And here is my contribution! If you're interested, day 11 of the Happy Hour christmas specials will be a narrated version by the regular crew (and Nairbons!)
HAPPY HOUR CHRISTMAS STORY 2020 - BICRO’S BIZARRE ADVENTURE
HAPPY HOUR CHRISTMAS STORY 2020 - BICRO’S BIZARRE ADVENTURE
Bing Crosby spat blood onto the hard stone at his feet. Steam rose from it in the chilly winter air, adding to the wet on his face from the sweat. He knew they shouldn’t have come this far into the mountains of Vermont at this time of year, the snow was already far too deep, but their foe’s actions had made it unavoidable. The bastard had killed Dean back in Memphis, and after that there was no going back. Bing looked up to see Elvis Presley standing twenty meters up the rocky slope, his stand Blue Christmas at his side. The smug look the so-called ‘king’ wore was evident, even from behind his ridiculous shades.
“Best stay down there on the ground you little ankle biter”, said Elvis, “ol’ Mr. Martin made the mistake of getting up, but Winter Wonderland was no match for my Blue Christmas!”
Bing brought a knee up, finding his footing just in case he needed to get out of there quick-like. The much younger Presley may have had youth on his side, but Bing could still move when he needed to. If push really came to shove, he could still use White Christmas to slow Elvis down. That trick had already worked once, but Bing wasn’t sure if it would again.
Bing wince as he tested his twisted ankle, “my apologies pal, but that’s not going to happen”. The elder phraser pushed himself to his feet, “I can’t let what you did to Dean slide, and neither can the rest of us!”
Elvis laughed, “you old fool! I have McCartney and Buble dealing with Starr and King Cole as we speak! And that hamon user Kaye you insisted on bringing along is half dead in a stream! What hope do you have?!”
Bing rose back to his feet with the aid of White Christmas, “it doesn’t matter if I have hope or not Presley!” Crosby broke out into a sprint, pushing his ankle to the limit. He just needed to close the gap between the two of them. As long as he got within White Christmas’s striking distance of five meters he would be able to land a hit. Danny had already slowed Elvis down with his hamon. With the King’s burgeoning vampiric powers temporarily subdued, he was only as powerful as a regular human. As long as that remained true, then Bing could still win!
Elvis’s smug expression hadn’t changed, but it was about to. “White Christmas!” Screamed Bing. The stand emerged at his back, and slammed its palms together, they were within range now. At once the temperature dropped dramatically for anything within a five meter radius of the stand with the exception of Bing, “it’s over Presley!” Bing kept moving forward, but before his punch could land, a massive force smashed into his chest. Blood and buttons from Bing’s cardigan flew through the frosty night air as Bing sailed back down the mountainside.
Elvis laughed as he watched Bing fly backwards, “ain’t that a bite Bing? My Blue Christmas can move at near relativistic speeds! From your perspective, you get hit by its attacks five seconds before you even see it move! Blue Christmas’s speed warps time and space itself! You literally can’t see it coming!”
Bing hit the ground. He bounced along, carried by gravity, until finally coming to rest against a fur tree which teetered over the edge of a half frozen stream. After a life as a singer and movie star, this wasn’t how Bing had seen his life coming to an end. He put a hand to the open wound on his chest where Blue Christmas’s knuckles had torn into his flesh. The blood was already freezing to his fingertips, and was binding his chest hair into a matted mess.
“Dean, Kay, Nat, Danny, I don’t think I’m going to be able to pull this one off. You’re going to have to push forward in my stead.”
Just then, a hand clasped around Bing’s bicep, “don’t be like that Bing. What would the general say if you had told him that back in France?”
“Danny!” shouted Bing. He found the energy to turn and pull his old friend Danny Kaye up to the same level as himself. “I thought that attack from Blue Christmas had gotten you Danny! Are you alright you ol’ papershaker?”
“Ah…” said Danny, nodding down at his abdomen where Bing saw an open wound where the actor’s guts were spilling out. “I er...well I don’t think I’m going to make it ol’ buddy. My hamon breathing has kept me alive a little longer, but… but it can’t make me immortal. And unless you have one of those masks like Elvis found back in Tennessee, then well… well I’m a goner.”
Bing shook his head, “don’t tell me that Danny! You’re going to make it through this! We’re all going to make it through this!”
Danny attempted a nervous laugh, it was his way to lighten the mood, but it was clear by now to everyone that he wasn’t long for this world, “now don’t get all sappy on me buddy. I have one last gift to… to give you, as your friend.”
Danny breathed in deep, letting his lungs fill with all the energy they could take. He pressed a hand against Bing’s chest, and Bing felt the hamon energy flowing into his body. It was bright and warm, like sunlight. But there was an unsaid cost that Danny was paying. Bing knew it, so even while Danny’s warmth spread throughout his body, Bing pleaded with his old friend to stop, “dammit it Kaye! It’s not worth it. Don’t give up your life just to save mine!”
Danny shook his head, “it’s okay Bing. You and I both know that right now you’re the only one who has a chance to stop Elvis. So…” The flow of energy ceased, “you get in there… and you… send that bastard to hell…”
Danny’s eyes closed, and Bing yelled at him as he felt his friend’s heart slow to a stop, “Danny! Danny! Wake up Danny!” Tears dripped from Bing’s face onto Danny’s, but there was nothing he could do. One of his oldest friends lay dead on the frozen Vermont ground, and although he had given his life willingly, Bing knew that the one to blame was the king himself, Elvis Presley.
Revitalized, Bing rose to his feet and started his way up the steep slope, “Elvis! Elvis!! EEEEELLLLLVVIIIIISSSS!” he roared, only to be met with an approaching laughter.
Elvis was gyrating as he descended the mountainside, “looks like ol’ Kaye has paid the ultimate price for messing with the King!” He thrusted his pelvis in the direction of Danny’s body, “but don’t feel sad Crosby, I’m still around to play with you! Blue Christmas!”
Bing knew what was coming, and he yelled in response, “White Christmas!”
Except this time, Bing felt no impact. Instead when five seconds had passed and Blue Christmas rushed forward, it stopped in mid-air, unable to move forward even a single centimeter.
“What the in sam-hill!” Cried Elvis. His stand was completely frozen, unable to even move backwards.
Bing shouted, “it’s all thanks to Danny! Normally, White Christmas can only chill a five meter radius down to negative one-hundred degrees celsius, but with the boost I’m getting from Danny’s hamon, it can cool that same area down to absolute zero! At that point, even time stops! Your Blue Christmas can’t blue-shift through frozen time, which means you can no longer touch me, Presley!”
“No!” screamed Elvis, but it was too late. Bing and White Christmas had advanced past Blue Christmas, and Elvis entered the invisible radius around Bing. Bing raised his fist, and began hammering into Elvis’s face. Trees around the singers burst into shards from the extreme cold, and Elvis began to freeze solid as Bing pummeled him, “Surrender! Surrender! Surrender! Surrender! Surrender! Surrender! Surrender! Surrender! Surrender! Surrender! Surrender! Surrender! Surrender!”
With one final uppercut to the jaw, White Christmas shattered Elvis into uncountable pieces. At the same time, Bing felt the boost he had received from Danny disappear, and he collapsed onto the snowy ground. Breathing deep, Bing thought of the friends he had lost to the bastardly Elvis. He thought of Kay Star and Nat King Cole, who unbeknownst to him had already vanquished Paul McCartney and Michael Buble, and were making their way up the mountain to assist him. Bing would alway miss his friends, but at least now Dean and Danny could rest easy knowing that what was left of Elvis would burn to cinders in the morning sun.
The cold air stinging his lungs, Bing whispered, “you never contributed a damn thing to music, Presley…” before passing out in the cold embrace of the Vermont winter.