Three Ghosts

[light-the-sky76.livejournal.com]

Title: Three Ghosts 1/5
Author: light_the_sky76
Pairing: Monaboyd
Rating: R for language
A/N: I was talking to the receptionist at work one day and she was saying how she didn't like Christmas, I replied that she'd better be careful or she would be visited by three ghosts. Then as I walked back up the stairs to my office I thought 'hmmmmmmmm'
Summary: Bah humbug.
Disclaimer: Nonsense, fiction, crackfic. I have shamelessly nicked the idea for this story from Charles Dickens, but hopefully he wouldn't mind, I think he had a good sense of humour. Betaed by indigo_blind. Thank you :)



It doesn’t matter how the fight started. Billy couldn't remember anyway. The important thing was that it descended to a place where words like "Selfish bastard," and "Miserable shite," were being exchanged. Which lead to words like "I don't care what you do" and "Go to hell" being thrown around. Which then lead to "Fuck you!" and Dom walking away from Billy, his back stiff with anger, and slamming the door behind him.

"All is calm, all is bright," Billy mumbled bitterly and he stalked around the living room of their rented house looking for something to kick. Unfortunately nothing presented itself as a viable candidate. The furniture was hired and damaging it would just lose them their deposit, the presents under the tree didn't look heavy enough to provide the satisfying thud he was hoping for as his foot connected, the Christmas tree was no good at all – just lots of prickly needles and tinsel, and the wall was out of the question, Billy was looking to vent frustration not break bones.

Alcohol. In the absence of an act of gratuitous violence against an inanimate object, a large shot of whiskey was the only reasonable choice.

The first shot burned all the way down. The second shot was dulled by the lingering effects of the first and by the third Billy really didn't care. He held up his glass and toasted the empty room with shot number four "We'll raise a cup of kind my friends," drank, swallowed, shuddered, and abandoned the empty glass on the table.

Swaying ever so slightly, Billy planned his next move. More whiskey would be bad and going out was out of the question - he didn't want company and he couldn't bear the thought of the cheerful morons in the street yelling "Happy Christmas" at him.

So what that it was Christmas Eve? Billy didn’t care. It was all crap. There certainly wasn't any peace and goodwill between him and Dom. He was too old for presents and fairy lights and stockings. It was all a load of commercial nonsense anyway, he only agreed to the decorations because Dom insisted. And he wasn't here.

Billy decided to go to bed. Maybe, if he was really lucky, he'd wake up on New Years Day and the whole bloody festive season would be over and done with.

Leaving the tree and the decorations behind Billy pulled off his jeans, pulled on his pyjamas and climbed into bed; dragging the duvet up to engulf him in darkness. His head was full of angry sharp words leaving no room at all for dancing sugarplums.


~~~~~~

Bong

When the hell was that?

Bong

When had the clock in the hall become so loud?

Bong

Billy buried his head beneath his pillow.

Bong

It didn't help.

Bong

Fuck!

Bong

Maybe if he hit the clock with a hammer it would stop.

Bong

Billy didn't have a hammer; but he did have a heavy pair of shoes

Bong

But that would mean getting out of bed.

Bong

Fuck, fuck, fuck!

Bong

It had to stop soon.

Bong

Didn't it?

Bong


The final chime sounded and Billy sighed with relief. His relief lasted approximately three seconds.

Blinding white light filled the room penetrating the thick duvet.

"What the fuck?" Billy yelled to no one in particular.

"Sorry Billy," A familiar voice said, "that is probably too bright."

The light dimmed and Billy threw the covers aside to find himself staring at a figure stood in the middle of the bedroom dressed all in white and barefoot.

"Viggo?"

"Hello Billy," he grinned his maniacal grin. "I am the ghost of Christmas Past."