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Christmas, known as the most wonderful time of the year, when people visit their families and friends, enjoy and spread the holiday cheer while parts of the world are embraced by cold, frosty weather (often a misfortune to those who have to shovel the snow), had finally made its way to the United States.
One person - rather, puppet - seemed to lack emotions during this time: Pigsaw. Before, he would try to feel like everybody else, yet this year was... odd to him. Neutral. Maybe the disasters around the world had gotten to him? Not exactly, one would say he even had a sadistic satisfaction for some of them. Did he finally feel like the Grinch who wanted to steal Christmas? Also no. But that's an idea for another time.
His henchman Pigface, on the other hand, was more optimistic. He'd decorated the tree, tidied up the castle, and even cooked up a small feast for the two of them. Good for him, he might get a raise this year, the puppet thought. The pig had risked a lot to capture the victims for his master's games, something he himself wouldn't dare try, despite having the most advanced technology in his arsenal.
On Christmas Eve, as they sat by the table and ate dinner, Pigface took notice of Pigsaw's numbness. Neither of them spoke at first, until the master asked him, "Planning to go anywhere for Christmas?" He wasn't good at small talk, let alone talking in general, and when he was, it still often went awkwardly, but with confidence.
"Nah, I think I'll stay here. But what are we gonna do these next couple of days?" Pigsaw wasn't sure.
"Nothing comes to mind, maybe we could fly to California, check out those festivals in San Diego?"
Pigface almost immediately responded, "That sounds fun! We'll just have to disguise ourselves, again." Frankly, he’d grown sick of having to hide himself from the public.
Pigsaw nodded in return. "I'll take care of it," he grinned. “The private jet's been repaired, too. I'll ask Hugo to take us there.’’
For some reason, Pigface wasn't convinced his master wanted to go at all, given the tone of his answers. "But do you even wanna go?" A pause. Pigsaw took a deep breath, and simply shrugged.
"Look, you don't have to go if you don't wanna," Pigface almost felt guilty for wanting to spend time with him, "I can go myself, maybe call a few friends and see where that goes."
"It's not that, I'm just... not feeling it this year as much. Maybe I’m starting to have feelings, but instead of love, it’s depression," he scoffed, looking down at his now empty plate. "I think I'll just stay in bed, plot another maze. A few Hollywood actors were next on the list…" He then looked back up at Pigface, and then guilt settled in - well, kind of. "Sorry, didn't want to ruin your mood with... whatever this was. I’ll go if you go."
"It's fine, boss, I get it," he smiled at him softly. After a moment, his eyes lit up. “What if you think of something that could be fun for you this Christmas? You're an engineer, a mad scientist, you might figure something out!"
That’s right, he is a scientist, and can always cook up something wild; just look at his previous games! Thrilling, fun, full of challenges, and his victims were alive in the end! "Perhaps, but… What else is there, Pigface? I’ve used - if not overused - a lot of tactics before,” he gestured with his hands.
Pigface couldn’t help but agree the allies and traps he used for every victim was getting repetitive (he wouldn’t dare say it out loud), so now it was his turn to help. And so the gears in his head began to turn.
“…Do you remember those, er, what were they called,” he had the name on the tip of his tongue, “y’know, those creepy ass smiley elves? The ones that terrify kids?”
“Elves on the shelves?” He nodded. “What about them?”
Pigface was trying to explain it the best way possible, “What if, you create some kinda elf on the shelf robot, control it and break into some kid’s house, mess with them and flee before the parents start believing them?”
Pigsaw was liking those odds. He wasn’t going to do it alone, though, and his henchman needed rest. So who was willing to join him? The Mazniac team? As if they didn’t loathe his guts enough. That red-haired “detective”? He’d probably already forgotten who he is. Which leads the puppet to…
—
OBAMA RESIDENCE
DEC 25, 2:20 AM
Barack slept snug as a bug under thick sheets, in his pajamas. A tiring day of wrapping gifts for the family, helping Michelle in the kitchen, and running errands at the Foundation. Nothing could ruin this for him.
Well, about that…
While sound asleep, his body along with the duvet was slowly being teleported to Pigsaw’s castle, specifically on his bed. The puppet laid down, facing Obama very closely. The other man began stirring, sensing something off. He opened his eyes.
“Boo.”
That was enough to nearly give a man a heart attack, especially with those red, glowing eyes of his. Barack jumped back and fell off the bed, shrieking.
A loud “What the hell, man?!” followed after a series of ragged breaths. “Are you trying to kill me?!” Instead of an apology, he got a hysterical laughing fit from the puppet. Unfunny and painful, Obama thought, because his ass hit the ground pretty hard.
Pigsaw finally calmed down, and looked down at his nemesis, offering his hand. “Relax, I barely did anything,” he said in an innocent voice. “I summoned you here, because… I need you.”
What..? Romantically, or some other cruel way? Both cases would mean doom. Obama looked at the man, eyebrows knit together. “You need help.”
“Nah, I’m more fun that way - you love me like this. Anyway, not in the way you’d think.” He had considered trying with a romantic goal, maybe another day. “I want you to come with me, scare some kids as we control elves on the—” He abruptly paused for five seconds. “Wait, actually. I have a better idea, come with me.” He yanked Barack by the arm, swiftly and almost effortlessly dragging him to the lab. He’d be lying if he said the guy didn’t look cute with those pajamas.
“Ow. Ow. Ow,” he hit his bum on a door curb, then another, and another. So much for a good night’s sleep.
Finally, they reached the lab, Pigsaw let go of his arm, and rushed to the computer, typing in code to activate a certain machine.
Before the bruised man could register the events unfolding, he was dragged once more inside a glass door with Pigsaw right before it closed.
Colors flashed on the computer screen, smoke surrounding the two. One of them could feel slight pain during the process, but nothing too worrying. Hopefully.
The door then opened, signaling the procedure was a success. Pigsaw stepped out first, glancing at his arms, legs, and the rest through a mirror. His body felt… lighter.
“I can’t believe it worked…” he whispered to himself. “Barack, you can come out now!”
And he did, hesitantly.
Oh, God…
They’ve become elves on the shelves! The puppet had finally lost it. He was starting to freak out. “Pigsaw, what… What is this? Why is this—?”
“Ah, relax, It’s not that bad,” he said while checking himself out. A plastic, sly-smiled face, cotton body, elf hat on top… Adorable. Obama tried to process what had happened just now.
“Am I stuck like this forever???” Panic set in. “Change me back, now!” He yelled.
Pigsaw held Barack by the shoulders, but he pushed the other away. Then the puppet held him by the wrists. “Calm down! We’ll change back after this!” After what, after he’s put through another unnecessary game?! “I haven’t even told you my plan yet! Well, it’s not exactly my plan, but still.”
“What are you on about? You teleport me to your home, drag me to some elf-on-the-shelf machine, and you want me to calm down? What the hell is wrong with you?!” He continued. Then again, what wasn’t wrong with him?
Pigsaw let him go and sighed, realizing he’s right. He had no right to kidnap, even if for a silly idea he probably wouldn’t even be up for. “Look, I’m sorry, you have every right to be mad at me, but this effect will only go away at sunrise. So just let me explain everything. Okay?” Sunrise??? Michelle will wake up until then and see him gone. What’ll she think? But fine. He was listening, arms crossed. If the face expression wasn’t stuck like this, he’d show anger.
“Good. My plan,” he began, “was to get to a random kid’s house via one of my hounds, break in, replace the real elf on the shelf (if they had one), haunt them, and flee before the parents find out! Sound good?”
Silence was all the puppet got, before a resounding “no” came from the man. “That is absolutely ridiculous. And why, out of all people would you choose me for this? Don’t you have anyone else besides Pigface?” He was still very much pissed. “Besides, I could never do that a child, even if it’s for some stupid prank.” Shocker, the ex-president of the U.S. didn’t want to have fun.
“Come on, Barack!” his body went slump. “You never do anything fun, especially with me!”
“That’s because I don’t like you, Pigsaw; we’re never going to be anything else but enemies. As for not being fun, that’s not true!” His defensive side was peeking through the cracks, his cheeks slightly heating up.
Pigsaw raised an eyebrow. Nothing more, eh? “Whatever. Either we’re doing this, or you’re stuck here, all alone in my lab until sunrise, and you wouldn’t even know how to make it back home for Christmas. I can scare the kid myself,” he stated before turning on his heel and heading toward the laboratory door. It was pointless to argue. Obama stood there, watching.
Guilt would gnaw at him for joining in. Then again, nobody would know it was him. And it wasn’t every day that he liked being left out. He bit his lip.
“Oh, fine, I’ll come with,” he called out. “But I’ll just be watching you. If we turn back to normal before sunrise, you’re dead parts.”
The puppet was satisfied with that answer. “That works. Now hoist me so I can open the door.”
—
The “elves” rode the robot hound that ran like a snow wolf. In minutes, they reached a nearby neighborhood’s home, climbed up the roof, and jumped down the chimney with caution, hoping the fire was already put out.
“I’m still not convinced this will be a good idea,” Obama stated.
Pigsaw rolled his eyes. “Sourpuss,” he mouthed.
“What was that?”
“Nothing!”
Obama jumped first, scanning the area for any people. Thanks to the cotton body, he barely registered any pain from the fall. He then gave a sign that the coast was clear, and Pigsaw was soon next to enter.
“Huh. Not a lot of presents under the tree,” was the first thing he noticed. “Guess Santa didn’t like them as much this year.”
Obama chuckled. “You still believe in Santa?”
“Yeah? Don’t you remember when I sent you to the North Pole?”
Ah, right. He was mad about not getting the gifts he’d asked for and had sent Obama to help defeat the Grinch, who was hogging the presents. “Yeah, yeah, I remember. Did you get anything from him after that?”
Pigsaw was a little surprised about him caring. “I… did. A motorcycle. Uh, thanks for asking.” Barack smiled a bit wider.
They carefully snuck into the kid’s bedroom, the upstairs being their biggest obstacle (it was pretty obvious from the amount of signs and stickers glued to the door), trying to make as little noise as possible. Thankfully, the floorboards barely creaked, yet the door did. The two froze when the kid stirred, but she just turned to the other side, clutching her shark plushie tighter. They closed it after entering, and made way to a shelf; their first task was to pretend nothing had changed, so they sat in place, making the standard facial expression.
About 10 minutes later, the child woke up, wanting to drink her glass of water on the bedside table. That was their cue. Pigsaw moved first, crawling on the wall, fast enough to not notice but hear. The girl froze for a couple seconds before thinking it was just a bug crawling, and hesitantly went back to sleep. Now the puppet jumped from one object to another, causing mild noises. She awoke again, looking around. Anxiety was building up.
“…Hello? Who’s there?” She asked in a soft voice. Now Obama had to startle. “Amy,” he began, “I’ve been watching you this whole time. You’ve been naughty this year.” They’d found a medal from her school with the name “Amy Carswell” on it.
Even Pigsaw turned to Barack. That wasn’t part of the plan, but hey, he’ll take it!
“N-no! That’s not true…!” And she’s right; even her parents made sure of it. “I was good, I swear!”
Barack‘s heart ached, continuing anyway. “I’m not convinced… I’ll be telling Santa about you, you know.”
Tears nearly slid down her cheeks, her lower lip shaking. Pigsaw then walked across the desk, his signature laugh scaring the poor kid even more. “I… I didn’t do anything… Leave me alone.”
The puppet’s head was rotating 360 degrees, irises glowing a bright red, still laughing.
“Stop!”
Barack joined the puppet, crawling on the wall in Amy’s direction.
The girl finally jumped off the bed and fled to her parents’ bedroom. “Mommy! Daddy! There are monsters in my room!” Indeed there were. Her father woke up first, asking about it. She urged them to come look, and when they got to her room… Nothing. Of course.
“Sweetie, there are no such things as monsters,” her mother kneeled to her level and gave her a hug. “Come on, I’ll tuck you into bed. You must’ve just had a bad dream.”
But it was no dream. It was real… “…Okay,” she sniffled on her shoulder. “You sure I can’t sleep next to you?”
“If you get scared again, you can come sleep with us.”
Once the parents left, Amy‘s eyes darted in every possible direction before the anxiety subsided. Before she knew it, the demonic elves were crawling from under her bed, taking their time. Instead of screaming, she shut her eyes as tight as possible, whispering to herself ‘This isn’t real, this isn’t real…’. Obama put his face near hers.
“Boo.”
The kid yelled at the top of her lungs. The parents rushed to her room and scanned it for any intruders. “Come on, baby, we’ll take you to our room,” the father picked her up. That was the day she would never trust elves on the shelves again.
Outside of the house, Pigsaw and Obama were laughing the hardest they had in a long time.
“Oh, that was so good! Did’ya see her face when I spun my head? Hilarious!”
“Heh, yeah… How’d you do it, anyway?” Obama never knew he was capable of doing that while in this form.
“You were able to do it, too. Forgot to mention I added some magic to our bodies. Sorry about that,” Pigsaw apologetically raised his hands, still giggling. “Tell me, how are you feeling? Did you enjoy it as much as me? You calling her by name even gave me chills.”
What was he feeling? Shame and guilt most definitely. He can’t believe Pigsaw dragged him into this. He must admit, it was kinda funny. “Only you can come up with something as cruel as this, Pigsaw,” he spoke. “But I… enjoyed it. Thank you.”
The puppet gave him the ‘I told you so’ look. “See? You’re almost just as bad as me, Barack. Maybe I even dig it.
“…But I should be thanking you for making the experience better. I didn’t even want to celebrate this year.”
That caught Obama off guard. “Seriously?”
“Mm-hmm. Don’t know what came over me. Now I at least have something to tell Pigface.
…Say…. Want to do it again?”
Is he kidding? He wouldn’t be able to sleep at night if he scares another child!
“Or, or, we could wander around the streets, to a market, steal a couple things.” Barack’s silence spoke for itself, he realized.
Barack couldn’t believe him. Theft was his other option? Although, he guesses a few mandarins wouldn’t hurt the seller’s revenue much.
“Sure. Nothing expensive, okay?” Pigsaw nodded, and whistled for the hound to pick them up.