti said. "Well, maybe you
could make it so that the person getting the rock would regret it or
something."
"Regret
it?" The Yak stood up with a
cheer. "That's it! I'll throw the rock at someone every year. The others will be real nice to me then as
they won't want me to throw a rock at them next year."
"Course,"
the Yeti interrupted. "They could
start throwing rocks at you."
"Not
if they don't know it's me," the Yak said.
"I've got an idea."
A couple of
weeks later, another yak, a nasty bastard who had knocked over the pervious Yak
and laughed on several occasions, was minding his business in the valley below
the mountains when an unfamiliar shape appeared out of the woods.
"Who's
there?"
The shape
walked forward. It looked like a yak,
but was covered in a strange red leaf like the ones humans use as shelters, and
with puffy white fur tacked on to it with branches. "I am the Christmas Yak," the
strange yak bellowed. "Have you
been a good yak this year?"
"What
the hell are you talking about?"
"I
know if you've been a good yak or a bad yak.
I know you've been a bad yak, always picking on the others. So I have a gift for you."
"A
gift?" The mean yak took a step
closer. "For being bad?"
"Yes,"
the Christmas Yak said.
"Well
let me have it then. I've been a really
bad yak this year."
"I
know." And the Christmas Yak
through a rock at the mean yak. A big
one.
About
twenty minutes later, the mean yak recovered from the blow and searched around
for the Christmas Yak, determined to beat the crap out of him for hitting him
with a rock. The mean yak searched
around for several minutes, but was unable to find any trace of the Christmas
Yak. Eventually, he came across the Yak
he had picked on last summer.
"Hey!"
the mean yak called. "Have you seen
some joker in a red leaf running around throwing rocks at people?"
"No,"
the Yak said. "I haven't."
"Really
weird, he said I was a bad yak and threw a rock at me because of it."
"Serves
you right," the Yak said.
"You've been a mean bastard to me, I'm glad he hit you with a
rock. Assuming, of course, you're not
making it up."
The mean
yak's eyes grew wide. Could the
Christmas Yak have been an apparition, dealing out justice with flying
rocks? "Uh, listen, I'm sorry about
that. All in fun, you know?
"Wasn't
fun for me."
"Yeah,
I guess not. Like I said, sorry."
The Yak
smiled. "Apology
accepted." The mean yak wandered
off, spooked but wiser.
The next
year, on that same day, the Christmas Yak appeared again, and hit a yak that
ate more than his share of a bush. And
then the next year, with one who always pushed his way to the front of the
line. Year after year, the Christmas Yak
would appear and hit the meanest yak in the herd with a rock. Eventually, people would try to be nice to each
other as winter came. Mother yaks would
tell their children the same thing every year.
"Be good, or the Christmas Yak will get you."
And as the
faithful day approached, yaks will warn each other of the coming danger. "Beware of the Christmas Yak." They would say. And when the danger had passed, they would
have a party to celebrate them not being hit by the rock. Everyone would have a good time, except the
one who got hit with a rock.
So to all
the people everywhere, remember, beware of the Christmas Yak.
Oh, the story isn't over yet:
A Visit from Saint Yakolas
'Twas the night before
Christmas, when all through the Alps
Not a creature was stirring,
not even a mouse;
The notes were all hung by
the chimney rock with care,
In the hopes that St. Yakolas
would read them there;
The kids were nestled all
snug in their hey beds,
While horrors of flying rocks
flew through their heads;
And mamma ewe was asleep, and
I on the cliff
Having just settled down like
a lame working stiff
When down in the valley,
there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from my perch to see
what was the matter.
Away to the pass I leapt like
a flash,
Tore down the pathway, and up
through the gash.
The moon on the breast of the
glacier ice flow
Gave the luster of mid-day to
objects below,
When, what to my wondering
eyes should appear,
But a cart full of hey, and
eight tiny sherpas
With a hairy old driver, so
stinky and fat,
I knew in a moment it must be
St. Yak.
More rapid than falcons, his
carriers they came,
And he grunted and spitted,
and called them by name;
"Now, Rinzen! now,
Kalden! now, Tenzin and Dawa!
On, Dorjee! on Nawanq! on
Karma and Mingma!
To the top of the arête! to
the top of the headwall!
Now dash away! dash away!
dash away all!
As dry snow that before the
snowstorm fly,
When they meet with an
obstacle, mount to the sky,
So up to the cliff-top the
carriers they flew,
With the cart full of hey,
and St. Yakolas too.
And then in a twinkling, I
heard on the snow
The pattering of the climbers
dropping their load
As I drew back my head and
was turning around,
There at the chimney rock,
St. Yokolas appeared unbound
He was covered in fur, from
his head to his hoof,
And his clothes were made of
an old tent, with some soot
A mouth full of hay he had
brought from the cart
And he looked domesticated,
though without a cart.
His eyes -- how they twinkled! his horns, how merry!
His hooves were like clods,
his snout like a cherry!
His droll mouth was drawn up
like a bow,
And the hair on his hat was
as white as the snow
The stub of the hay he held
tight in his teeth,
And for a moment I though he
would eat our wreath;
He had a broad face, and
looked a little cranky,
That shook me in fear, like a
bowlful of jelly,
He was chubby and plump, a
right gaudy old beast
And I bleated when I saw him,
expecting him to leave
A wink of his eye, and a
twist of his head,
Soon led me to believe I had
nothing to dread
He spoke not a word, but went
straight to his work,
And read all the notes, then
turned with a jerk
And flung a rock right at my
head
Knocking me down and almost
leaving me for dead
He sprang to his cart, to his
team gave a whistle
And away they all flew like
the down of a thistle.
But I heard him exclaim, as I
held unconsciousness back
"Happy Christmas to all,
and BEWARE THE CHRISTMAS YAK!"
