A CONAN FAMILY CHRISTMAS

So, Stormfield (Yes, yes, I know, it's CAPTAIN) has been all hot on this Christmas thing. 'We've got to get a Christmas tree,' he says. 'We've got to give each other presents,' he says. 'We've got to drink eggnog and get in the holiday spirit,' he says. 'We've got to give money to the poor.'

'Give money to the poor?' I say, in what I think of as my normal voice, but which others APPARENTLY consider bellowing. 'Why just do that now? Why not the rest of the year?'

Stormfield looks at me like I'm a small child who's just been used by Krakechokahawa to say something profound. 'Look at it this way,' he says, after a moment of floundering. 'DO you give money to the poor the rest of the year? Do most people, that you've noticed?'

I consider. 'No.'

He nods as if that explains things. 'Very well, then.' (As far as I can tell that expression is not so much a meaningful phrase as it is a verbal or conversational hiccup. (Mr. Holmes said I should put that in. And also not to tell that it was him.))

Anyway, I set out from Stormfield's flat, bearing my broadsword, wearing my best loincloth, to look for the best tree to cut down and bring home. Naturally, such a tree would lie in Central Park. But APPARENTLY chopping down a tree in Central Park is against one of those ridiculous 'ordinances' that this "civilized" country sees fit to enforce.

Thus, Conan (meaning me) had to cut down approximately 742 policemen, several squadrons of infantry, and several rather large helicopters, before the Army and I officially signed a truce.

I went back to the flat and set the tree up. I didn't mention the Central Park debacle, because Stormfield has this habit of getting ridiculously angry over the stupidest things. But after the tree, Stormy in his wisdom (O how I make myself laugh) goes, 'Well, we need ornaments! And have you bought everyone presents?'

I have to buy EVERYONE presents?

'Yes,' according to him.

Even that LITTLE GREEN FREAK who runs around butchering grammar and dispensing wisdom?

'Yes.'

Even that HIDEOUS little Sir Darth...

'No, not him. We'll put some dog food outside the door for him.'

So I go out and buy things I think people will like. I find the people in this city very courteous: they don't arrest and imprison barbarian wanderers: they trip over themselves to give him help and 'perks'; by perks, I mean they do things like let you skip right to the front of the check-out line, etc.

I passed by a lady ringing a bell, asking for change for something called the Salvation Army. Figuring this to be one of Stormfield's 'charities', I dropped the Amorphous Jewel of Samarkand into the kettle (it's liquid half the time, so It went in rather easily), and turned to go. Just then I heard a shout behind me. I turned to see somebody running off with the charity kettle!

Quickly I took out one of the throwing knives from under my loincloth (causing some lady to faint, I know not why), and threw it, taking the villain in the back of the leg. I handed him over to the authorities, as they would be nicer to him than I would. I was hailed as a hero, and thanked profusely, but I walked home in a funk.

What was Christmas worth, I thought, if some sneak thief coukld dispel its joy so easily? What was the point, if the magic of the season fades so fast, on opening the door to recieve a sharp blast of cold reality? In Cimmeria, we celebrated the winter holidays by dicing the rear left paw of every sheep in the land, and offering them up to our gods of stone and wood. But here-- here you had to have magic.

I walked back into Stormfield's flat. the TV was on; I went to turn it off. But I stopped. There was some cartoon on, the typical kid's show designed to fill their head with fluff and give them a skewed view of reality. Or so I thought. One of the poorly animated characters, holding a blue blanket, was saying thus:

"And lo," he said. "There were in the same country shepherds, keeping watch over their flocks by night. And lo, the angel of the Lord came upon them, and the glory of the Lord shone round about them, and they were sore afraid.

"And the angel said unto them, Fear not, for behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy, which shall be to all people. For unto you is born this day in the City of David a Saviour, which is Christ the Lord. And this shall be a sign unto you; you shall find the babe wrapped in cloth, and lying in a manger."

And suddenly (says Conan), there was a great multitude of heavenly hosts singing, Glory to God in the highest, and peace on earth, good will toward men.

And if the cartoon characters can be joyful, and if the angels (who watch over men, and see their faults enumerated), can be joyful, I may as well be too.

'Yeah,' said Stormfield, shifting the cigar to the other side of his mouth. 'That's real neat. Now help me get this blasted tree set up.'

So there is but one thing left to say: Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night... I mean fight!"