Post by Savannah Morse on Dec 16, 2016 17:57:32 GMT
All the yokels of Kalispell liked Christmas a lot
But the Morse at Monster High so did not
So one day she crept all down to their mall
To screw up their christmas once and for all
Or so she thought and thought herself real clever at that. Even if she hadn't really 'crept' to the mall but hitched a ride. And it hadn't been as sneaky as walking in through the door trying her best glare at the girl in the angel getup who was either high or way too much into vampire tv shows because she seemed to have smiled even harder for it. Weirdo homo sapiens folk.
It hadn't seemed too long ago that the time leading up to Christmas had been great, joyful, fun. All it should be. But her manifestation had opened her eyes to the commercialization of the whole thing. The time of joy was really just a time of overpriced candy and stuffed cash registers. Just like every other holiday, she soberly admitted. Halloween was no better after all. Hell, at Halloween you were supposed to give overpriced candy to kids you didn't even know and who hid their identity so you wouldn't be able to glower at them for eating your sweets the next time you saw them.
But for now, for now her target was Christmas and the mall her staging ground. So it wasn't in any way a big mall like they'd had back home. It was more like a department store where the departments had their own doors. And owners and staff and accounts and whatnot she guessed, but the basic gist was true. Like every American mall it had a guy dressed up as Santa milling about but more importantly like every place presumably everywhere at this time of year, it had a constant drone of Christmassy music seeping out of the speakers.
Speakers that were everywhere and speakers that were, most importantly, wireless. No wires, no chance of one getting damaged. You had mall-wide wifi anyway so it made sense to hook up to it whatever you could, or so the girl presumed. Like a good little terrorist, she pulled up the hood on her sweater before dodging into the comics store she'd picked in part for the view of the carnage about to unfold. Pretending to look over a shelf of painfully cutesy mangas, she instead slid her phone from a pocket and called up her playlist before enabling the Bluetooth signal.
Bluetooth was Morse's lingua franca. Wifi was vanilla, radio was crude but powerful, but Bluetooth allowed her to do almost anything. Of course, the only anything she needed right now was a steady stream of MP3 data from a phone she had access to anyway, and the second element of her fiendish plot involved blunt forcing her way into the wireless speaker's wifi hookup. Since she could actually see the pervasive wireless waves however, she could just modulate her output to the same frequency and be stronger. It would work once, then they'd put more effort into encryption. But right now she'd have her wicked way with the speakers and nobody would have a clue what was going on. It wasn't like her head had an IP address you could trace after all.
She took a moment to wish someone hurried down the chimney of whomever had come up with the infernal music squawking out of the PA system tonight, ideally without lube, then she cut the feed by overpowering local wifi. By happenstance she also overpowered the connection of everyone using the mall's wireless hookup but that was collateral damage. The tree of liberty had to be watered now and again.
There was a moment of static causing a subtle shift in the people outside the shop window. Curious how the music they barely heard (or rather its absence) affected people. But they'd get something better any moment now. Starting gently to set them up, with bells and chimes and a gentle voice...
In the distance church bells chime.
Soon it will be Christmas time.
On the fire there burns a Yuletide log.
Carollers are singing too,
Noses red and fingers blue,
Sounds of children coughing in the fog.
But there's one man who'll be working when you're tucked up in your bed,
For he has got a seasonal job; his clothes are always red.
She had to grin despite her cowardly act of asymmetrical seasonal warfare, knowing what came next.
I'm the man that slits the turkeys' throats at Christmas.
I'm the man that pulls their innards inside out.
I gather up the giblets, wrap 'em in cellophane,
And just because it's Christmas, I shove 'em back in again.
I secure their little ankles with elastic,
Then I mop up all the slime with bits of rag,
And I'm sure that it would please them,
To know before I freeze them,
I pop 'em into a little plastic bag.
Much to her dismay, the reactions Morse spied from the people walking the mall were nonexistent at worst and amused at best. Bleeding Hipsters.
Ah well, she had a song for them coming up as well, though the irony of that would probably be lost on them. What was almost more important was that she was safe in the execution of her strike from the shadows. Well, unless someone from school had an idea about her powers and-slash-or knew and recognized her. But how high was the chance of that in a shopping mall full of people?
But the Morse at Monster High so did not
So one day she crept all down to their mall
To screw up their christmas once and for all
Or so she thought and thought herself real clever at that. Even if she hadn't really 'crept' to the mall but hitched a ride. And it hadn't been as sneaky as walking in through the door trying her best glare at the girl in the angel getup who was either high or way too much into vampire tv shows because she seemed to have smiled even harder for it. Weirdo homo sapiens folk.
It hadn't seemed too long ago that the time leading up to Christmas had been great, joyful, fun. All it should be. But her manifestation had opened her eyes to the commercialization of the whole thing. The time of joy was really just a time of overpriced candy and stuffed cash registers. Just like every other holiday, she soberly admitted. Halloween was no better after all. Hell, at Halloween you were supposed to give overpriced candy to kids you didn't even know and who hid their identity so you wouldn't be able to glower at them for eating your sweets the next time you saw them.
But for now, for now her target was Christmas and the mall her staging ground. So it wasn't in any way a big mall like they'd had back home. It was more like a department store where the departments had their own doors. And owners and staff and accounts and whatnot she guessed, but the basic gist was true. Like every American mall it had a guy dressed up as Santa milling about but more importantly like every place presumably everywhere at this time of year, it had a constant drone of Christmassy music seeping out of the speakers.
Speakers that were everywhere and speakers that were, most importantly, wireless. No wires, no chance of one getting damaged. You had mall-wide wifi anyway so it made sense to hook up to it whatever you could, or so the girl presumed. Like a good little terrorist, she pulled up the hood on her sweater before dodging into the comics store she'd picked in part for the view of the carnage about to unfold. Pretending to look over a shelf of painfully cutesy mangas, she instead slid her phone from a pocket and called up her playlist before enabling the Bluetooth signal.
Bluetooth was Morse's lingua franca. Wifi was vanilla, radio was crude but powerful, but Bluetooth allowed her to do almost anything. Of course, the only anything she needed right now was a steady stream of MP3 data from a phone she had access to anyway, and the second element of her fiendish plot involved blunt forcing her way into the wireless speaker's wifi hookup. Since she could actually see the pervasive wireless waves however, she could just modulate her output to the same frequency and be stronger. It would work once, then they'd put more effort into encryption. But right now she'd have her wicked way with the speakers and nobody would have a clue what was going on. It wasn't like her head had an IP address you could trace after all.
She took a moment to wish someone hurried down the chimney of whomever had come up with the infernal music squawking out of the PA system tonight, ideally without lube, then she cut the feed by overpowering local wifi. By happenstance she also overpowered the connection of everyone using the mall's wireless hookup but that was collateral damage. The tree of liberty had to be watered now and again.
There was a moment of static causing a subtle shift in the people outside the shop window. Curious how the music they barely heard (or rather its absence) affected people. But they'd get something better any moment now. Starting gently to set them up, with bells and chimes and a gentle voice...
In the distance church bells chime.
Soon it will be Christmas time.
On the fire there burns a Yuletide log.
Carollers are singing too,
Noses red and fingers blue,
Sounds of children coughing in the fog.
But there's one man who'll be working when you're tucked up in your bed,
For he has got a seasonal job; his clothes are always red.
She had to grin despite her cowardly act of asymmetrical seasonal warfare, knowing what came next.
I'm the man that slits the turkeys' throats at Christmas.
I'm the man that pulls their innards inside out.
I gather up the giblets, wrap 'em in cellophane,
And just because it's Christmas, I shove 'em back in again.
I secure their little ankles with elastic,
Then I mop up all the slime with bits of rag,
And I'm sure that it would please them,
To know before I freeze them,
I pop 'em into a little plastic bag.
Much to her dismay, the reactions Morse spied from the people walking the mall were nonexistent at worst and amused at best. Bleeding Hipsters.
Ah well, she had a song for them coming up as well, though the irony of that would probably be lost on them. What was almost more important was that she was safe in the execution of her strike from the shadows. Well, unless someone from school had an idea about her powers and-slash-or knew and recognized her. But how high was the chance of that in a shopping mall full of people?
