Archive of Our Own ^beta

'Mummy, tell us about when you met Santa, please?'

'You don't want to hear that again do you?'

'YES! Pleeeeze, puhleeze!'

'OK, OK calm down. Alright, many years ago when I was a little girl, and your aunts and I lived at home with Gran and Papa, I didn't go to sleep on Christmas Eve. You know how you have to go to sleep early so Santa comes faster? And how if you sneak around to see him he won't come?'

*wide eyed nods*

'Well I decided I wanted to see Santa, so I sneaked out of my room and hid near the Christmas tree. Since it was past my bedtime I got tired and fell asleep behind the couch. The noise that woke me sounded like big heavy boots clomping around on the roof, and then some strange voices coming from the pot belly stove. You remember the pot belly stove at Gran and Papa's house? It's pretty small isn't it? Well, you should have seen what came out of that little stove...'

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'...swift and silent, my bleep. Those bleep-heads are louder than Trombley's bleeping snoring, homes. Bleep! what the bleep are you doing?'

'Ray. Get your bleeping whiskey tango hands off my bleeping bleep before I remove them at the wrist, insert them in your ears to look like bleeping antlers, then bend your legs back behind your bleeping ears and use you as a hood ornament.'

'........'

'Thank you.'

'Dude, that was your bleep? Bleep, I thought it was your bleeping knee! Bleep, I thought Jews cut bits off when you're a baby not add bleep on! How did you...'

'Ray.'

'..get so bleeping big? That is cosmically unfair you...'

'Ray.'

'...get to be all tall and bleep, now you gotta bleeping blessed with a bleep like a firehose? I mean, I got game but if I had that bleeping bleep? The ladies would...'

'RAY!'

'...be all over that bleep like a bleeping bleeper.....What?'

'Ray, focus. We need to find the egress and complete our mission. If we fail to achieve our timeline because you couldn't shut your bleeping mouth. The Airforce and the Army will win and then you know what will happen?'

'You'll kill me in brutal and creative ways?'

'Yes, but not before every Marine that ever served dies of shame. We don't want that do we Ray?'

'Nope, that would suck. OK, we egress here, the target is two point two metres from the insertion point. And may I just add our patrol zone rocks? Bleeping Australia at Christmas? That's bleeping awesome, I heard that some poor bleeping Army Ranger bleep-tards got Russia. Russia! I hope they got some kind of anti-fire magic bleep because those bleeps are gonna be pretty bleeping toasty once they've entered through some bleeping jolly roaring fireplaces.'

'This is true, Ray. If we have time left at the end we can petition the LT to let us go surfing. OK, we are Oscar Mike.'

'Cool. I like this one, they put out decent fruit cake at least. I'm bleeping sick of bleeping milk though...urk gurble... BLEEP! WHAT THE BLEEP IS THIS BLEEP?'

'Ray, keep your bleeping voice down. If those bleeping elf uppers keep you acting like this much longer I will sprinkle you with that bleeping fairy dust and make you pull the vehicle with the others.'

'No, I'm cool homes, its just this bleeping milk, it's all spoiled and bleep. Plus this bleeping is getting on my nerves.'

'Ray, it's soy milk, not spoiled. And the bleeping is annoying but do you really think the usual Marine vocabulary would be appropriate for this mission? No, hence the magical editing. Now get out the sack and I'll check the list.'

'Why can't I check the list?'

'Because it's my laptop.'

'Well, I have to carry the bleeping thing so I think I should be allowed to bleeping look at it once in a while.'

'No, Ray. It's SOP that Santa reads the list and the elf handles the sack. Now do your bleeping job.'

'Fine. Hey this is some cool bleep these kids are getting. I think Rudy would like this set.'

'Ray, that's for girls. Wait, I see your point, he's a little sparkly at the moment isn't he?'

'Sparkly as a mardi gras parade float. Good thing he's at the front so his bling can light the way.'

'Objective is complete. We are Oscar Mike.'

'Roger that big fella. Bleep, we have movement at my four o'clock.'

'Bleep. I'll handle this. You begin our withdrawal.'

'You sure, homes? You're not exactly kid friendly.'

Ray, I'm bleeping Santa, how much more kid friendly could I be?'

'I'm just sayin' try not to make it cry. That would bleeping suck.'

'Ray, bleep off.'

'Hey kid, don't let Santa scare you, he's just grumpy because we don't seem to have any MILF's on our patro-MPFH MFH MFFLE'

'Ignore him please. What are you doing out of bed little girl?'

'I wanna see Santa. You're not Santa. What's a milf? Is that like an elf ?, because you have one already. He's pretty funny. Where is the real Santa? Whats a marine? Marine means ocean doesn't it? Are there ocean Santa's?'

'Ray, I think we may have found one of your relatives.'

'MPFFF BLEEP MPFPH'

'OK kid, here's the deal. I tell you whats going on as long as you promise not to violate OpSec...'

'MURPFLE!'

'...I mean, tell anyone the truth. As far as anyone else knows the normal Santa is operating according to his regular MOS, umm, regular responsibilities. Promise?'

*nodnodnod*

'Right. Santa had to take a break this year. They didn't tell us why, we just got orders to take over part of his route and complete our objective. In the infinite wisdom of whoever made this deal with the lazy obese bleeper, the entire route was not tasked to the Marines which would mean a swift and efficient completion of the mission. Instead, the apparent meaning of the season being giving and sharing and some other bleeping hippie bleep sucking bleeping bleep, they decided to assign a part each to the Airforce, Army and Navy a well and consider it a friendly competition. Marines don't do friendly, kid. Remember that. We are on task and on time and we will kick the bleeping bleeps of those crybaby bleeping bleepers so badly that next year the entire AO will be run by the Corps as God and the Commandant intended. Now, I will teach you a Christmas saying and then you will return to your room.'

'Okay mister.'

'If you don't I will ensure that you never again receive a single gift. Not even a bad one. Understood?'

'Yes Sir.'

'Don't call me Sir, I work for a living. OK, listen close, I'm not going to repeat myself...'

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'...and when they took off I could hear Santa saying 'Double time Devil Dogs!' and that's why you should stay in bed tonight and not go sneaking around. The End.'

'Mummy, can you put my picture out? I drew it before bed and I forgot.'

'Sure thing sweetie. Now go to sleep and will be Christmas in the morning.'

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The mother went downstairs and tucked the hand drawn picture under the glass of whiskey.

Childish lettering spelled out "To Iceman and his pal Ray-Ray' above a lovingly detailed armoured sleigh. It had tank tracks instead of runners, spikes on the sides and an elf perched on the back with a machine gun that was bigger than he was. Pulling the sleigh were twelve mean looking, red eyed dogs wearing combat boots, led by a sparkly dog with "RUDY" written on his collar.

Inside the sleigh was an elf with a shaved head. He had the reins in one hand and a cigar in another and his feet up on the edge of the sleigh. Behind him sat a tall pale Santa, who on closer inspection, seemed to be rolling his eyes at his assistant sitting beside him. The short dark haired elf had big sunglasses and his hands were sticking out like he was waving his arms crazily.

The mother grinned unseeingly at the blinking lights on the tree then tipped her head back and recited with the ease of familiarity towards the ceiling;

'Merry bleeping Christmas to all, and to all a good night. Now go to bleeping sleep or we'll never bleeping achieve our bleeping objective.'

She closed her eyes and finished with a solemn, 'Stay Frosty'.

Tradition satisfied, she climbed the stairs and went to bed as ordered.