x - 0013 [Christmas Carol]
Dear Santa,
I want Christmas to pass without any crazy and/or embittered ghosts trying to use pop-psychology crap to force my partner and I into a festive murder-suicide pact. That would definitely help. I mean, on one hand it was awesome, because there were definitely ghosts there and I'm not the only one who saw them, but on the other hand, she shot me.
I want sunflower seeds. That's an easy one.
I want to know the truth. About everything.
I want Scully to show up here, because after the City she'd never think I was crazy again.
I want my action figure to be cooler next time. Maybe laser eyes? I think laser eyes would be pretty awesome.
I want... well, okay, aside from the ghosts-murder-suicide thing, I'd like this Christmas to be like last Christmas.
I'd normally call it an exercise in futility to write a letter to Santa, but who knows? The fat man in the red suit wouldn't be a huge surprise here. I don't know. I was never the sort to leave milk and cookies out as a kid, and our parents weren't the sort to convince us that we ought to. And... well.
Here's a request that doesn't require magic reindeer or obese men, which might be for the best since we don't have a chimney, anyway: Who can tell me something about this City's mysterious clock, other than the fact that the ticking is a major pain in the ass? Why's it here? What does it do? I'm curious.
I want Christmas to pass without any crazy and/or embittered ghosts trying to use pop-psychology crap to force my partner and I into a festive murder-suicide pact. That would definitely help. I mean, on one hand it was awesome, because there were definitely ghosts there and I'm not the only one who saw them, but on the other hand, she shot me.
I want sunflower seeds. That's an easy one.
I want to know the truth. About everything.
I want Scully to show up here, because after the City she'd never think I was crazy again.
I want my action figure to be cooler next time. Maybe laser eyes? I think laser eyes would be pretty awesome.
I want... well, okay, aside from the ghosts-murder-suicide thing, I'd like this Christmas to be like last Christmas.
I'd normally call it an exercise in futility to write a letter to Santa, but who knows? The fat man in the red suit wouldn't be a huge surprise here. I don't know. I was never the sort to leave milk and cookies out as a kid, and our parents weren't the sort to convince us that we ought to. And... well.
Here's a request that doesn't require magic reindeer or obese men, which might be for the best since we don't have a chimney, anyway: Who can tell me something about this City's mysterious clock, other than the fact that the ticking is a major pain in the ass? Why's it here? What does it do? I'm curious.