Most members of the crowd held an unlit red, white, or green candle as the woman on the steps of the Episcopal church smiled broadly and called for them to gather in the fading light of dusk. Street and security lights clicked on as a dozen or so carolers shuffled closer together and closer to her, kicking up a little snow in the process.
“Welcome! Welcome all good people, and Happy Holidays! I am the Reverend Eucalypsis Wollstonecraft Meriwhether!” she announced as though she were revealing the grand finale of a magic act, then feigned a W.C. Fields-styled inside joke or backhanded secret whisper. “But most people conserve their oxygen and just call me Reverend Stoney!”
Sporadic chuckles fluttered throughout the group standing on the snow-blanketed lawn.
“Yes, there’s a story behind that name. Yes, you are perfectly welcome to ask me about it some time,” she continued. “Oh, and before I forget, they/them, and I thank you in advance,” she added with a flourish, a partial genuflect. “I’m very glad to see Reverend Eustis from the Unitarian Universalist church here with his partner, Bodi, is it? Bota? Anyway, ‘B’,” she said with a self-deprecating laugh and gesture. “I’d also like to recognize my special friend, Mitch, who is leading the singles ministry at the progressive Methodist congregation she–er, he–just helped start downtown. Please, greet everyone while manifesting the peace of the solstice.”
The members of the crowd exchanged enthusiastic, cheerful greetings of “Happy Holidays!” while Reverend Stoney continued talking over them.
“Mitch will be passing out these flame stickers,” she said, holding up her index finger to show them the orange and yellow sticker clinging to her fingertip. “Actual flames are not only dangerous but also tend to trigger anyone who ever survived a house fire or cross-burning, so please be respectful and do not light yours!”
Most of the crowd nodded although a few looked confused.
“And finally, if you look in your folders you will see that the lyrics of these wonderful carols have been rewritten to better reflect the inclusive non-religious spirituality we’ve all come to expect in these dark time–”
The sudden blaring of a sound they were not familiar with–and which was later described by a disheveled caroler as some kind of “out of control, demonic kitchen blender of the patriarchy”–announced the Samurai’s arrival.
No one saw which way he came from. Suddenly, the crowd parted and backed up forming a ragged circle with him at the center where he was recorded spinning up three perfect donuts by someone quick with their phone. What they didn’t see was the plastic charcoal lighter fluid bottle he was squeezing as he spun. The crowd gasped as he locked eyes with the phone’s owner and drew his pickled-oak katana–almost white–from the scabbard on his back. The words “Merry Christmas’ could be seen written in ragged red letters on the blade as the Samurai caught the man’s offending phone with the tip of the sword and launched it into a nearby non-binary manger scene, then pulled a several large, lit matches seemingly from nowhere and dropped them on the ground.
The lighter fluid immediately ignited causing the carolers to back up quickly. A few turned and ran.
The Samurai then executed a flying spin toward a couple of younger teenagers holding up sticks supporting each end of a “Happy Holidays” banner. “CHILDREN GO!” he yelled as he brought the sword Merry Christmas up through the banner, tearing and mangling it so that it was unusable. He slowly turned three hundred sixty degrees holding Merry Christmas in front of him at a high-ready position until he found himself facing Reverend Stoney who was staring in horror from the porch steps. The Samurai ran toward her but suddenly heard someone shout “Oh no you don’t!” as a large woman expertly covered the distance and intercepted the Samurai before he could reach the porch steps.
“Midge!” Reverend Stoney yelled. “Be careful!”
“It’s Mitch,” Midge yelled in response. “Goddammit!” Midge drove her shoulder into the Samurai from the side, her head sliding expertly in front of his rib cage. Rather than fall, however, The Samurai took the hit and let it carry him away from Midge, performing a twisting side flip with the precision and grace of a trapeze artist or olympic diver.
The Samurai landed back where the flames encircling his Kawasaki were quickly going out. He jumped on the bike and it screamed to life. He sped across the yard toward Midge, who threw a surprisingly muscled arm out in a last-ditch attempt to clothesline The Samurai who deftly ducked the arm, circled Midge, and used the centrifugal force generated by the bike to slam the katana broadside into Midge’s ample backside while shouting “NOT A MAN!” loudly and clearly through the mask. The sword emitted a loud crack as Midge fell forward into the snow.
Speeding away toward the manger scene and holding his cracked katana close to his side, The Samurai performed a perfect skid stop and looked down. A small girl doll was laying in the manger as two male dolls dressed like Mary and Joseph gazed down upon her. Three female dolls holding boxes labeled “gold”, “frankincense”, and “myrrh” were holding the reigns of camels at the edge of the display and appeared to be walking toward the manger. In the manger stall at the rear of the display, a doctor doll had been positioned sitting on a milking stool and holding a partially untwisted coat hanger.
“CONSEQUENCES!” The Samurai shouted before spinning the bike back up and doing some quick donuts and cuts in several piles of reasonable fresh dog shit that stood out vividly against the white snow melting from its edges. His rear wheel showered dog shit upon the outrageous creche with expert, almost preternatural precision, then encircled it quickly, the Kawasaki revving and screaming as he kicked it over with his foot and threw his broken sword at Midge, who had regained her wits and was sprinting at him across the lawn, kicking up snow as she ran.
The thrown sword, despite being almost broken in two, spun like a well-thrown boomerang, crashing into Midge’s legs just above the kneecap and taking her out.
“MERRY CHRISTMAS!” he yelled as he sped across the lawn on his back wheel, the front high in the air, ultimately disappearing around a row of neatly squared off hedges and out of view.
Most of the crowd was hiding behind cars and trees at this point. Several lay on the ground amidst all of the scattered candles and dog shit against the white backdrop of snow, torn grass, and mud.
Later, while giving statements to the police, the Unitarian Universalist minister was captured on video yelling, “This was a FUCKING HATE CRIME! Did you hear me? What he said? And we all heard it! I just can’t say it,” he said. “Please, someone, I can’t even say it.”
“It was, Merry Christmas!” Reverend Stoney confirmed, shouting at the officers from across the lawn. “Merry Christmas!”