[The Old Fogies From UnMod Thread]

Better late than never.

[Twas XXIII: Not So Good To The Last Drop]

To those who sat through this 34-plus page monster, thanks for giving it a read. Hope you got some enjoyment from it.

And of course, Merry Christmas, folks.

[An OverClocked Christmas v.XVIII]

The album's done and up. GO GET IT!

 

[An OverClocked Remix v.XVIII]

Eighteen of these. Eighteen years. Holy shitballs, Batman!

Another album is in the books. This year we have seven songs of various moods, genres and tempos, all set for everyone to listen to and as you get deep into the holiday spirit. While we wait for Dyne to update the site, I'll be hosting the zip file. Once he's done, I'll change the link here to go there. Make sense? Good.

A big thanks to the remixers who joined up, and to Dyne for hosting these albums for yet another year. And on behalf of everyone involved, Merry Christmas!

https://williammichael.info/aocc/

[An OverClocked Christmas v.XVIII]

Less then 24 hours to go. Anyone who hasn't handed in their homework, check your PMs.

[Twas XXIII: Not So Good To The Last Drop]

It's that time of year once again, where I bombard you with many, many rhymes. It's December 18, which means another "Twas" has arrived. So grab a drink, take a pee if you have to, and let's do this...

 

Twas XXIII: Not So Good To The Last Drop

by
The Coop

Twas the night before Christmas,
and things were not well.
The house was filled with
Yukon Jack's familiar smell.

Tara sat in her room
without making a sound.
She just sat on her bed
and looked sadly around

at the room she'd called home
for the last eighteen years;
her vision a bit blurred
due to the building tears.

A duffel bag filled with
all the clothes she could put
into it quickly,
rested beside her right foot.

As she sat quietly,
she thought of how the day
had started out just fine,
yet ended up this way.

She had gone to the mall
with her old friend Sophie.
They'd been walking about
and acting so carefree

after they'd had some lunch
and went from store to store,
looking at clothes, CDs,
DVDs and much more.

It was as they passed by
where the mall's Santa was,
that they saw how all the
kids in line were abuzz

with excitement as they
waited for their turn to
ask Santa for a present;
maybe, even two.

“Let's get in line,” Sophie said,
a smile on her face.
“Say what?” Tara chuckled.
“We'd be so out of place

“standing with those kids
that are already in line.”
“Oh come on,” Sophie laughed.
“Let's go. It'll be fine.”

With a sigh, Tara was soon
being dragged along,
as the mall echoed with
that familiar old song

of Rudolph the reindeer
who had a bright red nose.
“You hyped?” Sophie asked.
Tara replied, “I suppose.”

“That's the spirit,” Sophie grinned
as she shook her head.
The two of them then got
into the line that lead

to the wintry scene
where Santa and an elf were.
And the next half hour
became something of a blur

as the children's chattering
continued non-stop
and drowned out the noises
from any nearby shop.

Soon, Tara and Sophie
were the next two in line.
“Got your ideas?” Sophie asked.
“Cuz I've got mine.”

“You're way too into this,”
Tara said with a smirk.
Sophie stuck out her tongue with,
“Don't wreck my fun, jerk.”

They shared a laugh before
Santa's elf came up to
Sophie and asked flatly,
“Seriously you two?”

“Yep!” Sophie smiled.
“I'm here to see Santa and see
if he'll get your friends
to make something nice for me.”

The elf rolled his eyes with
a muttered, “Fine. Let's go.
Just please behave, huh?
There are children here you know.”

“I'm not that bad,” Sophie
grinned. “Well, usually.”
The elf let out a sigh with,
“C'mon. Follow me.”

Tara watched as Sophie
went to Santa and sat
across the man's lap
and had a very short chat

with him about how she'd
been good most of the year
and how all she wanted
was to give him good cheer.

She then kissed him on the cheek
and smiled at the man,
which made him smile warmly;
as only a kiss can.

She then got up and left
and moved off to the side
with a silly smile
that she didn't try to hide.

“Your turn,” the elf said
as he neared where Tara stood.
“I'll behave too,” she grinned.
The elf replied, “That's good.”

It wasn't long before
she had reached Santa's chair,
clearly feeling awkward
as she was standing there.

“Hello there young lady,”
Santa smiled up at her.
“Would I be out of line
if I was to infer

“that the woman I just
spoke with came here with you?
If I'm right, are you going
to kiss my cheek too?”

With a small chuckle and smile,
“No,” Tara replied.
With a smile of his own,
“Then feel free to confide

“in me what it is that
you'd like to get this year.”
When she gave no response,
“Tell me, what's your name, dear?”

“It's Tara,” she said
as she continued to stand
next to Santa's chair as
he gently took her hand.

“Well Tara,” he smiled,
“what is it that you'd like to
have created by my skilled
and handy elf crew?”

Tara said nothing at first,
but her attention
was quickly pulled away
by the cries of someone.

She looked around and saw
a woman on one knee,
next to a little girl
who was looking sadly

at the doll in her hands
that was missing its head.
It wasn't on the doll,
but on the floor instead.

The woman comforted
the child as the girl cried,
and held the young one
until her tears did subside.

The woman then picked up
the doll's head before she
held out a caring hand
and got up from her knee.

Holding the girl's hand,
the two of them walked away,
and Tara stood there
without anything to say.

Santa saw how Tara
was lost in her own head.
With some concern in his eyes,
“Young lady?” he said.

His voice pulled Tara back
into reality.
She looked at him and gave
a quieted, “Sorry.”

He could see in her eyes
that her thoughts had gone to
someplace unpleasant
she didn't want to wade through.

“You OK?” Santa asked.
Tara nodded a bit
and said, “Yeah, but I think
it's best if I just split.”

“Before you leave,” Santa said,
“just tell me one thing.
For Christmas, what is it
that you'd like me to bring?”

Tara stayed silent
for a short time until she
began to speak in a
saddened voice quietly.

“Bring me a new childhood
where I'm not the one who
has to play adult when
I wasn't ready to.

“Or maybe a redo for
last year's Christmas day,
when some people came to
take my father away.

“Or at least make it so I
don't have to take care
of someone who'd be found dead
if I wasn't there.”

Tara's face saddened
as she closed her eyes and said,
“But that won't happen,
so that Christmas wish is dead.”

With a disheartened frown,
she took her hand away
as her words left Santa
unsure of what to say.

Without another word,
Tara rejoined her friend
and their trip to the mall
came to an abrupt end.

Tara said bye to Sophie
and then went back home.
Once there, she found her
mother had begun to roam

around the house looking
for some liquor to drink.
And the sight of this made
Tara's heart quickly sink.

That was hours ago,
and it made Tara decide
that she had to get away
and so chose to hide

away in her room and
pack up the things that she
couldn't leave behind
as she got ready to flee.

And so now there she sat,
waiting for when she could
get away and leave it all
behind her for good.

Tara closed her eyes for
a few moments until,
the smell of that liquor hit
and made her feel ill.

She could hear her mother
Pam, shut the bathroom door.
The harsh sounds that came next,
Tara tried to ignore.

She heard her mother
mumble incoherently,
and then heard the woman
vomit rather loudly.

Tara grimaced at the sound;
her eyes still closed tight.
“C'mon Ray,” she uttered.
“I wanna leave tonight.”

As if she'd been heard,
a pair of honks from outside
brought relief to her face as
“Oh, thank God,” she sighed.

With a quieted quickness,
she got to her feet
and then snuck down the hall,
trying to be discrete.

She stepped from the house
and gently shut the front door,
while the first tears of the night
looked ready to pour

from her eyes as she made
a beeline for the truck,
whose passenger door was
open so she could chuck

her duffel bag in,
which Tara did right away.
And as she climbed in, she said,
“Get me out of here, Ray.”

“Sure,” the guy said as he
put the truck into gear.
“Let's go to my place and
get the hell out of here.”

The engine revved up and
they drove into the night.
It was then that Tara
finally lost the fight

with all the emotions
that wanted out of her.
Her tears at last fell
and the world became a blur

as she cried where she sat
beside the person who
she'd been dating for three years
and who'd helped her through

ev'rything she'd been forced
to witness and endure.
Through her tears, Tara said, “Thanks.”
And Ray asked, “What for?”

“For getting me out
of that goddamned house,” she said.
“For helping me not have
to find my mother dead.

“I know this was sudden,
and I'm sorry for how
you've been pulled into this.”
Ray then said, “C'mon now.

“You've gone through some shit,
and now that shit's hit the fan.
You're my girlfriend, and I'll
help however I can.”

She looked over at him;
a sad smile on her face.
“So just relax,” he said.
“Soon, we'll be at my place.”

Back in her mother's house
that Tara had just left,
the whole place seemed empty
and was oddly bereft

of any of the sounds
that had been there before.
It took a few minutes,
but soon the bathroom door

opened up slowly and
out staggered Tara's mom;
her hair all messed up,
like it had endured a bomb.

Pam looked rather drained
as she stepped into the hall,
her words slurred a little
as “Tara?” she did call.

When she got no answer,
she went to Tara's door.
“Tara?” she repeated,
her word slurred a bit more.

She pushed the door open
with, “Tara, I need more
Yukon 'cuz I'm out.
Will you get some from the store?”

It took a few seconds,
but she soon noticed there
was no sign of Tara
in the room anywhere.

“Tara?” she called again
and when no reply came,
“I really not in the mood
for this stupid game.”

But all that she heard
was the silence of her home.
It was shortly after that,
she'd begun to roam

as she tried to find where
Tara was in the place.
As she did this, anger
quickly came to her face.

“Goddamn it,” she slurred
with a slight shake of her head.
She returned to Tara's room
and there on the bed

sat a folded piece of
paper she hadn't seen.
Pam went up to the bed
of her now missing teen.

Pam picked up the paper
and opened it to find
it was a written note
Tara had left behind.

“Mom,” it began, “I've
decided to move away.
Way too much has happened
and I just cannot stay

“in the house with you
anymore, so I've moved in
with someone I can trust.
Why? Where do I begin?

“I was eight when I looked
after both you and Dad
for the first time after that
ev'ning you both had.

“My birthday party
had just ended when you two
chose to get completely
trashed by burning right through

“all the liquor you had
in the house at that time.
Someone puked on the floor,
and left behind that slime.

“I came out and saw it,
while you both were in bed.
Did I go back to sleep?
No. What I did instead

“was clean up that mess
and keep watch over you two
in case someone choked on
any vomit that they'd spew.

“The next day, you saw
the stain and blamed me for
what one of you had done
during the night before.

“From that moment on,
you both made me feel like I
had to keep watch on you both
so you wouldn't die.

“Year after year I tried
to deal with all that crap,
hoping that maybe
reality would just slap

“you both upside the head
and show you that your kid
wasn't your damn caretaker.
But it never did.

“I tried to talk to you both.
Dear God, how I tried.
But you'd both just dismiss it,
and I always cried

“when I went to bed those nights,
feeling like your maid.
For years I put up with
the bullshit you displayed

“for me that showed how
all you both wanted to do
was stay shit-faced all the time.
That's what I went through

“week in and week out
until last Christmas Eve night.
Dad passed out in his chair,
and death snuffed out his light.

“He'd been drinking Yukon Jack,
and he drank too much.
He poisoned himself
with his fav'rite liquor crutch.

“He died during that night
and I spent Christmas day
watching the coroner
take my father away.

“And now here we are, Mom,
in the same fucking place.
You're still shoving that
Yukon Jack shit in your face.

“I can't take anymore,
so I'm leaving today.
I've been put through too much
and I refuse to stay.

“If you want to keep drinking,
then go right ahead.
But someone else can
be the one to find you dead

“in that chair the same way
that I found Dad last year.
For my own sanity,
I have to disappear.

“So know that I'm safe,
but I won't be coming back.
I hope that one day,
you'll leave behind Yukon Jack.

“I pray someday you'll see
what that shit's done to you,
before it gets to the point
where it takes you too.”

Pam's expression went from
confusion to sadness,
despite just how hard she tried
her best to repress

the emotions within her
that tried to break free.
“This can't be right,” she slurred.
“Did my daughter leave me?”

But those feelings soon faded,
and what took their place
was anger as a sneer
quickly came to her face.

“You turn your back on me?”
Pam muttered as she threw
the letter onto the bed.
“Well then, fuck you too.”

She stormed down the hallway
and stumbled just a bit
as she went to her bedroom
and dug through the shit

that cluttered up her purse
until she found her keys.
Into the cold night she went,
then fell to her knees

as she felt her stomach churn
right before she blew
out her stomach's contents,
along with some blood too.

She puked a second time
as the world seemed to spin.
She swayed in place slightly
as puke dripped from her chin.

It took a solid minute
for her to regain
her equilibrium,
which she tried to maintain

as she looked at the mess
that she'd made on the ground
and how her blood was mixed in.
After which, she frowned.

“That's not good,” she muttered
as she took in the sight.
“Maybe a liquor run's
not in the cards tonight.”

She spat a couple times,
then got back to her feet
and went to her mailbox
that stood along the street.

Her mail was collected,
and she went back inside;
her ire still in place,
which she didn't try to hide.

She went back to her chair
and sat down in a huff
before she began to dig
through all of the stuff

that the mailman had
brought her earlier that day.
And she did this without
a single thing to say.

The mail was mostly fliers
for sales here and there.
Each one selling things,
about which, she didn't care.

Electronics and shoes,
and some gunk for her skin.
But as she went through them,
things began to sink in.

“Hurry!” said one flier.
“It's your last chance to save!”
Another stated, “Get back
what you really crave!”

She paused for a moment.
Her brow furrowed a bit.
She seemed distracted as
she continued to sit

with the mail on her hands
'till at last she put down
what she was holding as
she continued to frown.

“There must be something on,”
she mumbled to no one.
She turned on the TV
and soon she had begun

to flip through the channels
'till she found something to
distract her from her thoughts
with a, “Guess this will do.”

The screen was filled with a
well known stop-motion tale;
one she hoped would be able
to fully derail

her unpleasant thoughts that
had given her some pause.
And so she watched “The Year
Without A Santa Claus.”

It was on the scene where
Mrs. Claus had a chat
with Mother Nature
and her odd bird's-nest hat.

Heat Miser showed up,
then Snow Miser did appear,
and both got a stern lecture
from their “Mother Dear.”

As she watched the show,
what she had drank took its toll.
Her eyelids grew heavy
and soon began to stroll

downward until, at last,
she had closed her eyes and
left the waking world
as she entered the dreamland.

It wasn't long before
she awoke and was met
by a scene she'd seen on
her television set.

All around her, things didn't
look right to her eyes.
It was like they were toys,
but blown way up in size.

Buildings with thatched roofs,
mud walls with embedded stone,
but they didn't look like
anything she'd been shown

at any point in her life,
in books or nature.
Even supposed wood
didn't look right to her.

What should have been straw,
looked more like big grouped tubes now.
The mud walls looked more like
paper mache somehow.

What were supposed to be stones,
were flat bits of wood.
Even the ground and trees
didn't look as they should.

Nearby stood a table
with a chair that seemed odd.
She went up and touched them,
then uttered, “Oh my God!”

as she felt how little
the two things seemed to weigh.
What looked like heavy,
thick wood, seemed to betray

reality as she asked,
her voice holding fear,
“Where in God's name am I?
And what's going on here?”

She looked around again with,
“This is a dream, right?”
“Not really,” came a man's voice.
“It's no dream tonight.”

Movement came from the strange
cabin that Pam stood near.
Its front door swung open
and Santa did appear.

The pants, coat and hat he wore
were red with white trim.
They looked like thick felt
with how stiff they were on him.

A black plastic-like belt
went around his belly.
His black boots were plastic
too, from what she could see.

His face was like polished wood
which had a beard glued
to it as his entire
appearance did exude

the idea he was
someone's over-sized toy.
And the sight of him nearing
didn't bring her joy.

The scene clearly freaked her out
as he came outside;
a fact that she didn't
make an effort to hide.

Santa drew closer with each
jerky step he took;
with movements that gave him
a near stop-motion look.

Pam watched him come toward her
with a stare that was filled
with confusion and fear,
which continued to build.

It took a few seconds,
but when her brain kicked in,
a memory came to her
from when she had been

in her chair as she watched
a stop-motion kid's show.
And this memory helped
make her confusion grow.

Her gaze fell as ev'rything
poked hard at her mind
and she uttered, “This is
a nightmare of some kind.”

“Yes and no,” Santa said.
“You're not awake right now,
but we're both very real.”
Too which Pam asked, “But how?”

She returned her gaze to
the fat man who grew near.
“What's going on Goddamn it,
and why am I here?

“Why does ev'rything look
like that show on TV?”
When Santa said nothing,
“Goddammit, answer me!”

Santa's stop-motion gate
soon brought him up to her.
He said, “Excuse me as I
get changed, as it were.”

With a snap of his fingers,
ev'rything went dark.
Then a second snap came
and there was a bright spark

that burst into being
and which hung in the air
as its body gently
shimmered while Pam stood there

with surprise on her face
and some fear in her eyes.
After a few moments,
the orb began to rise

and move slowly toward her
'till it was overhead.
With alarm in her voice,
“I don't like this,” she said.

“You've got nothing to fear, Pam,”
came Santa's voice from
the darkness before her.
“But I'd like you to come

over to me so that
we can have a short talk.”
“About?” she asked nervously.
He said, “Please, just walk

toward the sound of my voice.
I promise you'll be fine.”
With little steps, Pam
cautiously walked a straight line.

As she moved forward,
the orb of light did the same
and lit a small patch of ground,
which for Pam, became

the only place she felt safe
to put her feet on.
For outside of that light,
the world was simply gone.

No color, no movement,
just a void; dark and deep.
But steadily forward,
Pam continued to creep.

Just up ahead of her,
fading into the light,
was someone who was
a rather familiar sight.

Santa had begun to
come slowly into view.
But the man no longer looked
like what he used to.

Gone was the man that looked
like an over-sized doll.
He now looked human;
with a big belly and all

the red, white and black
attire that one would expect
of the one called St. Nick.
And this change did affect

Pam as she backed off
a couple of steps from him.
“Oh God, now what?” she asked,
her tone fearful and grim.

“It's alright,” Santa said,
holding out his right hand.
“There's something important
we should talk about and

look at together for
a few minutes my dear.”
He brought his hand up more
and asked, “Will you come here?”

“I um...” Pam uttered as
hers eye darted between
Santa and the darkness
where nothing could be seen.

“You're safe with me, Pam,” he said
in a calming voice.
“I wish you'd walk with me,
but you do have a choice.

“If you'd like, I could send
you back to your old chair
so you can continue
sleeping as you sit there.

“Or, you can come with me
so that you can see how
someone you know is in
a lot of pain right now.”

With some hesitation,
Pam went up to St. Nick.
As she held out her hand,
“This best not be a trick.”

“It's not,” Santa said
as he took her hand in his.
“A chance to help someone,
is what this moment is.”

A single image faded
in ahead of her;
it was fuzzy and looked
like a colorful blur.

But as it came closer,
the image began to
get clearer and more defined
the closer it drew.

It soon came to a stop
a dozen feet away.
Pam looked at the image,
unsure of what to say.

The picture was of a girl
who looked eight years old.
She was on her knees and
was clearly being told

to clean up the dark blotch
that a rug had on it.
The girl looked upset,
like she'd been crying a bit,

and her eyes were fixed on
the woman who stood there
in a bathrobe and slippers
with tangled up hair.

The woman was holding
a scrubbing brush out to
the girl and pointing
at the spot in question too.

“I've seen this,” Pam uttered
and continued to stare
at the photo before her
that hung in the air.

“That's you and Tara,”
Santa factually said.
“Taken not long after
you'd gotten out of bed

“and found a stain that you
quickly blamed Tara for.
A mess that your husband
had made the night before.”

“Excuse me?” Pam blurted out.
“That's complete bullshit.
She had spilled something there
and I made her clean it.”

“Do you recall the night
before?” Santa asked her.
Sounding vexed, she replied,
“No, I don't remember.

“And why would that matter?
I told you what she did.”
Santa replied calmly,
“Let's see what your mind hid

“away in a corner
over the last decade.”
After a moment,
the photo began to fade

as it was replaced by
a movie of some kind;
one that stirred up something
in the back of her mind.

It was like ev'rything
was seen through someone's eyes,
and this left Pam confused
as she struggled to size

up what was happening
in the scene that played out.
But when she heard someone speak,
it left little doubt

regarding who was involved
in what she did watch.
She heard a man say,
“Oh yeah, this shit is top notch.”

“Dale?” Pam faintly said
as she continued to stare
at the video-like scene
that hung in mid-air.

Pam then heard her own voice
say, “That is very true.”
The view then swung over
to reveal the man who

had spoken, which made Pam's jaw
go a little slack.
“Dale,” she uttered before
he said, “Give me that back.”

In the scene, a hand
came from below into view.
It held out a bottle,
and the man said, “Thank you.”

Pam watched as he took
a big swig of Yukon Jack.
And after he had finished,
he handed it back.

“Thank you my good woman,”
the man drunkenly smiled
just before he leaned forward
and grossly defiled

the rug on the floor
that was laid before his chair.
Then came Pam's voice, “You're done, Dale.
Just leave that mess there.

“I'll clean that tomorrow,
assuming it comes clean,”
she said as the view stayed
on the large pea soup green

stain that he'd just made
on the rug between his feet.
Pam watched the scene fade
as Dale got up from his seat.

“The picture I showed you first,”
Santa said softly,
“was taken by Dale
after you initially

“had yelled at Tara for
the mess she didn't make.
She told you the truth,
but you called her story fake.

“Tara had come out
after you two went to bed.
Where you had left the mess,
Tara chose to instead

“try to clean it up before
you and Dale awoke.
The next morning, you both
berated her and spoke

“to her like she'd been
the one to do something wrong.
From there, your eight-year old
daughter endured a long

“and hard road where she tried
to take care of you two
so that she wouldn't get blamed
for what you'd both do

“when you got too drunk and
left messes or passed out.
And year after year,
that's what her life was about.”

As Pam stood there, more of
such scenes began to fade
in from the darkness around
her until they'd made

a patchwork dome of moments
that played around her.
As she took them all in,
unease began to stir

within her as she saw
things she couldn't recall.
But her voice and husband
were present in them all.

And then there were the ones
where Tara was present.
Where the girl got yelled at
or wound up being sent

to get this or that bottle
as her parents drank.
Pam's emotions began
to churn and her heart sank

at how Tara had gone
from a happy young child,
to a sad and despondent
teen who never smiled

in any of the scenes
that showed her older face.
Santa saw this clearly,
but he remained in place

as he watched Pam become
overwhelmed by the sight
of what Tara had endured
for night after night

and day after day for
those ten very long years.
When Santa at last spoke,
Pam started shedding tears.

“Tara cleaned up what both you
and Dale left behind.
The bottles, the vomit,
anything she would find.

“And on top of that,
you know what else she would do?
She would spend time each night
checking up on you two

“to make sure that you both
would wake up the next day.
That in your sleep, neither
of you would pass away

“because you choked on
anything you'd bring up when
you were asleep. She did this
again and again

“each year without fail.
And all she got in return,
was your letting the bridge
between you and her burn.

“And now Tara's left
because you wouldn't see how
your actions affected her...
both back then, and now.”

Pam averted her gaze
as stood quietly.
In time, she asked sadly,
“She's gone because of me?”

“She is,” Santa replied.
“But Dale played a role too.
And what happens next,
is completely up to you.

“You can keep going down
the same road you've been on,
or you can try to fix things
before Tara's gone.”

“She's already left,”
Pam said in a quiet voice,
to which Santa replied,
“As I said, it's your choice.

“She left you behind, yes,
but she's not gone for good.
I don't know where she is,
but I think that you should.”

“What?” Pam said with confusion
as she looked at him.
“How could I know?” she added,
her tone rather grim.

“Who would Tara trust?” he asked.
“Who would she turn to?
I don't have that answer,
but I'm guessing you do.”

Without another word,
Santa brought up a hand.
He snapped his fingers,
and Pam left the crazy land

of darkness and her past as
she found her mind hurled
back into her chair at home
and the waking world.

She opened her eyes as
she sat up in her chair.
And with a puzzled gaze,
she quietly sat there

for a few minutes before
she got to her feet.
In her bedroom, she got dressed
and then took a seat

on the edge of the bed
as she put on her shoes.
She then went through her home
and picked up any booze

she was able to find
and dumped it in the sink.
Once she was done, she said,
“That's all of it, I think.”

She then put on her coat and
went out the front door,
only to return and
rush to her dresser drawer

where she had always kept
her purse and her car keys.
She mumbled to herself,
“Damn near left without these,”

as she grabbed those things
and went right back out again.
She started up her car
and shortly after then,

she was out on the streets
and stopped at ev'ryplace
she could think of to check,
with worry on her face.

With her phone in hand,
she went down her contact list
of Tara's friends' numbers,
making sure none were missed.

Pam called a few from her car
that she didn't know
where they lived. The others?
To their homes she did go.

At each one, she talked to
her daughter's friends as she
did her best to locate
where her daughter could be.

Two had simply told her
that Tara wasn't there,
while three others gave
suggestions regarding where

Tara might have gone and
to give those spots a try.
But Tara wasn't at
any place Pam stopped by.

By the time Pam returned
to her home, it was late,
and she felt like she had
some unbearable weight

that pressed hard on her mind
and heart as she sat down
in her old chair with a
deep and despondent frown.

Tara's friends were a bust,
and their suggestions too.
With tears in her eyes, Pam said,
“Tara, where are you?”

She dug out her phone
and scrolled through her contact list
once more to see if there was
someone that she'd missed.

Numbers and names went by
until she reached the last
one that had no name with it.
“Who's this one?” she asked.

She tapped on the contact
with a questioning stare.
She brought the phone up
to her ear, under her hair.

The phone rang sev'ral times
before someone answered.
“Hello?” a man said,
but the next thing that she heard

was the voice of a woman
in the background who
asked “Who is it?” and
he replied, “I've got no clue.”

Pam's eyes grew wider when
she heard the woman's voice.
She then began to smile
in a silent rejoice.

“Who is this?” the man asked.
Then in a more forceful
voice, “You best answer me.
I'm not up for some bull-”

“You don't know me,” Pam cut in
with a pleading tone,
“but I'd like you to put
my daughter on the phone.”

With ire, the man asked,
“Who gave my number to you?”
“I don't know,” Pam replied.
“I was just scrolling through

“the contacts on my phone
and it was the last one.”
“I know who you are,” he spat.
“This chat's fucking done.”

“DAMN IT WAIT, PLEASE!” Pam yelled.
“Please don't hang up the phone!
Just let me talk to her,
then I'll leave her alone

“if that's what she wants.
But I need to tell her things
and hear what she says...
even if what she says stings.”

The phone line went quiet.
Long enough to scare Pam,
before she heard Tara say,
“Well Mom, here I am.”

“I'm so sorry,” Pam said
as her voice cracked a bit.
“I know I fucked up.
I'm sorry for all of it.”

“You're sorry?” Tara said in
a near laugh. “Really?
That's all you can say after
all you did to me?

“All the shit that I saw?
All the shit I went through?
Everything I endured
because of Dad and you?!

“All the sleep I lost and
the times I cried in bed,
afraid that I'd wake up
and find both of you dead

“because of that fucking shit
the two of you drank!
All I did to help!
But all you both did was spank

“me and yell at me for
the messes you two made!
I put up with that shit
for a fucking decade!”

Pam could hear the pain
in Tara's voice before she
said, “I know,” in a soft tone.
“I know you hate me

“and I don't blame you
after all that you've been through.
All you've seen and heard,
and all the punishment too.

“But I need you to come home
so that we can talk.”
“Like I'd ever do that,”
Pam heard her daughter balk.

“Tara, please,” Pam begged.
“I'm asking you to give me
a chance to make things right.
I swear I will. You'll see.

“All the booze in the house
has been dumped in the sink,
and I'll clean the place up
so that it doesn't stink

“like an old woman's farts
or liquor anymore.”
Pam teared up a bit and
her throat tightened before

she continued with,
“Please, just give me a chance to
do whatever I need
to make it up to you.”

For what felt like hours,
silence had filled the line.
Pam had grown worried
when Tara gave a curt, “Fine.

See you in the morning,”
and hung up afterward.
From there, half of the night
for Pam became a blurred

stretch of frantic actions
as she cleaned up the place
with a stern look of purpose
etched onto her face.

By the time four AM
finally came to pass,
Pam flopped onto her chair
as she held a tall glass

of water, which she then made
quickly disappear.
“I forgot how much shit
Dale and I had in here,”

she grumbled as she sat back
while doing her best
to catch her breath while
she relaxed and tried to rest.

She set the glass onto
the small table between
her chair and Dale's as she sighed,
“Got this damn place clean.”

She rested her head back
and closed her eyes as well.
And into an exhausted
sleep she quickly fell.

The next thing she knew,
she was opening her eyes.
Sunlight now filled the room,
which caught her by surprise.

With a groan, she sat up, with,
“How long was I out?”
She checked her phone's time and
let out a panicked shout.

“OH SHIT!” she blurted as
she stood from her old chair.
She ran to the bathroom
to pee and brush her hair.

Once she had finished, she
went back to her seat where
an envelope rested
on the small table there.

“What the...?” she mumbled
as picked up what she'd found.
The front said “For Pam,”
and when she turned it around,

the back had no writing
and looked to be sealed shut.
“Who's this from?” she asked no one
as she sat her butt

right back down on her chair
and took the letter out
to see who it was from
and what it was about.

“Pam,” the letter started.
“I hope you're doing well.
I have something to share.
Something that I should tell

“you before you begin
to spend this Christmas day
with the young, heartbroken
woman who's on her way.

“What you saw earlier
was not quite all that you
and your departed husband
put your daughter through.

“What she endured, left
a lot of scars in her mind.
So I'm hoping when she
gets there, that you will find

“the patience and time
to let her speak about how
much she suffered from when she
was eight, until now.

“Take this chance to build up
what those years took away.
Show your daughter how badly
you want her to stay

“in your life, and that you
won't hurt her anymore.
Take care of yourself, Pam.
Now go answer the door.”

A few solid knocks at
the door brought Pam to turn
her attention to it
as a bit of concern

built up in her gaze.
She set the letter down and
was hit with a bright flash
just as it left her hand.

She then shielded her eyes
as the flash came and went.
Afterward, she saw that
the letter she'd been sent

was nowhere to be found.
It was just simply gone.
She looked confused as she asked,
“The hell's going on?”

A second knock on the door
pulled Pam from her chair.
She then pulled open the door
to see who was there.

The first thing she felt
was the cold breeze and chilled air.
Then she saw who was
giving her an icy stare.

Pam stood in place, a bit stunned,
despite that she'd known
Tara said she'd come by
when they'd talked on the phone.

“You came,” Pam uttered
as she looked at her daughter.
But Pam's gaze soon shifted
to someone behind her.

With Tara was a man
Pam had not seen before.
Her eyes stayed on him
for just a few moments more

before Tara spoke up and
got Pam's attention.
“I'm here,” Tara said coldly.
“Let's just get this done.”

A sad gaze came to Pam's face
as she saw the way
Tara's harsh glare told
how she didn't want to stay.

Pam's sadness soon won out
and she began to cry.
“Do you hate me?” she wept.
Tara gave no reply.

“I'm so sorry,” Pam said
as tears ran from her eyes.
“For all that I did and said
that made you despise

“your father and I
the way that you do right now.
I want to fix this, but I...
I'm not sure just how.”

From there, Pam took Tara
into her arms as she
continued to cry
almost uncontrollably.

Tara said nothing as Ray
watched with some concern.
But in time, Tara held
her mother in return.

“We've got a lot to discuss,”
Tara stated in
a tone that wasn't quite
as cold as it had been.

It took a short time,
but Pam soon let Tara go.
“Who is he?” Pam asked.
“Is he someone I should know?”

“He's my boyfriend,” Tara said.
“who you've never met.”
Pam looked just about as
surprised as she could get.

“You've been dating?” Pam asked.
“For a year,” Tara said.
“Since a few weeks before
I found my father dead.”

Ray chimed in with, “And I know
just what she's been through.
I'm here so that she won't
be left alone with you.”

With some anger in her stare,
Pam looked right at Ray.
“You're calling me a threat to her?
How dare you say-”

“I'm not saying that,”
Ray cut in with a firm tone.
“She's been through hell, and didn't
want to be alone

“here with you while you both
talked all of this over.
So that's why I've come
along, Pam. To support her.”

“This is a family
matter,” Pam said sternly.
“It doesn't involve you, Ray.
Just Tara and me.”

Tara stated, “He stays
and sits in with us, or,
I walk away and don't speak
to you anymore.”

Pam looked annoyed, but sighed
with a, “Just come in, please.
It's chilly out here,
especially with the breeze.”

Tara and Ray came in
and Pam shut the front door.
From there, they all took a seat
and began to pour

over the last ten years
and what Tara went through.
The stress, the sadness
and the intrusive thoughts too.

Many things were shared as
Pam and Tara conversed,
while Ray simply listened
to them talking at first.

But in time, he too
spoke up ev'ry now and then
to say what he'd helped
Tara get through each time when

she'd go to him so that
she could get away from
her mom when she was drunk
on cheap whiskey or rum.

Pam also shared what she'd
been through with Dale's demise.
The loneliness, loss,
and how she came to despise

having Dale gone and how
Tara avoided her.
But now Pam knew how
she'd pushed away her daughter.

Why Tara had felt like
she had to find a way out;
to stay away from
her mother, who'd curse and shout

about things that she did
and then blamed Tara for,
until Tara just couldn't
take it anymore.

As they continued to talk
time slowly went by.
Much stood between them,
but Pam and Tara did try

to talk without shouting
or slinging insults, but
it wasn't always easy
considering what

had gone on for so long
over the last ten years.
This lead to flared tempers,
short breaks and some shed tears.

The road ahead seemed daunting
for Tara and Pam.
With so much to discuss,
it was too much to cram

into one morning's talk.
In time, each knew that they
needed some time to think,
and so called it a day.

What lay ahead for them
as a mother and child?
Could what pushed them apart
ever be reconciled?

Who could say for certain,
but one thing was quite clear;
despite all they'd spoken of
they were nowhere near

resolving their issues.
But at least there was hope.
Perhaps they could mend things
as they learned how to cope

with all the pain-filled times
the two had talked about.
A long road lay ahead.
Of that, there was no doubt.

And as their dark past now saw
it's first bits of light,
Merry Christmas to all.
And to all, a good night.

[Exit Stage Left/Curtain Call: A 'Credits' Themed OCR Album -- Vibe Check + Participation Inquiry]

Not sure if my work would qualify in terms of clearing the OCR bar as it were, but I'm interested in this. Hell, I just did a credits remix for the upcoming An OverClocked Christmas album that comes out in a few days (and it ticks off all of the boxes for this project).

[An OverClocked Christmas v.XVIII]

12 hours ago, Duan said:

Hello Mr. Coop, please bring forward the release of this album for us, we can't wait any longer to receive this christmas present!!

Mr. Coop? HA HA! Fuck... now I feel old.

 

On 12/15/2024 at 2:51 PM, Sbeast said:

Got a shortish but fun remix I can contribute if you're still recruiting? 🎅

You've got four days to finish it and send it if you want to get in on the action. The deadline's 11:59 PM EST on December 20, 2024. If you submit it, make sure to let me know what the remix title is.

And don't worry, Mokram, Souperion will be there with us.

[HAPPY 25th BIRTHDAY, OC ReMix!]

[An OverClocked Christmas v.XVIII]

Those inboxes aren't going to check themselves, people.

[An OverClocked Christmas v.XVIII]

Check up on your lonely PM boxes, remixing people.

[An OverClocked Christmas v.XVIII]

Check them PMs, folks.

[An OverClocked Christmas v.XVIII]

Check your PMs, remixers.

[An OverClocked Christmas v.XVIII]

It's July 7th. It's time for the Summer, baby. We've got heat, we've got humidity, we've got all the things needed to make you feel sticky... and not in a good way. But don't worry, I've got something cool for you.

Yepper, it's time to start recruiting for the next An OverClocked Christmas album! We've got over five months before the due date, so let's see how many people are interested in taking part for the seventeenth entry in this (usually) happy, seasonal project.

As per the norm, this project is open to any and all OCR members, regardless of whether you're a posted remixer or not. You want info? I got your info right here...

When's The Project Deadline?- December 20th, 2024 at 11:59 P.M. EST.

This is now a REALLY hard, non-negotiable deadline, since it's very close to Christmas. We've had lots of last-minute entries and updates over the years and, to be perfectly honest, it shouldn't be that way. With months of time, having to hold off as long as possible for people made things pretty hectic for myself and Dyne in the past. Treating this project like a college paper that doesn't get worked on until the last minute got annoying rather quickly when it kept adding up to lots of hurrying year after year, with last second updates to artwork and retagging/reuploading things. As such, you have until one minute before midnight EST on December 20th to get me the final WAV or MP3 of your song. After that, you're shit outta luck until next year. I need time to do everything, including possibly making a little website to host this project if Dyne isn't online for one reason or another. So this deadline's set in stone... PERIOD.

What Information Does The Coop Need?- When you send me your final versions, I'll need what name you want to use (real or remixer handle) and the name of your remix. Please, come up with something when you send me links to the file, rather than just giving me a file called "ff6-owa-v3f.mp3" and nothing else. You don't have to tell me what song you're remixing, but I do need a name for the remix. Plus, if you have a website you'd like to pimp, supply that as well and I can add it to the MP3 tags.

What Can Be Remixed?- Any song, really. Traditional Christmas carols, video game music, published music by a signed artist, music from TV/cartoons/anime... whatever gets your heart racing and into that Christmas spirit. This isn't an official OCR album, so you can draw from more sources than just VGM. Plus, you can take a non-Christmas tune, like the Main Theme from Space Harrier, Stage 6 Mission 2 from Metal Head, or I Defend STM from Truxton II, and turn it into a Christmasy one. So know that it's not limited only to songs that are Christmas-like to begin with. All that said, do keep in mind that if you want to submit your song to OCR later, you'll need to keep this site's guidelines in the back of your mind. But for this album, you can take it in just about any direction you want and get as crazy as you'd like (but please, no "Silver Bells" done in farts or something).

How Long Can My Song Be?- As long as you want it to be. There are no restrictions on this, so whether it's 1:30, or 9:51 with a five minute guitar solo ala Metallica, it's all good. But again, if you want to submit your song to OCR later, keep their guidelines in mind.

What Genres Can I Remix In?- Again, the door's wide open here. Rap, Metal, Pop, Piano-solo, Orchestral, Jazz, 8/16-bit, Barber Shop Quartet, A capella, Death Polka... it's up to you where you want to take it.

What Format Should I Submit My Song In?- WAV or an MP3 of at least 192KB/s quality. I'll be tagging the MP3s and making MP3s from any submitted wavs, so you don't have to worry about that. But, if you'd like your website to be in the MP3 comments section, be sure to give it to me when you submit your song.

How About A Little Music To Get Us In The Mood?- To help everyone along, here's a YouTube list of Christmasy tunes made by Ocre a number of years ago...
https://ocremix.org/community/topic/32727-an-overclocked-christmas-~-now-recruiting/?tab=comments#comment-676914

What's The Website's Address Again?- It's got a new home at... http://williammichael.info/aocc/ This album will still be downloaded there as well, as Dyne will continue to host the albums on his site.

How Do We Contact This The Coop Person?- If you've got questions, comments, concerns, want feedback, or your track is done and ready to be sent to me, you can PM me here on OCR, or send me an E-mail at thecoopscorner@gmail.com. Just be sure you remember to include a link to your remix, or attach it to your message.

So yeah, there you go. You've got over five months to get something done for the lovely people of OverClocked Remix and the billions of listeners around the world who've become followers of our project.

Good luck, have fun and make everyone some Nice Work™!

Artists involved thus far...

The Coop (director, cover artist and remixer)
The Vodoú Queen (remixer)
colorado weeks (remixer)
Dj Mokram (remixer)
Souperion (remixer)
Seth Skoda (remixer)
Lampje4life (remixer)
NarnianWarrior (remixer)

[The Old Fogies From UnMod Thread]

Those were all made back in the later 2000s (I want to say 2008/2009-ish... somewhere in there). Those badges started being used on forums around The Web, and they eventually became popular in UnMod for a while. I made a bunch of them for people who asked to have a badge made for them. There were other people making them as well, so it wasn't just me, but I made a something like over 150 I believe.

[Twas XXII: Not Quite A Silent Night]

Now that's it's Christmas, I just wanted to say thanks to anyone who took the time to read through this year's entry. I know it wasn't as grandiose as some of my other ones, or as "deep" story-wise, but hopefully you got some enjoyment out of it.

Hope you have a good holiday folks, and Merry Christmas.

[An OverClocked Christmas v.XVII]

Link to the release thread...

 

[An OverClocked Christmas v.XVII]

This thing again? Yep. Another year, another album of various songs done up in a Christmasy style in multiple genres. There are 15 remixes for you enjoy this holiday season, making for just under an hour of tunage. And on behalf of everyone involved, thanks for listening and Merry Christmas.

https://williammichael.info/aocc/

[An OverClocked Christmas v.XVII]

And with that, it's Midnight. Time's up. I'm starting the whole process of getting things ready for Dyne. Thanks to everyone who got their remixes done. And for those who were still trying to finish anything, hang on to it for next year. Then you'll have a massive head start on everyone else.

[Twas XXII: Not Quite A Silent Night]

Well, here we are again. One week until Christmas, and a new entry in the now 20-plus year old tradition that is Twas. This one's not as long as some of the recent ones, so take some comfort in that you won't have to read through some 30 pages of stanzas. And thus, let's begin...

 

Twas XXII: Not Quite A Silent Night

by
The Coop

 

Twas the night after Christmas,
and at the North Pole,
St. Nick was done giving
out the presents or coal

that his elves had readied
for ev'ry boy and girl
who'd earned one or the other
across the whole world.

With that all behind him,
Santa could just relax
and enjoy a bit of time
to read through the stacks

of letters he'd gathered
between Christmas Eve's night,
and the first hints of
Christmas morning's coming light.

These letters had been placed
next to treats left for him;
treats that were plentiful
and filled him to the brim

until it felt like his gut
was about to burst,
along with enough milk
to fully quench his thirst.

As he sat before the fire,
he could hear his wife
come into the warm room
that was completely rife

with the odor of
hot choc'late and burning pine.
He looked over at her
and asked, “Is that one mine?”

“Nope,” she replied without
even the slightest smile.
“But, maybe I'll get you some
in a little while.”

“How thoughtful,” he chuckled
as she came over and
offered him the filled cup,
which he took with his hand.

“Thanks,” he said and sipped
the hot liquid within it.
She returned to her chair
next to his, and did sit.

He sat the cup down on
the small table that stood
between their two chairs and
commented, “That tastes good.”

“I know,” she said as she
worked on the small blanket.
“You've got what was left
after I took some of it.”

“You're a thief,” he grinned as
he reached over and took
the first letter, which he opened
to take a look

at what the child who wrote
it had to say to him.
As he read it, he said,
“This first one is from Tim.”

“What did Tim have to say?”
Jessica asked without
looking up at him.
Santa said, “Something about

“him wanting a Steam card.”
He then looked to his wife.
“Now why would this boy want
a steamed card in his life?”

With a small laugh, “It's not
a steamed card, you goofball.”
He replied with, “Then what is it,
Miss know-it-all?”

“A small, money-like card
you spend at the Steam store,”
she said as she continued
her knitting some more.

“Steam?” Santa said, his
confusion clear on his face.
“Why would someone want to
buy that from anyplace?”

“No,” she laughed lightly.
“You buy video games there.”
She looked to him and
saw his very puzzled stare.

This gave her a good laugh
for a second or two.
She composed herself with,
“I don't know about you.

“You know when ev'ryone
is asleep or awake,
yet you have no clue what
Steam is, for goodness sake?”

“Hey,” he retorted,
“I just deliver this stuff.
New trends aren't my thing,
so don't give me any guff.”

She laughed yet again,
then returned to her knitting.
He watched her for a time
from where he was sitting.

“What's that?” he asked.
“It's for Milton and Fay,” she said.
He replied, “Looks a bit small
to fit on their bed.”

“It's not for them, but their child,”
she replied with a smile.
“For when their journey
as parents starts in a while.”

”Fay's pregnant?” he asked,
the surprise in his voice strong.
“Indeed,” Jessica said.
“She's now eight month's along.”

“Why'd no one told me?”
he asked, clearly a bit hurt.
“I didn't know they were
having a little squirt.”

She asked, “Didn't you notice
her growing belly?”
She looked to him as
he stared at her flatly.

“Oh yeah, that would have gone
well for me,” he replied.
“I couldn't have found a
good enough place to hide

“from her if I had so much
as referenced how
she'd gotten plumper.
I know I'd be dead by now.”

Jessica laughed a bit with,
“Yeah, that's likely true.
But this blanket's something
that I wanted to do.”

He said, “You've never knit
something for the other
elves when they were going
to become a mother.”

She replied, “Milton and Fay
“have a special place
in my heart these days.”
As a smile came to her face,

she added, “They helped us out
a lot that one year.”
“That they did,” Santa nodded.
“That they did, my dear.”

As his wife continued
to work on the blanket,
Santa turned and reached over
so that he could get

the next letter from the stacks
of those he'd picked up,
not seeing his wife sneak
a quick sip from his cup.

With a small chuckle,
he said, “Listen to this one
from a boy named Stan,
who wanted a BB gun.

“It says here, 'Dear Mr. Santa.
My name is Stan
and I'll try hard to keep this
as short as I can.

“I'm sorry that I couldn't
leave anything out.
I hope you're not mad at me
or upset about

“not getting any treats
when you stopped by tonight.
It wasn't because
I was being mean, alright?

“I have diabetes,
so I can't eat the stuff
that has sugar in it
because it's really rough

on my body if my
blood sugar gets too high.
So if you were wondering,
that's the reason why.

“I still wanted to leave
a few cookies for you,
but my mom said that
you'd get diabetes too

if I left you cookies
or anything like that,
since you're at risk for it too
because you're so fat.”

Jessica had a good laugh
as Santa grumbled,
“And onto the naughty list
that boy just tumbled.”

“Hush,” she uttered and smiled.
“That's so sweet of that boy.
I hope you gave little Stan
a wonderful toy.”

She looked over at
her husband and heard the way
he chuckled as he tucked
Stan's short letter away.

“What's so funny?” she asked.
He said, “I can't tell you.”
With one eye brow perked,
she said, “It's best that you do.”

“D-I-A-B-E-E
T-E-E-S,” he said.
She looked a little lost
as she tilted her head.

He smiled, “The way he spelled
that word tickles me pink.
He won't be winning any
spelling bees, I think.”

“Be nice,” she admonished.
“Don't pick on that young boy.”
“I'm not,” he chuckled.
“And yes, he got a nice toy.”

He picked up the next letter
and unfolded it
as he readjusted
himself where he did sit.

Santa began to read,
but uttered not one word.
His wife glanced over as
silence was all she heard.

“Ahem!” she announced.
“I can't read lips, you old fart.”
Santa laughed a bit with,
“Now's a good time to start”

“learning how to do that,
so that maybe next year,
you can follow along
and enjoy these, my dear.”

Jessica chuckled
and grumbled, “Very funny.
Read me the damn thing
so I can hear it... honey.”

“Fine fine,” he said and grinned.
“Wouldn't want you to pout
and complain about how
I made you feel left out.”

He cleared his throat twice
and adjusted the paper,
then let out a quick cough
and looked over at her.

“Ready?” he asked as she
gave an exhausted frown.
“Heh heh,” he grinned,
then read what had been written down.

“Dear Santa,” he began.
“Hope you're doing OK.
I bet you're real pooped
after riding in your sleigh

and dropping off presents
to all the people who
had asked for all of those
toys, games and stuff from you.

“But I thought it might
be nice if I gave you a
poem to read once you're
done after Christmas day.

“I tried to keep it short,
but I had too much fun
and I didn't wanna stop
once I had begun

“to get really into it.
So, it's kind of long.
I hope that you'll like it.
Signed, Sarah Bizamong.”

Jessica raised her eyebrows
with, “Quite the last name.”
Santa nodded and said,
“I was thinking the same.”

“How long is it?” she asked.
“Four pages,” he replied.
With some surprise, she said,
“This should be a fun ride.”

“To be sure,” Santa grinned
as he looked over what
the girl had written down.
“Well, hold onto your butt.

“'Twas the night before Christmas
and all through the house,
Maxine was undoing
the buttons of her blouse.

“'She'd just gotten home
after a long day at work
at the bank where she'd put
up with many a jerk.

“'Ev'ryone was rude and
in a hurry to get
out of the bank so quickly,
it made Maxine sweat

“'as she did her best to
get them all on their way,
and bring an end to
such a bad, annoying day.

“'But now she was home
and ready for a hot bath.
Then a quick dinner,
and a movie for a laugh.'”

“Oof,” Jessica uttered.
“That rhyme was a bit rough.”
“And you said I was mean,”
Santa laughed with a huff.

“I'm not being mean,” she said.
“I'm pointing it out.”
He then said with sarcasm,
“And kindly, no doubt.”

With a quick laugh, she said,
“Let's continue, shall we?”
To which he replied,
“If you insist. Now, let's see...”

He looked over the page
that he'd been reading from,
and looked for where he'd stopped
as he began to hum.

“Ah ha!” Santa exclaimed.
“Found where I had left off.”
He then cleared his throat twice
and let out a small cough.

“'She got into the bathtub
and slowly sank down
into the hot water
as she began to frown.

““God, what a day,” she said
as she let out a sigh.
Then she brought up her left hand
and rubbed her left eye.

“'But a few moments later,
a weird sound rang out.
From her butt under water,
some bubbles did sprout.

“They reached the surface
after a moment or two.
Melissa scrunched up her nose
and uttered, “Oh, PEW!'”

“Hold it,” Jessica spoke
as she looked to St. Nick.
“A fart joke in her poem?
That's nasty and sick.”

“I think it's funny,”
Santa chuckled with a smile.
“You would, “ his wife grumbled.
“Childish humor's your style.”

“Well, she is a child,”
he said. “So she gets a pass
when it comes to finding
humor in passing gas.”

“What's your excuse then?”
she asked as she looked over.
He said, “It circles back
around once you're older.”

She shook her head and grinned
as she continued to
knit the blanket and uttered,
“I think that's just you.”

With a mischievous grin,
he turned a little bit
in his seat toward her as
she continued to knit.

“I seem to recall,” he said,
“hearing your laughter
echo down the hallway
not very long after

“what sounded like a whale call
came from the bathroom
while you were in there
making it... I would assume.”

Jessica looked to him,
saw the smirk on his face,
and said, “You'll be sleeping
on the couch at this pace.”

A moment later,
Milton came running into
the room and yelped with a
panicked, “Come quick you two!”

Jessica looked to the elf
and asked, “What's wrong, hun?”
“Fay's water broke!” he said,
“and her labor's begun!”

Santa set down the papers with,
“Their kid's early.”
Jessica looked to Milton
and asked, “Where is she?”

“Fay's laying on our bed,”
Milton quickly replied.
Santa said, “Then go back there
and stay at her side.

“We'll join you shortly
after we get what we need.”
Milton nodded and ran out
with copious speed.

“Let's go,” Jessica said
as she got to her feet
and Santa groaned a bit
as he stood from his seat.

It took a bit of time,
but the two of them got
some towels and a tub
filled with water that was hot.

They went into the room
that Milton and Fay shared.
Fay was on the bed in pain,
while Milton looked sacred.

Fay looked over and said,
“What are they doing here?”
Jessica answered, “To help
you give birth, my dear.”

Fay stared at them both with
some unease in her eyes
before she said, “Um,
“I don't know about this, guys.”

Mrs. Claus said with a smile.
“We've seen it all, dear.
You shouldn't do this alone,
so that's why we're here.”

“Jessica will help with
the birthing,” Santa said
as he came over and stood
right beside Fay's bed.

“I'll be handing her
whatever things she might need.”
“We should get to a hospital,”
Milton did plead.

“Not many of them
this far north,” Santa remarked.
“Just get this thing out of me
for God's sake!” Fay barked

as a fresh contraction
caused her body much strain,
and her face reflected
the wave of intense pain.

“I'm here,” Milton said
as he put his hand on Fay's,
but she looked at him with
a glare that was ablaze

as she yelled, “Your here, huh?!
Well, now I feel just swell!
It's because of you that
I'm in this living hell!”

Milton's eyes went quite wide
at her abrupt outburst.
“Um,” he uttered, “maybe
we could knock her out first?”

Santa gave a laugh with,
“Doesn't work that way, son.
I'm afraid her kind words
have only just begun.”

“This is your fault!” Fay shouted.
“You did this to me!
I'll get you back for this
you little shit! You'll see!”

Milton let out a sigh
and continued to hold
Fay's hand as she shouted
and continued to scold

him while Santa and his wife
got ready to lend
their help to Milton's
pregnant and yelling girlfriend.

And so began the
process of Fay giving birth.
A time of pain, shouting
and very little mirth.

Milton's held Fay's hand as
he did his best to coach
her through the labor while
she yelled one vile reproach

after another for
what seemed like forever.
But he stayed calm and
reassured her whenever

she grew weary of pushing
and looked tired as hell,
that she was getting closer
and was doing well.

Jessica was stationed
down between Fay's spread feet
where she coached Fay as well,
yet remained in her seat

as she waited for the child
to start to emerge,
while telling Fay to push
with each contraction surge.

Santa stood opposite
from Milton, ready to
help with anything that
his wife asked him to do.

The first hour went by,
which became three, and then five,
as all four of them helped
the baby to arrive.

And arrive it did as
the sixth hour had begun.
That was when Jessica said,
“Milton? Come here, hun.”

Milton looked from Fay to
Santa, who smiled and said,
“I'll stay here with Fay, Milton.
You go on ahead.”

Milton came up beside
Jessica as she told
him to grab a fresh towel
in which he would hold

up the baby when it
was coming out of Fay.
Milton looked nervous,
but gave a shaky, “OK.”

Milton did as asked and
brought a towel to her.
It was then that a new
contraction did occur.

“Push Fay!” Jessica said,
and Fay did just that
as Jessica kept watch
and waited where she sat.

It was as Fay was pushing,
that the baby crowned.
“Keep pushing!” Jessica said
as Fay made a sound

that was like a scream and
a sob mixed into one.
Jessica said loudly,
“Push Fay! You're almost done!”

Jessica took the towel
from Milton's shaky hand
as the man looked wobbly.
Like he could barely stand.

Fay pushed again as the
baby kept sliding out.
With that final hard push,
Fay unleashed a loud shout.

And when the baby passed through
Fay's vaginal door,
Milton let out a moan
and passed out to the floor.

His head hit with a thump
that made Santa wince.
Santa chuckled a bit
and said, “Good night, sweet prince.”

While Milton was unconscious
on the room's floor tiles,
the cries of a newborn
pulled a series of smiles

to the faces of those
still conscious at that time.
Jessica cut the cord
and cleaned off all the slime

that covered the infant
from almost head to toe.
Then she wrapped the newborn
up in the towel so

it was ready to be
handed over to Fay.
“Give Fay her son,” she grinned.
Santa smiled, “Right away.”

With care, he turned and looked to
Fay's exhausted face.
“Want to hold your son?” he asked,
his smile still in place.

Fay looked to Santa with,
“I most certainly would.”
She took the babe from him
as gently as she could.

Though far beyond tired from
all that she had gone through,
her weary stare held untold
amounts of love too

as she gazed down upon
the life that she'd helped make.
That's when a groan rang out as
Milton stirred awake.

“Could you help him up?”
Jessica asked her husband.
“I've got a mess to clean
and a hand, I can't lend.”

“Of course,” Santa said
and helped Milton to his feet,
adding, “Get up, my boy.
You've got someone to meet.”

Santa walked him over
to the side of Fay's bed,
as Milton rubbed the welt
on the back of his head.

Once there, Milton saw Fay
and the infant she held.
A look of surprise came
to him as his eyes welled

up with tears and his
expression soon filled with joy.
He looked to Fay and asked,
“Is it a girl or boy?”

“A boy,” Fay replied with
a warm and weary smile
before she asked him,
“Want to hold him for a while?”

Milton simply nodded
and then picked up his son
with a massive smile as
his tears began to run

down his cheeks at last as
his euphoria grew.
Santa leaned in with,
“Congratulations you two.”

With that, Santa joined
his wife to help with the mess
that had been left behind
after the tough success

of Fay's giving birth
to her and Milton's first child.
Once done, Santa looked at
the new parents and smiled.

Jessica did as well,
then nudged her husband so
he'd look to her as she
whispered, “Come on. Let's go.”

She and Santa reached the
bedroom door just as Fay
called out and stopped them
before they went on their way.

Fay thanked them for ev'rything
that the pair had done.
Jessica smiled at her with,
“You're quite welcome, hun.”

“Get some rest,” Santa said.
“You've had quite the ordeal.
We'll both come by again
once you're sure that you feel

“up for having a
visitor or two stop by.
Until then...” he finished,
with a small wave goodbye.

With that, he and his wife
gave the new mom and dad
some time alone with the new
child that they now had.

It didn't take long before
Santa returned to
his chair, and Jessica
was seated in her's too.

He picked up a few papers
and shuffled through them,
searching for what he'd read
before all the mayhem.

When he found it, he sat there
and said not one thing.
But his wife soon spoke up
with a loud throat clearing.

“A-hem!” Jessica pressed.
“Are you going to start?”
Santa grinned, “Just looking
for the fart bubbles part.”

She rolled her eyes as she
shook her head just a bit.
She let out a small sigh with,
“Well, get on with it.”

As Santa continued
the story Sarah wrote,
both Milton and Fay were
continuing to dote

on the newborn that they
had been given that night,
while Milton kept making sure
that Fay was alright.

Fay apologized for
the vile things that she'd said
to Milton before he
passed out and hit his head.

He laughed and told her,
after he gave her a kiss,
that he'd expected worse
while she went through sheer bliss.

She laughed a bit as well,
but said she was sincere.
That she loved him, to which
he said, “Love you too, dear.”

He gave her a kiss as
she held their newborn son.
Their new lives as a
family had now begun.

And as the world settled in
under the moonlight,
Merry Christmas to all.
And to all, a good night.

[An OverClocked Christmas v.XVII]

If you can get it done in the next nine days, feel free to join in.

[An OverClocked Christmas v.XVII]

PM #5 is live.

[An OverClocked Christmas v.XVII]

Fourth PM sent to everyone.

[An OverClocked Christmas v.XVII]

You can attach it to a Private Message sent to me. Or, if the file's too big, you'll have to upload it a host site (like Google Drive, Dropbox, etc.) and then send me a private message with a link to the file.

[An OverClocked Christmas v.XVII]

12 hours ago, Xaleph said:

I'm planning on writing some Christmas songs for https://www.animeremix.org - I can attach them to this event as well if you'd like.

If you want to, feel free. A remix or two from an anime won't hurt.