The Coop

Another year's gone by, and it's time once again for the yearly Twas poem. This one's a bit long (as usual), but it's ready for reading. So grab yourselves something to drink, use the bathroom if you need to, and let's jump right in, shall we? 'Twas XXI: Gone With The Wind by The Coop Twas two weeks before Christmas, and in the town hall, one Nick Fern listened as each man there spoke of all that had happened in their lives over the last two weeks since the last time they had all gathered there to talk of the trials that came with their struggle to stay on the wagon and keep their addiction at bay. Pam was the councilor for each session they'd hold, and her group was made up of just five men, all told. And though the room was warmer than the air outside, they left their coats on, rather than put them aside. Nick was the newest member of Pam's AA group. Matt, Todd, Brad and Joel, made up the rest of the troop. They sat in a circle, each on a folding chair. Six people were present, but seven chairs were there. The four other men spoke of how long it had been since the last time they'd touched some beer, whiskey or gin. They spoke of bad moments that tested their resolve. Of avoiding events that would surely involve everyone around them drinking or getting drunk. Of how the struggle, at times, left them in a funk. Of the yearnings and such that made some days so rough when problems arose that made sobriety tough. With the group being small, Nick's turn soon came about. He stood up from his seat and let a small sigh out. “My name is Nick Fern, and it's been over a year since the last time I drank any whiskey or beer.” After some light applause from the rest of the group, “However,” Nick added, “my will power did droop “a bit a few days ago, when I was alone scrolling through Facebook while I was on my iPhone.” “What happened?” asked Pam with some concern on her face. Nick said, “A memory I wish I could erase “came back at me when I wasn't expecting it. My mood really tanked and it made me feel like shit.” “Is that memory really that bad?” Pam asked him. Nick nodded a bit with, “Yeah, it's pretty damn grim.” Pam then asked, “Is it something you feel you can share?” “No,” Nick replied. “It's not something I want to air.” Pam could see that Nick seemed like he felt out of place. “That's fine, Nick,” Pam said with a small smile on her face. “If it's something that hard for you to go into, then I think moving along is what we will do.” She looked about at all of the other men there, who looked curious over what Nick wouldn't share. “So... now that we're fnished with our meeting,” Pam said, “rather than going home, let's have some fun instead.” A few seconds later, into the room strode a man dressed in attire for the nearing holiday. From the red coat and pants lined with furry white trim, to the thick black boots and white hair and beard on him, the heavy-set man gave off a very jolly air as he smiled warmly at the people who were there. As he approached, he gave his large belly a pat and let out a “Ho ho ho!” on top off all that. In one hand, the man held a full, big and red sack that he'd slung over his shoulder onto his back. He looked the part as he came up to the men, who looked as if they didn't know what to think or do. Some groaned a little, while others looked on, confused. And others still seemed to be a little amused as the Santa-looking man sat down with a grunt, removed his fuzzy red cap and rubbed his forehead's front. He brought the sack around and put it at his feet, then looked out at the men that he'd been brought to meet. “Gentlemen,” Santa smiled. “Greetings to all of you.” He looked to Pam with, “And Pam, hello to you too. “I've come here tonight to wish you all some good cheer, and to congratulate you for still being here. “For fighting your demons and trying your best to overcome your addiction and just make it through “each day, one at a time as you rebuild your lives... not just for yourselves, but your children and or wives. “You've all struggled and fought, and tonight, I'm here to give a very special gift to each one of you.” Santa then leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees, then opened the sack before his toes. “So tell me,” Santa said as he looked to his right. “What present is it that you'd like to get tonight?” The man who sat there gave a bit of a laugh as he held up a hand with, “Thanks, but I think I'll pass.” “Oh come now,” Santa scoffed. “There must be some thing that you lost in your battle with your addiction, Matt.” Matt looked to Santa with suspicion in his eyes, and said, “Telling you that wouldn't be very wise.” “Why is that?” Santa asked, to which Matt then replied, “Because I'm the reason that someone I loved died.” When the man stayed silent, Santa patted his knee. “It's alright, son,” he said. “Go ahead and tell me.” It took a few seconds, but Matt let out a sigh with, “My old calico cat, who I caused to die. “I came home drunk one night and pulled up to my place. I went in to my bedroom and planted my face “on my bed and passed out until later that day. When I woke up, I called my cat to come and play. “She always did before. It was kind of her thing. But this time, Casey didn't seem to be coming. “I got up and checked ev'rywhere for my old cat, but just couldn't find where Casey was hiding at. “I started to worry and got dressed to go see if somehow she'd gotten outside because of me. “But when I went outside, I got to the drive way and saw something that I can't forget to this day. “Casey was pinned under the front tire of my truck. She'd died because of me being a dumb, drunk fuck.” Santa could see the pain strongly in the man's stare; a stare that was getting glassy as he sat there. “Bringing back the dead is well beyond my control,” Santa said in a tone that was meant to console. “But I think I might have something that you can take home with you that might help a bit with your heartache.” Santa reached into his sack and dug for a bit, then pulled something out that made Matt gasp, “Holy shit!” In Santa's hand was a small stuffed animal that looked very much like a chubby calico cat. “This is yours,” Santa said as he held out the toy. Matt just stared at it with both sadness and some joy. He looked at the way the white, orange and black fur was patterned on the toy, and said, “It looks like her.” “This is my gift to you,” Santa smiled as Matt took the toy from Santa's hand with a bewildered look. Matt's had fully teared up as he smiled at the toy. “Thanks,” he croaked out. Santa said, “You're welcome, my boy.” From there, Santa looked to each of the men and asked if they would tell him of what they'd lost in their past thanks to the addiction they continued to fight. And one by one, each man there answered him that night. Todd lost a coin that was a gift from his dead dad. He'd pawned it because it was all the cash he had and needed to go get his next alcohol hit. He didn't pay them back and they got to keep it. Brad lost a pocket watch he'd gotten from his son. It was lost in a drinking game he hadn't won. Joel sold his wedding ring to get booze, and his wife found out, divorced him, and then walked out of his life. As each man got their turn, Nick listened to their tales of how their addiction led to the biggest fails of their lives and how it cost them all something dear, and gave them the regrets they'd endured ev'ry year. And once each man was done, Santa reached in his sack and pulled out something that made each man's face go slack. A coin that looked just like the one that had been pawned, the sight of which left Todd unable to respond. A ring that was sold and cost Joel his lovely wife, which he viewed as the biggest mistake of his life. And a watch that was gambled away on a game; an act that left Brad filled with great remorse and shame. With that, Santa said, “I know these gifts won't undo all the feelings of regret that still trouble you. “But keep them close as a way to spur yourself on and focus on the future and less on what's gone. “You can't change your pasts, but you can make each step count as you go forward in life and work to surmount “the choices and moments that came from your mistakes. And I believe you will. You've all got what it takes.” Santa then looked to Nick, who seemed filled with unease. “Now it's your turn, Nick,” Santa said. “If you would, please, “give me some insight on what you lost on your way to ending up here with all of us on this day?” Nick was quiet at first, but then spoke with a quick, “My drinking didn't cost me anything, St. Nick.” “Are you sure?” Santa asked. “Nothing was lost with you?” “The thing I lost,” Nick replied, “had nothing to do “with me getting too drunk and screwing up my life. I'm just here to stay clean and prevent any strife “before booze gets a chance to screw up my life too. So just skip me, please, if it's all the same to you.” With that, Nick left the room as each person still there looked a bit uneasy as they stayed in their chair. “I... guess that's it,” Pam said, in a caught off-guard tone as she looked at the time that was shown on her phone. “Our last meeting of this year has come to a close. And with that, you're all free to head home, I suppose. “Just remember that our next meeting's on the fourth.” To Santa, “Thanks for coming down here from up north.” “You're welcome,” Santa said with a smile as he stood from his seat, and added, “I hope I did some good.” “By the way they acted, I'd say you did just that,” Pam said as she gave Santa's shoulder a firm pat. “Thank you for coming, and have a great holiday.” “You too,” Santa said, and then started on his way out of the room he'd given presents to the men. But as he went through the door, he found Nick again. Santa stopped where he was and looked over at Nick, who cast him a sideways glance that was very quick. “You alright, son?” Santa asked. “I will be,” Nick said, to which Santa replied with, “I'm about to head “back home for the night and take some time to unwind. I'm still willing to listen, if you're so inclined, “to share what it is that pushed you to end up here. If you want to, I promise, I'll lend you my ear.” Nick said nothing for a bit, as he closed his eyes. “The dead can't come back, no matter how someone tries.” “Who died?” Santa asked. Nick said, “Someone that I can't picture in my damn mind. So, unless you can grant “the dead some kind of way to visit with someone, I think this conversation is pretty much done.” With that, Nick walked away as Santa watched him go out the building's doors and into the falling snow. Nick got to his car and drove back to his home, where he got changed and sat down in his reclining chair. With a mumbled swear word, he got back to his feet. “I just want to sit down,” he grumbled. “I'm so beat.” He got a fire going to help warm up the place, then got back in his chair with some ire on his face. He rested his head back and let out a small sigh. Within a few minutes, he looked ready to cry. The ire had faded and was replaced with sorrow, until tears broke free and reflected the fire's glow. “I hate this,” he muttered. “This whole damn time of year. Ev'ryone else is happy and I'm sitting here “trying not to cry over who I can't recall even a little of what they looked like at all.” The minutes ticked by as Nick sat there quietly and a few more of his tears silently broke free. But in time, Nick dozed off and left the waking world for the one his mind's eye cruelly went and unfurled. The roar grew louder as ev'ry second ticked by, so much so that he could barely hear himself cry, “Mommy, what's happening?!” in a child's voice that held great amounts of panic in the words that were yelled. He looked all around at ev'rything in his sight, with his eye level at a six year old boy's height. This made the noisy house that was all around him seem much scarier as daylight began to dim. The world grew darker; like the sun was blotted out. And a panic filled, “MOMMYYYY?!” was what Nick did shout. The air was filled with a sound, not unlike a train, and the wind whistled through ev'ry closed window pane. His ears began to hurt as the air pressure grew within the home until the roof of the house flew up into the air in chucks that were big and small. Then came a woman's voice; one with a southern drawl. The house began to shake, the cacophony swelled, and he could barely make out what that woman yelled. “MOVE IT, NOW!” she shouted, and the next thing he knew, he was pulled down a hallway and hurried into the bathroom where she shouted, “GET IN THE TUB, NOW!” over what sounded like something'd begun to plow through the entire house as the sound of breaking wood and things that were shattering did all that they could to drown out the world with the loud racket they made. And as this went on, the light continued to fade. But for a moment, he saw the shape of someone, with their face and body blurred as ev'rything spun wildly out of control through the air behind them. And as the bathroom became chaotic mayhem, that same woman's voice came as daylight faded out. “I LOVE YOU, NICK!” were her words as she tried to shout and be heard over all of what was going on. Nick let out a scream... and then ev'rything was gone. All of the loud noises could no longer be heard. The wind, the woman's voice, and not a single bird made even the slightest little bit of a sound. It was as if there was nothing alive around. The silence was a shock as Nick found himself in the middle of what had at one point in time been the house where he grew up. But now it was no more. There was no ceiling or walls. Not even a floor. Instead, ev'rything he'd known, was now just debris that seemed to stretch out as far as his eyes could see. But unlike before, ev'rything was seen from a grownup's height while his thoughts went into disarray as he saw the rubble where his home used to be. And in panic, Nick let out a pain-filled, “MOMMYYYY!” But the voice that rang out wasn't that of a child. Instead, the voice was that of a grown man whose wild and panicked eyes scanned over the debris that lay on the ground around him as he relived the day where all that he had known was taken away by a violent wind storm that came down from the sky. “Mom?” he called in a voice that was filled with dismay. “Where are you?! Answer me! “Tell me that you're OK!” When all that he got back was a silent reply, he looked to the storm clouds and simply muttered, “Why?” as tears built up fast in his sorrow-laden eyes. But sorrow was soon joined abruptly by surprise as Nick heard a man say, “I can see why you had reluctance to bring up a memory this bad.” Nick looked around with, “Who the hell's out here with me?” as his eyes looked about at the scattered debris. “It's just me,” came the voice, and Nick turned back around. He looked utterly confused and what he then found. Where once no one had stood, there now was a man who was dressed like Santa, and who seemed familiar too. “Aren't you the guy from the AA meeting last night?” Nick asked, to which Santa replied, “That's me, alright.” With ire, Nick demanded, “Why the hell are you here?” Santa looked to Nick and saw both anger and fear in Nick's eyes as he stood on what had at one time been a house, but was now rubble covered in grime. “What happened?” Santa asked, his voice filled with dismay. “Get out of my head!” Nick strained. “Go the fuck away!” “Please, talk to me, Nick,” Santa said as he drew near to where Nick stood on some rubble. “What happened here?” “What the hell do you think?!” Nick shouted at the man before he turned around and continued to scan what had once been a house before the storm moved through. “I have to find my mom. I'm done talking to you.” “You're mother was here?” Santa asked as he followed a bit behind Nick, who walked toward the nearby road. “Of course she was!” Nick snapped as he pointed to where the old bathtub still stood. “She was standing right there. “She grabbed me and put me into the tub before ev'rything was ripped apart from ceiling to floor.” Once he had reached the road, Nick looked up and down it. He saw no one about, and uttered a hard, “Shit! “Why's nobody coming?! I need help to find my mom and get her to safety, or else she might die!” Santa watched as Nick returned and began to dig through the many chunks of his home; both small and big. He pushed rubble aside. Lifted up partial walls. He dug through broken furniture and let out calls to his mother in hopes of getting a reply. At times, he looked mad. At others, like he could cry. Santa could do little as he watched the man pour over all the debris as he kept calling for his mother to say something so he could find where she was trapped and be able to free her from there. But the minutes ticked by as the light of day waned, and Nick's calls to his mother grew more and more strained. Santa heard how the heartache in the man's voice grew with each patch of rubble he finished going through. “Mom, please answer me!” Nick yelled as his voice cracked while he moved over to the next mangled debris pile. As Nick did so, Santa looked about at the scene and took in what little around him could be seen. Besides the rubble of what had once been Nick's home, the world seemed to be encased inside of a dome that was made up of a thick gray fog that blocked out ev'rything fifty feet away, or just about. What had to have once been the back and the front yard, were coated with debris and so utterly marred by the wind and rain from the twister that came through. And what grass still remained, was all torn apart too. At the front yard's end, the sidewalk was quite tattered. The street fared no better, as it too was battered. Chunks of concrete and asphalt had been thrown around, and holes in both the street and sidewalk were abound. Yet it all faded away into that thick fog. Meanwhile, Nick dug through debris like a panicked dog. “Nick,” Santa called out. And when he got no reply, Santa turned and saw how Nick continued to try to find the one who he desperately searched for. “Nick!” Santa then shouted. “She's not here anymore!” “Bullshit!” Nick yelled back. “I know my mom's here somewhere. So help me or fuck off! Which you choose, I don't care!” Santa stood there and watched for a few moments more, as Nick called out to the one he was looking for. Santa then went over to where Nick stood and dug. And without a word, Santa gave Nick a large hug. “LET ME GO!” Nick shouted as he tried to get free. “I HAVE TO FIND HER! GET YOUR FUCKING HANDS OFF ME!” “She's gone, son,” Santa said, his voice soft and somber. Nick replied with a frantic, “I HAVE TO FIND HER!” Santa kept hold of Nick until the man grew still and at last had a chance to let his anguish spill out of him in a sob that was filled with sorrow. And when Nick's crying had stopped, Santa let him go. Nick did his best to get his emotions pushed down. He looked embarrassed and kept his tear-filled eyes down. “I... I'm sorry,” Nick said with both remorse and shame. “I didn't mean to shout at you and act so lame.” “It's fine,” Santa said, his words filled with empathy. “I'd be in tears too if it had happened to me.” Nick was silent as he awkwardly looked around at the rubble of his home that was on the ground. “Will you tell me what happened?” Santa asked gently. “Back when I asked what you'd lost, you had said to me “that you couldn't remember how someone did look. I'm guessing they're the one that violent storm took?” Nick took a moment, but soon nodded in silence. Santa said, “The pain from that must have been immense.” “Yeah, it was,” Nick replied and then remained quiet as he seemed to gather up his thoughts for a bit. Before long, he looked to Santa with a pained stare. “My mom and I lived in the middle of nowhere. “Some dull, little town called Forrestville or some shit, which made no sense since there were no trees around it. “But that's where we were living until I turned six, and then Mother Nature played the meanest of tricks. “It was after my birthday that a storm came through. I'd only been six for a measly day or two “before ev'rything got turned onto its head by a strong tornado that dropped right out of the sky. “The thunderstorm didn't seem all that bad at first. But that changed pretty quick when the tornado burst “out of that damn storm and initially touched down maybe a half mile or so just outside of town. “The thing quickly became a really bad F3. When the sirens went off, my mom came and got me “from where I'd been watching it out on the front lawn. And barely a minute later, my mom was gone.” “That fast?” Santa asked, his voice filled with great dismay. “Yeah, that fast,” Nick nodded. “It took my mom away. “I remember her yelling my name as I stood scared shitless as the storm tore up my neighborhood. “I can still hear her voice and how panicked she was. But I stood in place like I was frozen because “of ev'rything I was seeing all around me. Our house was being torn apart, literally. “Chunks of roof were pulled off and the house shook like hell. But on top of all the noise, I heard my mom yell, “'Get in the bath tub!' as she put me in that thing. The next thing I remember, I just heard nothing. “No wind, nothing breaking, no yelling from my mom. When I got out of the tub, it looked like a bomb “had gone off where our home had been standing before. But thanks to that tornado, our home was no more. “I called out for my mom, but I got no answer. So I dug through the rubble to try and find her. “I called and called for her, but she never replied. I refused to believe that my mother had died. “An hour later, some people showed up to help me, and they got me over to an emergency “shelter so that I could be checked for injuries. The whole time I was there I just begged them to please “find my mom and to make sure that she was OK. For nearly a week, I had no choice but to stay “at the shelter 'till the police came and told me that they couldn't even find my mother's body. “They all searched for days and several miles around. But despite all of that, no trace of her was found. “Ev'rything in our home was completely destroyed. And from that moment on, my life became devoid “of people who truly tried to take care of me. I just bounced from one nameless foster family “to another for years until I turned eighteen. By that time, I'd become a drunk prick who was mean “and pretty much hammered twenty four hours a day. And for the next twenty years, that how it would stay. “I was angry and hurt. I had not one thing to remind me of my mom as I tried to work through “all the shit that had happened to me on that day. But instead of getting help, I kept folks at bay. “I shoved ev'ryone off, being the prick I was. I mean, I was ten when I got my first booze buzz,” Nick said with a small laugh and a shake of his head. “I'm honestly surprised I didn't end up dead “before I had become a legally grown man. And now, here I am, doing the best that I can “to keep my life from taking another nose dive. Taking it day by day and just staying alive.” At first, Santa didn't seem to know what to say. He stood there in silence with a look of dismay. “You don't have anything?” Santa finally said. “Nothing,” Nick replied. “All I've got's what's in my head. “A nightmare where I just never seem to see her. And in my other memories, she's just a blur, “like she's out of focus or something. It's damn weird.” Santa let his gaze lower as he stroked his beard. “At least I can remember her voice,” added Nick. “But what my mother looked like just refused to stick. “I tried therapy when I wanted to get clean. I told my shrink about this, asked, 'What does it mean?', “and he said that maybe what I saw scarred my mind. The trauma of the storm and how they couldn't find “my mother got mixed up inside of my own head.” With sadness in his eyes, he sorrowfully said, “But I really wish that I could see her again, and not just this blur that I've had ever since then. “To hear her talk to me without having to yell over ev'rything around us going to hell.” “I wish I could help, Nick,” Santa said with regret. “If I could, I'd do something to help you forget “what happened to you and your mom on that bad day. But I'm no magician who can just wave away “a bad memory or bring back those who've passed on.” “I know,” Nick replied. “I just wish she wasn't gone.” “I do too,” someone said in the same woman's voice he'd heard in his nightmare. “And if I had the choice, “I'd be right there with you to ease your mind and heart. But the world had other plans to keep us apart.” Nick began to look all around bewilderedly. “What the-?” he uttered. “Yes, Nick,” the voice said. “It's me.” “But... how?” he asked, puzzled at what he had just heard. That was when a shape appeared that was very blurred. So much so, that it looked like some odd-colored cloud that resembled who he'd seen when the F3 plowed into their home and he'd been gotten to safety. “Mom?” he asked as he watched the cloud. “Is it really-” “I don't have a lot of time,” the woman's voice said. “So please, don't ask questions. Just let me speak instead. “I know you lost me when you were just a young boy. That you suffered a lot and found so little joy “as you tried to grow up without me at your side. That you felt so alone as you grieved and you cried. “But I've always been near you when you needed me. I just had no voice to hear, or body to see.” “I don't even have a place to mourn you,” Nick plead. “No pictures, no trinkets... I got nothing, instead.” “I know,” the woman's voice came. “I'm here to fix that. It's the best I can do with our brief time to chat. “When you wake up, my boy, go to the place you'll see. Once you get there, I promise that you will find me.” It was then that the sound of sirens began to fade in from the distance as they made their way through the fog that surrounded where Santa and Nick stood among all of the pieces of metal and wood. “Help's on the way,” Santa said as he looked to where the road vanished into the dense fog that was there. As the siren's grew louder, the woman's voice said, “I'll be at that place, Nick. You'll find me in my bed.” “Bed?” Nick replied as he watched the cloud start to fade. Then with urgency, “Mom, you can't leave!” he forbade. Within a few seconds, Nick was snapped wide awake. He sat up in his chair, gave his head a small shake, then mumbled, “What the hell?” as he rubbed his forehead just before a mumbled “I gotta piss,” was said. Inside the bathroom, as he took himself that piss, a mental image surfaced from his mind's abyss. He stood in place and mulled over what he had seen; of a place familiar with a lake so serene, the water had no ripples. It was smooth as glass. The lake was surrounded by a huge field of grass, in which a single tree rose up above it all. “I know that place,” Nick gasped. “I have to make a call!” Within a couple of hours, Nick had called in sick to work and gotten himself a plane ticket, quick. By early afternoon, he was on his way to the place he'd seen that he was certain he knew. Once on the ground, Nick got a rental and went down to the cop station of what was once his home town. He told the police chief about what had gone down with his dream and the lake some ten miles from the town. And once Nick was finished describing ev'rything, he was insistent with his request that they bring anything that might be needed to search the lake. The chief was hesitant and thought Nick's tale was fake, but Nick swore that it was all true and not a lie. At six the next morning, the search team was parked by that lake as they began to sift through the water and the lake's slimy bottom as they searched for her. Nick paced back and forth as he stood near the shore line. Hours passed by, until it was about half past nine when someone yelled they'd found something in the lake's bed. At that moment, Nick knew, they'd found his mom's deathbed. In the days that followed, DNA tests were run. The remains where Nick's mother's, which meant that her son could give her a proper grave for her final rest. And doing so took a huge weight off of Nick's chest. He paid the extra cash to get it done so she could have her place of rest given to her quickly. And on Christmas Eve, Nick paid his first visit to his mother's resting place in plot three-twenty two. On that night, for the first time in what had to seem like an entire lifetime, Nick did not have that dream. Instead, he slept soundly and began Christmas Day with a smile as he got up and then washed away the “sleepy seeds” from his eyes in the bathroom sink and used the cup in there to get water to drink. He left the bathroom as his eyes stung from the soap. And that was when he saw the small white envelope on the coffee table. “That wasn't there before,” he mumbled to himself, then looked to the front door. He could see that the door still remained chained and locked. The sight of that brought him to look a little shocked. He went over and picked the envelope up and took out the letter within it with his right hand. He tossed the empty envelope onto the floor. And soon, his sleep-riddled eyes had begun to pour over what was written in the letter he held. But just a few lines in, “What the hell?” he expelled. “Nick,” the letter began. “I want to talk with you a little about the nightmare that you went through. “What I saw in your mind was something horrific. A brutal tragedy like that would surely stick “with someone who'd gone through it for their entire life and undoubtedly cause untold amounts of strife. “It's easy to see why you had turned to the drink. To endure such a thing would cause most hearts to sink “to a bad place that many would not want to see. And such events can cause lives to shift drastic'ly. “You lost all that you knew in one minute's passing. Your home, your mom and the life you knew... ev'rything. “Those are things I can't return to those who would ask. To make it all come back, is just too big a task. “Your mother gave her life so that you might live on. She did that out of love. And although she's been gone “for quite a few years, it still stings you to this day. But please, don't fear that pain or push it all away. “It's there to remind you how she loved you so much, that your mom was willing to endure death's cold touch “and make sure you saw the life that she wanted for the one who came from her. The one she did adore. “That bad day took her from you in more ways than one. And though that event's something that can't be undone, “I hope what you saw last night will give you some peace. That the nightmares and hard nights will finally cease “to burden you now that you'll get to see her too. And that, my dear boy, is my Christmas gift to you.” “See her?” Nick remarked with confusion on his face. “It was just that odd cloud in my dream of that place.” It was a moment before a bright flash appeared that filled the air with light before it disappeared. Nick looked down a bit as he blinked his eyes quickly a few times to both recover and let him see that the light had come from the envelope that he had opened, which continued to still glow dimly. “What the hell?” Nick uttered, confusion in his stare that was locked on the envelope as he stood there. It took a few seconds, but he soon reached down for the envelope where it still rested on the floor. When he picked it up, he felt something inside. “This was empty before,” he said, then chose to slide his fingers into it. And what he found inside, made his jaw go slack as his eyes opened quite wide. He pulled out an old photo that was stained by mud. And when he saw it, memories began to flood his mind as he looked at the scene the photo held, which brought tears to his eyes as his emotions swelled. In the photo was a boy who was about six. He wore a shirt with the logo of the band Styx going across its front as he smiled with such glee in the midst of what looked like a birthday party. There were balloons behind him and a small cake that was adorned with six burning candles where it sat. Behind all those balloons was a banner that read, “Happy Birthday, Nick!” in blue, green, yellow and red letters that were tilted and lined up so askew, that it looked like it was drawn by a child of two. “That's me,” Nick said as a small smile came to his face. “I remember that shirt that I won in some race “at school, where we had to spin around where we stood, before we all had to run as best as we could “to the finish line without falling to the floor. I came in second, and that shirt was my big score.” But his train of thought then vanished when his eyes came to rest on who else was there in the cam'ra's frame. There was a woman next to his six year old self. She was leaning over and looked beside herself as she smiled with her arms around his far shoulder. She looked at most thirty, and not a year older. Her round face and warm smile were filled with so much joy as she gave a side hug to that six year old boy. Her cheek was pressed to his as they looked at the one who had been taking the picture of all the fun. Nick said nothing as his eyes grew glassier still, until from their corners, his tears began to spill. They made their way slowly down his left and right cheek as he let out a sad, “Mom,” that was strained and weak. He looked at the picture for just a moment more, until his emotions at last began to pour out of him as he started to quietly cry. He did this for a minute until he did try to regain his composure just enough to say, “Hi, Mom,” as he fought hard to keep his tears at bay. He set the envelope on the coffee table, then went to get tissues so that he was able to look over what was in the photo and not damage the photo more with falling tears and snot. Once he'd left the room, the envelope was taken away in a bright flash of light that was gone when Nick returned to the room and had himself a seat on his sofa before he brought up both his feet and rested them on the coffee table before him so he could look over the photo some more. For the first time in quite a large number of years, he saw his mother through both sad and happy tears. In a violent moment, nature took away ev'rything he knew just after his sixth birthday. The horror of it left him without even one thing or mental picture of the loving woman who brought him into the world, 40 years ago. But now he could see her and how she loved him so. The short stretch of time she was with him as he grew, come flooding back to him as if it was all new. He now had a face to put to her, which meant he felt more attachment to each precious memory. And though they were few, they brought him a new found joy as he looked at the one he lost as a young boy. Sometimes the world can take what is dear to someone and cause deep scars on those left behind when it's done. They can be on the body, or the mind and heart. And the latter two scars can still tear lives apart. But once in a while, even unseen scars can be healed so that the one inflicted, can be pain free. And so, as Nick basked in that moment's healing light, Merry Christmas to all. And too all, a good night.

Message is now alive.

Message four is a go!

Third message is roaming about.

Second message... AWAAAAAAAAAAAY!

First message sent to everyone. Check your PMs.

It's July 9th. It's hot, it's humid, and people are still setting off fireworks at one in the morning. But you know what else is being set off? That's right, it's time to start recruiting for the next An OverClocked Christmas album! Yep, we've got a good five and a half month before the due date, so let's see how many people are interested in taking part for the sixteenth entry in this (usually) happy, seasonal project. As usual, this project is open to any and all OCR members, regardless of whether you're a posted remixer or not. You want info? YOU CAN'T HANDLE THE INFO... but I'm gonna give it to ya anyway... When's The Project Deadline?- December 20th, 2022 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. 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) Cyril the Wolf (remixer) Audiomancer (remixer) Lampje4life (remixer) HoboKa (remixer) Souperion (remixer) Wassup Thunder (remixer) Dj Mokram (remixer) colorado weeks (remixer) Nase (remixer) The Vodoú Queen (remixer) Rozovian (remixer?) Seth Skoda (remixer)

NO! RUN! SCURRY! FLEE! Disappear into the woods and never look back at it! No matter how close behind you it feels or sounds, don't - turn - around! For should its eyes catch yours, you'll be forever imprisoned within its gaping mental maw... forced to live only on bad tuna.

I'm not going to bash you or anything, so don't take this response in that way. it's not intended as such. That said... Whether you're someone who's just getting started, or if you've been in the business for decades, protect your work. Keep it safe so that if someone does steal it and starts selling it or claiming it's theirs, you have legal options. As for the "it's copyrighted the moment you create it," that's only a half truth. The copyright exists once it's fixed to a tangible medium of expression (paper, audio tape/CD, computer disk, etc.). But as you know, there are ways to dick around with files and such if someone else wants to try to claim they did it first. Registering your work before publishing broadens the protection of the 1978 Copyright Act that you referenced. So even if someone doesn't sue because they don't have the money to take on the ones using their work illegally, they can still contact the people and/or the website/company hosting the material and see what can be done to rectify the situation as the sole, registered copyright holder. I mean, my music isn't popular by any stretch of the imagination, and yet even my stuff got copyright claimed more than once by someone else trying to make some money off of my work (I was able to reverse that by proving I alone held the copyright). So why not take that extra step before releasing it?

First and foremost, copyrighting. If these are original works, then get those works copyrighted before you upload it all (aka "publish" it). You don't have to wait until the piece of paper shows up in the mail (which will take 2-3 months), just get the application submitted before you publish the music, and then release the stuff on Bandcamp or whatever. The reason I say this, is because the copyright will be effective as of the date you submitted the application, not when you get the actual paper. Just make sure you don't fuck up the application, or you'll have to submit it again and pay for it again. But first, you'll need to group the songs into three categories, since there's two of you... - Wassup Thunder songs (one only you wrote) - Souperion songs (ones only they wrote) - Wassup Thunder and Souperion songs (ones you both wrote) Each group will need it's own copyright submission. However, you can do up to ten songs together in one $55 submission as long as each song has only one "author," or the same authors for each song. So, that'll save some money. There's an option for 20 unpublished songs for $85 supposedly, but that wasn't available when I did my "Vol. 3" album.

The thread's up. Thanks for taking part, everyone. Now... Go and get it, people!

Well ladies and gents, it's the time of year again. The time when a group of ragtag remixers comes together and makes a Christmas album for everyone to freely grab and (hopefully) enjoy. This year, we're offering up 14 remixes of both traditional Christmas carols and video game songs, all done up to give that holiday vibe to everyone. So feel free to hop on over to the website and grab yourself a copy of An OverClocked Christmas v.XV. A big thanks goes out to Dyne for once again hosting the album, and to those who made the mixes this year. And of course, Merry Christmas from all of us involved in this project! https://williammichael.info/aocc/

File sent.

It's now Midnight and the deadline has passed. I'll be gathering everything up, tagging it and sending it to Dyne shortly.

Well, here we are. The final 24 hours. I was going to send a final PM, but most people who signed up for this have submitted something. Hell, we even had one person who didn't sign up that still submitted something. One person had to drop out due to illness (you know who you are... slacker ), which just leaves Argle... and they haven't read any of the updates sent via PM. I'm guessing that means they're no longer involved with this, so, I'll just post in here. For anyone who didn't sign up that is still working on something, you have until 11:59 P.M. EST tonight to get it done and sent to me. That is all.

Another year, another Twas. Yes, it's that time yet again, where I go off on a rhyming spree and concoct a tale of Christmasy stuff. This one's a long one... seriously. It's the longest one I've written to date. If you have to pee, do it now. And if you don't have to pee, you probably will by the time you reach the end. So get comfy and here... we... go! 'Twas XX: Head 'Em Off At The Pass by The Coop Twas two days before Christmas and throughout the hall, a small-ish group of people were enjoying all the food and atmosphere that had been set up for the big end of year party for Toby's Decor. The small hall had been rented just outside of town for the employees to have some fun and get down. The ten people who worked for one Toby McGlare, chatted and mingled as some music filled the air. Among those who had gathered was one Bert Deline, who talked with his colleagues and sipped on the cheap wine that had been provided for those in attendance; wine not too good or bad, so it straddled that fence. But as he talked to Fred, who he'd worked with awhile, Toby came up to Bert and gave Bert a big smile. “How are ya, Bert my boy?” Toby asked as he slid an arm around Bert's shoulders, and walked as he did. “I'm good,” Bert replied as he strolled with Toby. “You?” Toby said, “I'm fine, thanks. You know, I wanted to “come by and say thank you for helping make this year one that ended up being a truly top tier “stretch for my company. It couldn't have happened if it weren't for people like you, Bert my friend. “In Phoenix Arizona, we are the top place to go to when folks want to decorate their space!” “You're welcome, Toby,” Bert smiled. “And thank you as well from both myself, and of course, from my wife Michelle. “I've really enjoyed getting to come to work here. And I hope I can help do this again next year.” Toby laughed a bit and said, “Don't worry about what's to come with this place. Just enjoy this blowout.” With a pat on Bert's back, Toby walked away and spoke with someone else nearby as he shook their hand. With a big shit-eating grin, Bert walked back to Fred and took the time to repeat what Toby had said. When Michelle soon returned from her trip to the loo, Bert told her all about what Toby had said, too. But after another hour, the party wound down. Everyone said their goodbyes and drove back to town. Twas a fun night with coworkers that ended well for everyone there, including Bert and Michelle. The next morning saw Bert sleep in a little bit. But soon Michelle called out, “Get up you lazy shit!” “Yeah yeah,” Bert replied before he let out a yawn. “God forbid that I'd sleep in a little past dawn.” Michelle entered the room as he sat up in bed. She leaned down and kissed him with, “Mornin', sleepy head.” “Now you're nice to me?” he grinned as she did the same. “Get your cute butt up,” she said, “or it's you I'll blame “if we end up missing our flight this afternoon.” “We've got eight hours,” he said. “Why get ready so soon?” “Because you procrastinate,” she said as she stood, and added, “and don't give yourself the time you should.” “I'm not that bad,” he chuckled. “Uh huh,” she replied. “You couldn't be on time for something if you tried.” He repeated what she'd said in a mocking tone, making her laugh as he stood up with a small groan. The morning continued as they got dressed and ate, packed their clothes and supplies, then proceeded to wait. It was just 9 A.M., and their flight was at three. That left plenty of time to kill, which Bert took glee in pointing out as he poked fun at how Michelle sat on the sofa and looked very bored as hell. “We could still be sleeping,” he said with a large smirk. She tried to look grumpy as she grinned, “Quiet, jerk.” As the noon hour drew near, she asked Bert, “Will you see if there's any mail out there for you or for me?” He did as she'd asked and found that there was indeed a single letter there for him to get and read. He tore it open as he reentered the house and was asked “What's that, hun?” by his beloved spouse. “A note from work,” he said. “Not sure what it could be.” “A bonus check?” she put forth. He replied, “Maybe?” With the envelope opened, he began to read. As his eyes skimmed the paper, she could see how he'd looked down with some confusion, and then with dismay. When she saw this, she asked, “Honey, what does it say?” “I've been let go,” he uttered, his voice filled with dread. “Wait, what?” she asked as if she'd misheard what he'd said. “They just... fired me,” he said with much disappointment. “And after how well Toby said that the year went.” “Did they say why?” she asked as she came up beside her husband, who continued to read, teary-eyed. He said, “They say it was a performance issue.” With ire in her voice, she said “That's why they canned you?” Bert looked over at his wife and saw her vexed stare. He said, “I worked my ass off each day I was there.” “Are you sure?” she said with disbelief in her eyes. “Because I've heard that before with some of your lies.” “I did!” he exclaimed. “I swear on my mother's grave! Everyone there will tell you that I always gave “them a hand when they needed it once I had done the work I'd been given by Toby or someone. “I didn't slack off or do a shit job with what I'd been asked to do. I always worked off my butt!” “Uh huh,” she said with snark as she stared hard at him. “The chances of that being true are really slim.” “I'm not lying!” he stated, his voice filled with dread. “If I am, you can smack me right upside my head!” “Don't tempt me,” she said as she turned and walked a bit away from him and uttered, “I'm sick of this shit. “It's barely been over two years since you got hired. And now right before Christmas, you got yourself fired!” “I didn't!” he yelped. “So they lied?” she hollered back. “It's the truth!” he pleaded. “Can't you cut me some slack?” She said, “I told you that if you got fired once more for slacking off at work, that I'd walk out the door!” “Baby, please!” Bert said as he came up to her and, with an almost panicked look, took hold of her hand. She pulled her hand from his and went to their bedroom, where he could hear her as she continued to fume. She was swearing a lot, all directed at Bert. And some of what she said had clearly left him hurt. She called him a screw up. That she didn't know why she continued to stay with him or even try. It took her a minute before she came back out with her luggage in hand and said with a stern shout, “I'm going to my parents and you're staying here! You better find a new job before the new year or I'm kicking you out of my life and my place!” Her words pulled a puzzled sadness onto Bert's face. “But everything's closed for the holiday's,” Bert said. She spat, “Find a damn job or our marriage is dead!” She left the house in a huff, got into her truck, and drove off as Bert uttered a dejected, “Fuck.” Now alone in the house, Bert sat down on the couch with a forlorn expression to go with his slouch. All his emotions were reflected on his face. And it was clear that they were all over the place. “I don't believe this,” he said with confused dismay. “How'd it get to this point? Things were good yesterday. “And why'd Michelle talk like I was some kind of bum? Sure, I've screwed up before, but where'd all that come from? “Just cuz I lost one job as a parking valet when I parked a jeep and dozed off in it all day. “I was so tired and cold, and the jeep was so warm. It only happened twice, so it wasn't the norm. “And yeah, then I got fired from the diner in town. I didn't know egg shells could also be light brown. “I thought they'd all gone bad, so I threw them away. No reason to ban me from that place to this day.” Bert sat there for a bit with a sad, forlorn stare. “Guess I best see if I can find a job somewhere.” He got up from the sofa and grabbed his car keys. “Let me find something so I don't lose Michelle, please.” He went out to his car and hit the mall, where he checked in every store. From Boscov's to FYE. Not one store was in need of a new employee. They all turned him away after hearing his plea about the situation in which he was stuck. And he left the last store with a disheartened, “Fuck.” As he walked through the mall, headed for it's entrance, he spotted a section that was lined by a fence which had been painted to look like candy cane rows. And each of them was adorned by green and gold bows. Inside that colorful fence, the floor had fake snow through which a short path of golden bricks did go. They went in a straight line to a big wooden throne. And on it was Santa, who sat there all alone. When Bert looked all about, he saw no kids in line. Santa had no elves who stood at the “entrance” sign. The mall was pretty crowded, which made it seem weird to see a bored Santa just stroking his white beard. Bert stared at the odd scene for a minute before he went to the path that ran through the snowy floor. He walked down the gold road, headed for the one that then let out a rather loud yawn from where he sat. “Bored?” Bert asked to the man on the Christmasy throne. “I've never been this bored,” Santa said with a groan. “Where's everyone?” Bert asked. “Wish I knew,” Santa said. “The only one to come here in two hours is you.” Bert grinned with, “Guess ebay took some business from you.” Santa grinned as well and said, “That's probably true. “I guess kids don't need me for their holiday cheer. But what's on your Christmas list that you'd like this year?” Once Bert stood before Santa's big, fancy old chair, some sadness then began to creep into Bert's stare. “A new job would be nice,” Bert said with some dismay. “I just found out that mine's gone, earlier today. “Also, a way to convince my wife Michelle to not break up with my ass, like she's about to do.” Bert gave a saddened smile, coupled with a small shrug. “Those would do,” he added as the smile left his mug. Santa looked at Bert with a puzzled sympathy, then said, “That's a lot to ask of someone like me. “The folks I work with make toys and some clothing too. I'm not sure what kind of help I could give to you.” “Was worth a try,” Bert said with a small, unsure laugh. That was when a PA was made by the mall's staff. “The mall will close soon, folks” rang out for all to hear. “You don't have to go home, but you sure can't stay here. “You've got fifteen minutes to buy your stuff and bounce. If you're not done by then, then I'll have to announce “we're unleashing the dogs to chase you all away. Thanks for shopping with us. Enjoy your holiday.” Bert let out a small laugh and said, “Guess that's my cue. Have a good one, and sorry if I bothered you.” Without another word, Bert turned and walked away as Santa looked on as if unsure what to say. Bert returned to his car and drove back home, to where he plunked down on the couch and quietly sat there. Seconds became minutes. And as each minute passed, it saw him slowly get angrier than the last. He stewed in his juices and his stare became stern as his emotions clearly continued to churn. “I never slacked off,” he griped. “I was there each day. I don't care what that fucking letter has to say. “I worked hard moving all the furniture around, and getting it all there in one piece, safe and sound. “Toby always told me that I worked really well. Now they tell me I didn't? What the fucking hell?” He fell silent for a time as he sat alone. But soon, he continued in a still angry tone. “My life's falling apart because of that damn place. That prick had to know when he smiled right to my face and told me how I was just such a great asset. Toby knew that I'd already been fired, I bet. ” He tried to relax and calm himself for a bit. At times, he'd mill about. At others, he'd just sit and brood on what happened 'till hunger made him eat. He had a small dinner of some noddles and meat. But as he did the dishes, his frustration grew. And once he was done, he sneered, “I know what to do.” He went into the bedroom and got out a box that was made of metal and tucked under his socks. He used a small key to unlock the box's lid, then opened it up to reveal what the box hid. The black metal of the gun, while far from pristine thanks to scuff marks and scratches, still gave off a sheen. Bert took out the gun and held it for a short bit, then said, “Let's see you smile when you see this, you shit.” He took out the clip that had been stored with the gun, slid it into the weapon, and once that was done, he made sure that he had his keys and his wallet as he mumbled, “I've got me some answers to get.” He grabbed his jacket and put the gun out of sight in one of the pockets, then stepped into the night. He got into his car and pulled out his smart phone. He dug through his emails until his phone had shown him what he had looked for; an old email that showed his ex-boss' address. With that, he hit the road. It took a good half hour, but he soon pulled up to the nice two-story home that Toby did accrue. The home's lights were all on. Faint music could be heard. Bert mumbled to himself as his anger was stirred, “I lose my job and most likely lost Michelle too. While my life goes to shit, what does this fucker do? “He parties like what he did was nothing to him.” It was then that Bert chose to run with his dark whim. He got out of his small car, walked across the road, and up the driveway of his ex-boss' abode. He came up to the front door with an intent stare. But instead of knocking, Bert just simply stood there with a look on his face that mixed ire and unease. It was then that he felt a light but chilly breeze kick up from behind him which gave him a small chill. “What the-?” he said softly. “It's 60 degrees, still.” He turned and looked at the dark and clear Phoenix skies, when a small and white object moved before his eyes. What looked like a snowflake drifted toward where he stood. “60 degrees with a snowflake? This can't be good.” He watched as the snowflake meandered through the air. Soon it stopped near his face and simply hovered there. It tumbled and turned as Bert brought up a finger and reached for it where it continued to linger. As his finger closed in, the snowflake moved away. Bert looked dumbfounded and unsure of what to say. The snowflake continued to move away until it reached the edge of the house, where it became still. It hovered again as Bert kept his eyes on it. After a moment, he uttered, “What is this shit?” He began to walk over toward the snowflake that seemed as if it was waiting where it hovered at. When he got close again, it drifted to the right around the corner, which took the thing from Bert's sight. With a little urgency, he quickened his pace and peaked around the side of his ex-boss' place. He saw the snowflake continue along the wall and followed after it, like a dog would a ball. The snowflake then drifted around to the home's back. And when Bert did the same, he was taken aback. Before him was a man, dressed in Santa attire. This caused Bert to jump slightly, and made him inquire, “Who the hell are you?” as the fat man dug around in the large sack before him that sat on the ground. “I could ask you the same,” the man said just before he looked up with, “Ah! Just who I was looking for.” Bert's surprise could be seen on his face and raised brow. What looked like the mall Santa stood before him now. “What the-?” Bert said with great confusion as the man looked back down and uttered, “Help me out, if you can.” “With what?” Bert then asked as he saw the fat man dig out an outfit that didn't look overly big. “Here, put this on,” Santa said and held out the clothes. “I need a helper tonight and I don't suppose “you'd be willing to lend me a hand for a bit?” Bert said to the fat man, “This a joke or some shit?” “It's no joke,” Santa said “My helper called in sick. The kids are waiting, so please, do put that on, quick.” Bert lifted the clothes up and gave them a look-see. His face then went slack as he said, “You're shitting me.” He held light green tights and some dark green, curl-toed shoes. There was also a dark green, pointed hat to use along with a jacket that looked long enough to reach down to his knees that was the same dark green hue. And what rested on top of the seasonal clothes? Some points for his ears and a long tip for his nose. But on top of all that, was the fact he could tell that the clothes looked too small... by quite a bit, as well. “You want me to be an elf?!” Bert yelped with dismay. “That's the plan,” Santa said. “So help me out, OK?” “I didn't come here to play dress up,” Bert stated. “I know,” Santa said, “but just think of how each kid “inside of that home will smile when they look at you.” With a straight face, Bert said, “Laugh at me's what they'll do.” “Nonsense,” Santa said with a small mischievous grin. “Just go put that stuff on and then we can begin.” Bert wasn't sure what to say as he looked around for someplace he could change clothes. But none could be found. “Not to be a dick,” Bert said. “or come of as rude, but I'm not undressing right in front of you, dude.” “Just use the bush there,” Santa said and pointed to the small bush behind him. “It's big enough for you.” Bert looked past the guy. And with a puzzled stare, he looked to the bush he was sure hadn't been there. With a slight shake of his head, Bert let out a sigh as he went to the bush that was about waist high. From behind the bush, Bert mumbled, “This is deranged.” And for the elf's outfit, his street clothes were exchanged. “Dear God, this is tight!” Bert grimaced as he got dressed and felt his junk be uncomfortably compressed. Once done, he hid his clothes under the shrubbery, then stepped out into the open for all to see. “Jesus Christ,” Bert uttered as he stood and looked down at himself and his attire. “I look like a clown.” Santa chuckled a bit, then quickly cleared his throat. “More like an elf,” he said and brushed off his red coat. “Now come on, my helper. We've got kids to go see.” Bert let out a groan and grumbled, “Someone shoot me.” With a small laugh, Santa said, “You'll be just fine, son. Put on a Christmas smile and let's go have some fun.” The two of them went in through the sliding glass door and heard the party farther in on that ground floor. The chatter of children and music filled the air as they looked around and saw they were alone there. The dining room table that they stood before had already been set with fancy plates and more. “Must be their dining room,” Bert said while sounding irked. “Can't put one past you, huh?” Santa said as he smirked. With a glance at Santa, Bert looked around a bit and said, “I can't believe I'm here doing this shit.” “Why is that?” Santa asked as he looked back at Bert. “Long story,” Bert answered, his reply somewhat curt. “That so?” Santa said. “I've love to hear this long tale.” A moment later, Bert spotted Toby's wife, Gail as she slid open the dividing door that gave the dining room privacy from the would-be rave. “Dear God I hope they don't recognize me,” Bert said as he kept his voice quiet and lowered his head. “Don't worry,” Santa smiled as Gail noticed them there. “The nose will throw them off. There's no need for despair.” Gail slid the door shut and walked over to the men. “Wonderful,” she whispered. “You're all set to go then?” “We're ready,” Santa smiled. “Take us to the children.” “They'll really love this,” she smiled. “Let's go gentlemen.” Within one minute's time, Santa and Bert were in the living room surrounded by Toby's children. The adults all smiled as the kids loudly exclaimed that Santa had come with an elf that was unnamed. Santa greeted each child with a big and warm smile, as Bert kept himself out of the way for a while. He stood off to the side and kept watch on the sack that Santa had had with him when they were out back. But soon, Bert found himself pulled deep into what felt like a whirlwind of chaos that made his brain melt. Kids laughing and yelping as Santa did his best to make sure that every child there had been addressed as question after question came repeatedly from the kids who had asked them so excitedly. But Santa wasn't alone. Bert too found himself asked many a question about being an elf. What's it like at the north pole? What he did for fun during the six months when the north pole had no sun? Did his big ears get cold around all of that snow? Do they all use toilets, or an outhouse to go? What's it like wearing tights? What's up with the weird shoes? If he could play just Dark Souls, which one would he choose? What color was his blood? Did he have a girlfriend? What happens to Santa's elves when they meet their end? Where do baby elves come from and how small are they? How do the reindeer poop as they pull Santa's sleigh? These questions and much more flooded Bert as he tried to entertain the kids and fight the urge to hide. Several of the children asked why was he so tall when all the pictures they'd seen showed elves that were small? Bert told the kids that he'd had a thyroid problem as a child, and that's where his growth spurt had come from. But that led to more questions from the kids because none of them knew just what the hell a thyroid was. For an hour, Bert and Santa mingled and talk to all those who were there; the children and adults, too. At the end of that hour, Bert and Santa then got a chance to take a break... which they needed, a lot. So Toby distracted all the kids with a tale, as Bert and Santa were smuggled away by Gail into the kitchen where both men could catch their breath as Bert uttered, “I was almost questioned to death.” Santa laughed a bit with, “Kids are like that you know. Once they get talking, they'll just go and go and go.” “Especially ours,” Gail smiled. “Like a chatterbox. But for now, just stay here and let your brains detox.” “Thank you, Gail,” Santa said. “We appreciate it.” “You're welcome,” Gail replied. “I'll be back in a bit.” Once Gail left the kitchen, Bert looked to Santa with, “I don't drink, but holy shit, I could use a fifth.” “Of what?” Santa asked him. “Anything,” Bert replied. “I feel like part of my brain just crawled off and died.” “Now now, they're just kids,” Santa said with a small smile. “They calm down over time. It just takes them awhile.” Bert said nothing for a bit and rubbed his forehead. “I have a question,” he eventually said. Santa turned to face him with, “And what would that be?” Bert asked, “Why are you doing all of this to me?” “You said you needed a job,” Santa said flatly. “So I gave you a job, working right here with me.” “So you are the Santa from the mall,” Bert stated. “You got your Christmas wish,” Santa smiled. “Elated?” “I came to get answers, not this,” Bert did reply and tugged on his green jacket. “I want to know why “I was fired, when I worked my ass off for Toby. I want to know why that damn prick did this to me.” “Calm down,” Santa said, his tone firmer than it was. “You should be glad I found you when I did, because-” It was then that the sound of footsteps could be heard, which made Santa stop talking almost in mid-word. It took a few moments, but Santa and Bert found that they were joined by Toby, who was kitchen-bound. “Ev'ning, gentlemen,” Toby said as he went to the refrigerator and got himself a brew. “My wife and I really appreciate you two coming here tonight. And I know the kids do too.” “But of course,” Santa smiled. “It's my job, as it were. Giving kids Christmas cheer is always a pleasure.” “You know, speaking of jobs,” Bert chimed in with some snark as he looked to Toby with a stare that was dark. “I would like to know why you took my job from me after you thanked me for helping your company.” Santa looked to the man who'd been his helper elf. “Not now,” he said sternly. “Get a hold of yourself.” Bert looked to Santa with, “And when would the time be? After I'm homeless and Michelle's gone and left me?” “Do I know you?” Toby asked, his gaze questioning. Bert grabbed his nose's tip with, “I'm sick of this thing.” He gave the thing on his nose a good, solid tug. But it wouldn't come off, as it's fit was quite snug. “What the hell?” Bert uttered as he tried once again. He gave it a much harder tug, and that was when he felt a pain shoot through his nose as he sucked in some air through his teeth with, “Damn thing's stuck on my skin!” He then tried a third time, but the pain was intense. It made his eyes water as he became more tense. “What's going on?!” Bert exclaimed as his eyes grew wide. The tips on his ears were the next thing that he tried. He gave those ear tips he'd put on a solid yank. When they didn't come off, he yelled, “Is this a prank?!” “Calm down,” Santa stated. “No!” Bert yelled in return as his expression filled with even more concern. Bert then tried to take off the shoes that he had on, yet they wouldn't come off as he used all his brawn. He tried to remove the elven jacket he wore, and grumbled “I'm not wearing this thing anymore!” Toby watched with alarm as he saw a grown dude and the elf clothes he wore get into a big feud. Then behind all the noises Bert made as he fought, a small creek came to be, which only Santa caught. Just a moment later, a loud clang could he heard, and Bert fell to the floor like a bag full of curd. Toby's eyes got big as he watched the elf-dressed man go limply to the floor just as a frying pan hit the floor with a clunk right against the man's head. Toby looked up a bit and noticed that instead of a shut cabinet door where the pan had been, was a wide open door that hadn't kept it in. “How'd that fall out?” Toby asked rhetorically, to which, Santa shrugged with a grin and said, “Beat's me.” Gail came in quickly with, “What was all of that noise?” When she saw the knocked out man, “Care to explain, boys?” “The pan just fell out,” Toby explained, bewildered. “It and the guy hitting the floor is what you heard.” “Well, get him up off the floor,” Gail said with a sigh. “And I'll get an ice pack ready for the poor guy.” “Tell you what,” Santa said. “Why don't the two of you go out and keep everyone from coming into “the kitchen for a bit while I take care of this.” “Are you sure?” Gail asked. Santa nodded, “I am, miss.” “Alright,” Gail replied before she and Toby went and rejoined their kids with a distractive intent. Once she and Toby had left, Santa then looked down at the unconscious Bert with disheartened frown. “Sorry, son,” Santa said with his voice quieted. “Hope you won't have too big of a lump on your head.” Santa snapped his fingers and the room filled with light. Once that light had faded, Bert was nowhere in sight. Santa waited a bit, then rejoined everyone who had thrown the small party for Christmasy fun. The next morning arrived and found Bert in his bed. His head was quite sore, as was to be expected. He opened his eyes and grimaced a bit at what felt as if the back of his head had quite the knot. He could tell that it was still early morning since sunlight still came through his window, which made him wince. With a groan, he sat up and could feel his head throb. “Dear God,” he sighed. “Feels like I got mugged by a mob.” He rubbed the soar back of his head for a short time, then out from under the thick covers, he did climb. He went into the bathroom and relieved himself, then looked in the mirror and saw he was an elf. “What the hell?” he exclaimed as he started a bit, just as his memories of the night before hit. He recalled going to his old boss' home and met a mall Santa, to whom he'd given a hand. Of questions from kids that seemed to not have an end. How he'd run into Toby, who Bert did intend to confront with the way he'd been fired from his job. But that was where his memories became a blob. He focused on his reflection in the mirror while memories of the night before grew clearer. With a hint of panic, he grabbed hold of his nose and pulled off the end bit as his confusion rose. “Oh, now it comes off,” he said and stared at the bit that wouldn't let go back when he'd struggled with it. He took off the ear tips he'd worn and then did choose to remove from his feet, the dark green curl-toed shoes. Every last thing came off without any issue as he removed the jacket, hat and the tights too. He put on his bathrobe and began to look for the stuff he'd had on when he went to Toby's door. But those clothes were missing, as was the gun he took. “Bet that mall Santa kept them,” he griped. “The damn crook.” He went out into the living room and sat down on the couch with a rather noticeable frown. “That was a fucked up night,” he groaned as he reached back and rubbed the spot where something'd given him a whack. “Wish I knew what hit me on the back of my head, or how I got back home and wound up in my bed.” It took a second before he saw the off white envelope on the coffee table to his right. “Where'd this come from?” he asked as he reached over to pick it up so that he could get a better view. It's front just said “Bert” in a handwriting that he didn't know at all. He asked, “Who gave this to me? “It wasn't here when I left last night, that's for sure.” He opened it and over its text, he did pour. “Dear Bert,” it began. “I hope that you're doing well. You're back home and safe now, in case you couldn't tell. “I'm sure that you have more than a question or two about how you got home and what happened to you. “But rather than tell you how all that came to be, here is a bit of advice, courtesy of me. “The path that you wanted to head down just last night, was one that was dark and born of malice and spite. “What you went there to do would not have ended well. The result would have been you being in a cell or worse if things had taken a darker-still turn. What laid down that dark road, be glad you didn't learn. “I know you lost a lot in a short bit of time. It was a big mountain that felt too steep to climb. “Anger, pain and frustration had filled up your mind, and the path to get out seemed much too hard to find. “For as bad as it seemed, it could still have been fixed. Yet there you were, set to make sure that chance was nixed. “I know you lost your job by means that felt unfair. Your wife got angry and left, like she didn't care. “That was a lot to have dumped on you in one day. But it's no solution to throw your life away “or take someone else's in a bid to strike back at the world when it felt like it cut you no slack. “Last night, you came too close to losing any way of regaining some of what you lost yesterday. “I get you felt anger, along with great despair. That what happened had to feel so very unfair. “It was bad, what your ex-boss decided to do. It was callus, unfeeling and cold-hearted too. “But if you had done what you'd been thinking about, you'd have found yourself in a hole, with no way out. “Take this chance to learn from what nearly cost you all of your future plans, and the upcoming phone call. “Your clothes and gun are gone, so don't bother to look for them in your home. And please, don't call me a crook. “You're home despite how you'd tried to cause a ruckus. And rest assured that last night will stay between us.” A moment later, the letter he held was lit like a hundred light bulbs had turned on within it. The bright light made Bert gasp as he turned his head so he was not blinded by the letter's intense glow. With a pop, the light vanished and Bert looked at how his hands were empty, which made him cock an eyebrow. “Um, what the hell?” he muttered as his phone began to go off from his bedroom, into which he ran. He couldn't find it as it continued to ring, which prompted him to blurt out, “Where is the damn thing?” And once he found it where he kept his underwear, he grumbled, “How the hell did this thing get in there?” As he shook his head, he pressed the green button on the screen and brought the phone to his face with a yawn. “Hello?” he said as he tried to fight the yawn down . “Hi,” came a woman's voice, which made him sadly frown. He could hear how pensive her voice sounded as he uttered, “Michelle?” and she answered with, “Yeah, it's me.” His face was a mask of wariness and unease as he remained quiet, and in place, seemed to freeze. At first, neither spoke, as if unsure what to say. But in time, it was Michelle who asked, “You OK?” “Um, yeah, I am,” he answered with uncertainty, before he asked her, “So uh, why did you call me?” She said, “I wanted to talk with you this morning, before we both got busy doing anything.” “I'm still looking for a job,” he said with dismay. “I must have checked four dozen places yesterday.” “It's not about that,” she said. “I called you to see if you'd be willing or able to forgive me.” Bert looked like he didn't know how he should reply. But Michelle continued, “I didn't mean to fly “off the handle or to threaten you with divorce.” “You still want me?” he asked, and she answered, “Of course.” Bert said, “But the all things you told me, made it sound like you wanted to burn our marriage to the ground. “I was telling you the truth, but you didn't care. You just seemed to be done with me, right then and there.” “I know, and I'm sorry,” she said remorsefully. “I overreacted and it was wrong of me “to shit on you after what had happened that day. The thing is, I'm sorry's not all I need to say. “Last night, while I was lying in my bed alone, all I wanted to do was call you on the phone. “'Cuz the more I thought about the things that I'd said, the more I felt like I wasn't right in the head. “How I'd left you behind began to eat at me. It just bothered me to a serious degree. “I knew you were asleep, but still wanted to call. See how you were and apologize for it all. “But above all, to say that I really miss you.” Bert began to smile and replied, “I miss you too.” As they talked on the phone, they began to work through what had happened and how that moment went askew. She told him that tomorrow, she would book a flight, after he told her what went on Christmas Eve night. He left out the part where he'd brought along a gun, and instead focused on what had been strangely fun. The questions the kids asked, the outfit that he'd worn which made his dignity something he had to morn. He smiled as he listened to who he ' nearly lost. He thought about his life, which he had nearly tossed away with his actions due to where his mind went. Of how grateful he was for the Santa-like gent that he'd run into at Toby's the night before. And how he still had the woman he did adore. So much went so wrong in just a few minute's time. Like his life hit the brakes and just stopped on a dime. He'd gone to a bad place, filled with disdain and rage; almost brought someone's story to it's final page. But now he could see that his actions almost cost him the chance to regain what he'd felt had been lost. And as Bert and Michelle worked to make all alright, Merry Christmas to all. And to all, a good night.

You're alive! I was about to contact you this evening and see if you were still around, when I got a delayed email notification for this thread. Eventually, a sidebar would be needed (that red bar can only hold so many volumes), but I don't think it will be for this year. Save it for next year.

@Lampje4life Yep. Things are still on course for the Dec. 20 deadline.

Whatever you feel like doing. There's no issue with the same song or the same game being covered/represented twice.

It might be a heatwave in some parts of the world, but it's beginning to look a lot like Christmas in here! No, I'm not hallucinating. It's that time once again. Time to see who's interested in taking part in the annual tradition of making Christmas-type musics for people. Christmas in July has become a thing these days, and so it's during that seasonal warm up period that we kick this thing off in hopes of getting folks to provide music for the real season when it comes about in five-plus months. So... this project is open to any and all OCR members, regardless of whether you're a posted remixer or not. Want some details? Have some details... When's The Project Deadline?- December 20th, 2021 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. 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) Wassup Thunder (remixer) The Vodoú Queen (remixer) HarlemHeat360 (remixer) Souperion (remixer) Dj Mokram (remixer) colorado weeks (remixer) Argle (remixer) HoboKa (remixer)

Thanks. Yeah, nearly 20 years of this. I may have to try and come up with something special for 'Twas XX. Heh. Sure, blame it on me To all those who made their way through this 25-page beast of stanzas, hope you enjoyed it. And of course, Merry Christmas

With Christmas Eve nearly over, and Christmas Day about to hit, hope everyone enjoyed the music this year

A quick update. I messed up a little on the back cover, as the text isn't quite centered. Until Dyne updates it with the fixed version I sent him, you can grab it here...

The thread for the album is up

It's that time. Once again, some of the folks who post on OCR have come together to make an album full of Christmas-y remixes for you to enjoy. This year, we've got 10 tracks that touch on a number of genres and moods, along with some pixel cover art by yours truly. You can download the project from the link below, so feel free to grab it... along with the other 13 albums As always, thanks to everyone who participated, tried to participate, and to Dyne for continuing to host it. http://williammichael.info/aocc/aoccv14.html http://williammichael.info/aocc/