Sunday, December 19, 2010

A Fringe Christmas

Now that the nights are cold and long, Agnes and I watch more television than we usually do. Well, yes, we do other things, too, but watching TV is all I'll discuss here. We have a few favorite shows, and one of mine is Fringe - the weird science fiction drama about parallel universes and bizarre happenings and Observers and ... well ... all sorts of stuff out there on the fringes of reality. I keep waiting for them to do an episode about Congress, but I suppose there's only so much unreality that a show can address and still be believable.

But anyhow, I thought it might be interesting to tune in an episode of Fringe and see how the leading characters - Peter Bishop and Olivia Dunham - might look at the holiday season ...

A Fringe Christmas
Or
Who Knows If You've Been Bad or Good...?

Peter: We’re too late. It’s already been here.

Olivia: Peter, I hope you know what you’re doing…

Peter: Look, Olivia, just like the other homes: a Douglas fir, truncated, mounted, transformed into some sort of shrine; halls decked with boughs of holly; stockings hung by the chimney, with care.

Olivia: You really think someone’s been here?

Peter: Someone. Or something.

Olivia: Peter, over here - it’s a ... a fruitcake!

Peter: Don’t touch it! Those things can be lethal!

Olivia: It’s OK. There’s a note attached: “Gonna find out who’s naughty and nice.”

Peter: It’s judging them, Olivia. It’s making a list.

Olivia: Who? What are you talking about?

Peter: Ancient mythology tells of an obese humanoid entity who could travel at great speed in a craft powered by antlered servants. Once each year, near the winter solstice, this creature is said to descend from the heavens to reward its followers and punish disbelievers with jagged chunks of anthracite.

Olivia: But that’s legend, Peter—a story told by parents to frighten children. Surely you don’t believe it?

Peter: Something was here tonight, Olivia. Check out the bite marks on this gingerbread man. Whatever tore through this plate of cookies was massive … and in a hurry.

Olivia: It left crumbs everywhere. And look, Peter, this milk glass has been completely drained.

Peter: It gorged itself, Olivia. It fed without remorse.

Olivia: But why would they leave it milk and cookies?

Peter: Appeasement. Tonight is The Eve, and nothing can stop its wilding.

Olivia: But if this thing does exist, how did it get in? The doors and windows were locked. There’s no sign of forced entry.

Peter: Unless I miss my guess, it came through the fireplace.

Olivia: Wait a minute, Peter. If you're saying some huge creature landed on the roof and came down the chimney, you’re crazy. The flue is barely six inches wide! Nothing could get through there.

Peter: But what if it could alter its shape…move in all directions?

Olivia: You mean, like a bowl full of jelly?

Peter: Exactly, Olivia! I’ve never told anyone this, but when I was a child, my home was visited. I saw the creature. It had long white strips of fur surrounding its ruddy, misshapen head. Its bloated torso was red and white. I’ll never forget the horror. I turned away, and when I looked back it had somehow taken on the facial features of my father!

Olivia: That's impossible!

Peter: I know what I saw, Olivia. And that night, it read my mind. It brought me a Mr Potato Head, Olivia. It knew I wanted a Mr Potato Head!

Olivia: I’m sorry, Peter, but you’re asking me to disregard the laws of physics. You want me to believe in some supernatural being who soars across the skies and brings gifts to good little girls and boys? Listen to what you’re saying. Do you understand the repercussions? If this gets out, they’ll close the Fringe Division!

Peter: Olivia, listen to me! It knows when you are sleeping. It knows when you’re awake.

Olivia: But we have no proof!

Peter: Last year, on this exact date, SETI radiotelescopes detected bogies in the airspace over twenty-seven states. The White House ordered a Condition Red.

Olivia: But that was a meteor shower!

Peter: Yes ... officially. But then two days ago, eight prized Scandinavian reindeer vanished from the National Zoo in Washington, DC. Nobody - not even the zookeeper - was told about it. The government doesn’t want people to know about Project Kringle. They fear that if this thing is proved to exist, then the public would stop spending half its annual income in a holiday shopping frenzy. Retail markets will collapse. Olivia, they can not let the world believe this creature lives. They’ll do whatever it takes to ensure another silent night!

Olivia: Peter, I…

Peter: Shhhhhhh! Do you hear what I hear?

Olivia: On the roof. It sounds like … like a clatter!

Peter: The truth is up there, Olivia! Let’s see what’s the matter...

What will they find? And what will you, Dear Readers, find when you come down the stairs on Christmas morning...?

It isn't just the NSA that knows if you've been bad or good, and the TSA that keeps lists of those who are naughty and nice, and the CIA that sends drones after those who have been really bad.

Don't ask ...

Don't tell ...

And watch the skies this Christmas ...

Have a good day. Someone is watching.

More thoughts tomorrow.

Bilbo


3 comments:

John said...

Very nice, Mr Creativity!

Mike said...

I think that fruit cake needs to be in an amber quarantine zone.

KathyA said...

We need to get you some board games! :)