“Oh…okay. Do they get to eat? Because to me it sounds like the person in that role would eat a lot. Especially sweets. Anything honey, though would prefer not sucking them from bear brains…but really, I will if I have to. Oh, and they get to wear a cape, right?” He tugged on the black underwear circling his neck, leaping up with Pam in his arms, darting around, the cape flapping after him. “Super Ghost of Christmas Present! Da-ta-da! I run around sucking on sweet honey tits, and protecting the land of honey! Super Sprig and Pam to the rescue! And Matty can come too! Ahhhhhh!” The monkey sprite suddenly stopped, tipped over, and passed out cold.
“Is he dead?” Opie gaped at the monkey-sprite. “I don’t have time to recast!”
Chirp!
“True. I guess he does fit the role even better now.”
“Only brain dead.” Grimmel clicked his beak as a heavy snore came out of Sprig.
“He’s narcoleptic,” Simmons said. “He does this a lot.”
“O-kay. This will be very interesting,” Opie mumbled, continuing down the list. “The Viking sounds like a perfect Scrooge. Therefore, the Legend will have the role as Ghost of Christmas Future. He’s the scariest of them all and will be a good representation of death.”
“Are you kidding?” Cal snorted, halting his non-existent snow angels. “Dwellers used to be assassins in the Otherworld. They’d be better.”
“And our guy came back from the dead! He is death!” Opie waved his hand. “Our death trumps your death. Warwick is Ghost of Christmas Future.” He tapped on his lip. “Though Death has hell hounds, right? Oh yes, that would be perfect. Ones with sexy, studded collars.”
“Technically, the Ghost of Christmas Future wasn’t death, therefore he wouldn’t have hell hounds.” Simmons crossed his arms. “Nor was there any in the story.”
Chirp! Bitzy flipped off Simmons.
“Exactly.”
“What did she say?”
“Stop being a Viking,” Opie muttered. “I’m taking creative license. GCP will have two hell hounds.”
“Let me get this straight…you are casting the Dragen brothers as this guy’s pet dogs? And they will have collars and leashes?” Cal let a howl of laughter, his head nodding “I love this play already.”
“Oh no, Master Eli and Master Lorcan would not approve.” Simmons wrung his hands.
“Too bad, Tiny Tim. They are now cast.” Opie scribbled on his page. “Now on to costumes. I was thinking of going a little more avant-garde. Like Future could be in black leather booty shorts, and nothing else…bare chested with only chains, and whips crossing his ripped torso.” Opie fanned himself. “We’ll have to make extra room for his gigantic magic wand, but I think this will catch the audience’s attention.”
Chirp!
“You are so right! We’ll need to get the first and maybe second rows helmets and padding.” Opie wrote down this note on his clipboard. “Now onto rehearsals.” Opie peered up, looking around at the room.
“Grimmel has no time for those who bear no light inside.” He huffed, flapped his wings, and took off.
“Wait, we aren’t done!” Opie waved him to come back, but the raven was long gone. “All right…I suppose you must have the whole day. Be here all the earlier next morning.” He quoted from the play,
Chirp!
“I thought it was funny.”
“The rest of us ready to rehearse?” Opie turned back to the room. The monkey snored from one side, Cal was passed out on the other, and Simmons fiddled with a wing that got bent during his crash. “Guess, we’ll pick this up until tomorrow then?” Opie’s shoulders deflated when no one responded.
Chirp!
“Ohhhh!” Opie’s eyes widened, twisting to look at Bitzy. “Yes, let’s do that. Costumes always set the tone of the play and get everyone in character.”
Bitzy yanked a tape measure out of the pack she was in, her middle finger circling the air.
“Hopefully the Big man is sleeping, so he’ll never notice us getting his measurements for the booty shorts…or should it be a leather thong?”
Chirp! Chirp! Chirp!
“Thong it is.”
My lids shot open, my body heaving up with gulps of air, my eyes darting around, sure I still felt knobby fingers running across my dick. Whipping up the cover, there was nothing there except the naked body next to mine.
“What?” Kovacs was startled awake next to me. “What’s wrong?”
Staring out into the dark room, the wisps of the dream dancing through my mind.
“I just had the worst fucking dream.” I blew out, falling back onto my pillow. “Your pets were measuring me for a leather thong…for some holiday morality play.”
“Yeah, nothing says morals like a leather thong,” she snorted. “Plus, you? Morals? Good luck with that.” Her body curled into mine, drifting back to sleep.
Shifting to get closer to her, my fingers touched something on the bedspread. Lifting my head, I peered down at the tiny object.
A tape measure…
“You two are so fucking dead when I find you.” I growled out into the dark room.
Chirp!
“Couldn’t agree more,” Opie whispered from somewhere in the darkness. “He’s a total Bah Humbug.”
Chirp! Chirp!
It was time to make an imp and brownie into figgy pudding.
About the Author
USA Today Best Selling Author, Stacey Marie Brown, is a lover of hot fictional bad boys and sarcastic heroines who kick butt. She also enjoys books, travel, TV shows, hiking, writing, design, and archery. Stacey swears she is part gypsy, being lucky enough to live and travel all over the world.
She grew up in Northern California, where she ran around on her family’s farm, raising animals, riding horses, playing flashlight tag, and turning hay bales into cool forts.
When she’s not writing, she’s out hiking, spending time with friends, and traveling. She also volunteers helping animals and is eco-friendly. She feels all animals, people, and the environment should be treated kindly.