Chapter Text
"Those stupid dicks." Dee mumbled, as she closed her apartment door behind her. She tossed her keys somewhere on her coffee table as she walked towards her bathroom to get cleaned up. The rest of the gang had thought it would be funny to throw water balloons at her earlier in the work day. Except, the balloons were filled with neon yellow paint instead of water and once she was covered in it, they started screaming at her and laughing, 'BIG BIRD! BIG BIRD!' Dee turned on the shower and turned to look into the mirror above the sink. She huffed in anger as she picked at the dried paint around her eyes. It was all in her hair and she felt like a total garbage fire.
"I'll show you Big Bird, you brainless assholes." Dee grumbled as she scrubbed at her face. She quickly undressed and got into the shower, letting the warm water wash away her problems. It was almost midnight once she got out and dried off. She had to close the bar, even while covered in paint. But thankfully Paddy's closed early on Christmas Eve. She plopped down on her couch, barely covering up with a blanket, she was too tired to pick the rest of it off the ground when it slipped down. She sighed loudly, hoping that someone would hear her, maybe break down her door and save her. She was tired, tired of the gang, tired of the bar, tired of all of it. She yawned as the TV in front of her played an old black and white movie, something about Christmas and families and bullshit not included in her rotten life. She mentally added Christmas to the list of things she was very, very tired of. She knew that tomorrow would suck, that the gang would forget about her, that her stupid old step-dad would fake her out again with presents. Her mom was dead, and she didn't give a solid fuck about where Bruce was. Fuck Christmas. Fuck it up it's jolly old ass. Her eyes fluttered closed as the grayscale people on TV were happily hugged around a Christmas tree. Dee Reynolds just couldn't relate.
"Hey." a voice suddenly said. Dee opened her eyes, it felt like she had only blinked. At first, she thought the voice had come from the TV, but it was gross sounding, nasally, all too familiar. Dee screamed and fell off the couch as she looked up at the face of her Garbage Pail Cousin.
"Gail!? How did you get in here?" Dee howled, tangled up in the blanket. She struggled out of it and threw it at Gail.
"I'm-" She paused as she made a gross noise with her nose. "The Ghost of the Past, or something." Dee looked up at her cousin in confused disgust.
"You're what?" Dee asked, bewildered.
"I'm supposta show you Christmas shit." She nodded her head toward the door. "Come on." She motioned for Dee to follow her. Dee shook her head, trying to wake herself up, but she was nearly convinced that she was awake. Dee stood up and followed the Snail to the door. Gail opened it, the hallway of her apartment building was no longer there, but the door opened up into something else. They stepped through the doorway and emerged in the Reynolds living room. Except, it was at least thirty years ago. Dee saw her mother, sitting in an armchair beside the tallest Christmas tree in Philadelphia. She was ignoring everyone, too busy focusing on the glass of scotch in her hand. Frank was running around with a video camera, filming the two little figures under the tree, tearing into boxes. She saw a tiny Dennis, his grubby little kid hands ripping through wrapping paper. And beside him, was her. Baby Dee, no older than six or seven, happily destroying bows and paper, desperate to get into the present inside. It was the one year that Frank didn't fake them out. The only year that Dee was actually happy on Christmas.
"Oh my god." Dee whispered, watching her happy family. Sure, her mother couldn't give a shit, but she was drunk off her ass, she was happy in her own way.
"Remember that?" Gail slurped. "That was the year the whole family came over, I was there too, but later." she mumbled. Dee frowned, suddenly realizing that she would never have a Christmas that happy ever again. Not with Frank, not with Dennis, and certainly not with her mother.
"Can we go now?" she asked Gail, who was now drooling, letting her spit slowly drip to the carpet below.
"Why?" she said, spitting the rest of the drool. "Don't you want to see?" Dee shook her head sadly.
"Can they see us?" she asked. Gail shook her head, slinging her spit.
"No. You could do anything you wanted to them, they wouldn't notice." Dee kept a comfortable distance from them, too scared to go any further. Too scared the memory would break. Dee simply stared at them, at herself. She had forgotten how cute Dennis was, before he grew up to be such a creepy asshole. She realized that she still had love for her brother, she missed how things used to be, before he threw paint at her for fun.
"Did you know that I'm sexually active now?" Gail suddenly cut in. "I have a boyfriend now, so..." Dee tore her eyes away from her family and grimaced.
"Ew, Gail no." she snapped. Dee sighed and backed away slowly. "Never mind, just...take me back, I want to wake up now." Gail inhaled sharply from her nose.
"There's still stuff I'm supposed to show you-"
"I don't care, Gail. Take me back!" Gail grabbed at Dee's sleeve and reluctantly dragged her back through the doorway. They were back in Dee's apartment, the Christmas scene was gone forever and Dee shoved her cousin's hand away. "I'm this close to grabbing the salt, you gross bitch. Get out of my house!" Gail shuffled her feet and looked up at Dee.
"So, are you coming by for Christmas, because I want to see Uncle Frank again." she said creepily. Dee winced.
"I thought you said you had a boyfriend, Gail." Gail smiled with all her gross teeth.
"I have lots of them." she admitted. Dee almost gagged.
"Sure okay, bye bitch." Dee said, shoving her back through the open door. Dee slammed it shut and rapidly shook her head, desperate to just wake up from this awful nightmare. As she turned around to go back to the couch a figure stood just behind her. Dee screamed and struggled to find the light switch in the dark room.
"Dee! Dee it's okay!" a voice called out, high-pitched and drug riddled. Dee cringed when her eyes made him out in the dark."It's just me! The Ghost of Christmas Present!"
"Noooo..." Dee whined. "No, Cricket no. Please just let me sleep, you disgusting dick." Cricket hobbled a little closer.
"There's still so much you have to see, Dee!" he said enthusiastically, obviously very high on crack. "Come with me!" Even Dream Cricket's face was half burned off, his eye was rolling around loosely and he was wearing his tattered old priest clothes.
"I'm not going anywhere with you, goddamn it. I'm going back to bed." Dee said, walking towards the couch. Cricket reached out and grabbed her by the wrist.
"Not today!" Cricket said, as he pulled Dee closer. He took her other hand into his and suddenly the room was gone. They were floating above Philadelphia in the nighttime, hand in hand, with the snow falling all around them. Dee could see her breath, but could not feel the cold. She screamed out in panic, scared that she was falling, but she and Cricket stayed in place, hovering above the city. "Isn't beautiful, Dee? A perfect place to raise our kids." Dee almost gagged again.
"We are never having goddamn kids, Cricket." Dee snapped. Cricket sighed and hung his head low in understanding.
"Yeah, I know." he replied solemnly. "Do you wanna go down there?" He pointed at the ground.
"Not with you." she mumbled. Dee looked over at Cricket, staring directly into his dog vagina scar. She shuddered. "Okay fine." she agreed. A smile crept onto Cricket's face as they quickly started to descend to the ground. They landed just outside of Paddy's, the lights inside were dim, and the place looked deserted. Cricket nodded for Dee to go inside, she hesitated but opened the door. The gang was inside, strewn about the place. Mac was sitting at the bar, his upper half splayed over the bar's surface, fast asleep. Dennis was sleeping in one of the booths, his head leaning back against the wall. Charlie was sleeping on one of the pool tables, the eight ball under his head like a pillow. Frank was just sprawled out on the floor, face down. The entire place was still covered in sick, yellow paint where Dee had been pelted with balloons only hours before.
"Look at them." Cricket said. Dee stood in the entryway, confused.
"Yeah, they look dead." she said, about to turn and leave. Cricket took her hand again and stopped her.
"No, they're sleeping." Cricket whispered. "They felt bad about hitting you with paint, they were waiting for you to come back." Dee raised an eyebrow.
"Bullshit." she mumbled. "These ass bags wouldn't apologize to me for shit." Cricket shook his head.
"Sure they would." he said. "Christmas is all about forgiveness. And crack, do you have any crack, Dee?" Dee was once again ripped out of what could have been a nice moment, with yet another stupid comment.
"No, I don't have any crack, Cricket." Cricket frowned. "Even if I did, I wouldn't share with you, ass clown."
"Okay, time to leave." he said, pulling her wrist toward the door.
"Wait, no!" Dee said. "They were going to apologize! You said so!" Cricket only pulled harder.
"No crack, no apology." he said as he pulled her halfway out the door. Dee struggled, but life on the streets had given Cricket immense amounts of strength. He ripped her outside, as she was screaming and clawing her way back in. Dee was suddenly falling, down and down into a seemingly endless pit of despair. Cricket was gone, off to find some crack. Maybe Santa brought him some for Christmas. Dee suddenly dropped back down with a jolt. She scrambled around, expecting the worst. But she had landed back on her couch, in her shitty apartment.
"I'm awake!" she screamed up to the ceiling. "I'm goddamn awake!" She nearly kissed the ground, she was so relieved.
"Don't be so sure, Deandra." Dee's heart sank into her stomach. She turned her head to the right and she screamed in terror. "Ugh, is this how my daughter has been living? It looks like pigs live here, dear."
"Mother?!" Dee howled, scrambling again as she fell off the couch.
"Oh, how very attractive." Barbara said, a martini glass in her hand. She was leaning against the wall, staring out the window like a model past her prime. "Is your brother well?" she asked. Dee stared up, tired and angry and desperate to wake up.
"I don't give a shit about Dennis." Dee said rapidly. "Who gives a shit about Dennis?" Barbara sighed dramatically and looked down into her glass.
"And you wonder why you weren't my favorite child." Dee shook her head, rolling her eyes.
"What do you want mother? You haunted me enough when you were alive, but you have to bitch at me as a ghost too?"
"I am the Ghost of Future's...whatever, dear." Barbara said in a half-drunken slur. "I'm here to show you your future, apparently you actually have one." Barbara walked away from the window and stood in front of Dee. Dee got to her feet, wide-eyed.
"Am I famous?!" Dee asked, grabbing at her mother's shoulders, the contents of the glass spilling down to the floor. "Am I on Broadway?!" Barbara took a step back.
"That's what I'm here to show you, calm down." Barbara said, attempting to save what was left in her glass. "I don't know why I'm even here, actually. They couldn't have gotten someone else?" she sighed and snapped her fingers. Suddenly, Dee was in a completely different place. A lavish mansion, decorated in greys and blues, a beautiful living room with a roaring fireplace, a gigantic Christmas tree in the corner. The mantle of the fireplace was covered in Tony awards, so many in fact, that a shelf was built above it to hold all the rest, the Emmy and the many Oscar statues, all engraved with her name. On the couch, in front of the fire, was Dee, old and warm and happy, a drink in her hand, but it was nearly empty.
"Oh..." Dee gasped, her hand clutching over her heart. A man walked in, with two glasses in his hands. He was young and beautiful and he walked over to Old Dee, he handed her a new glass of wine and kissed the side of her head. Young Dee turned to her mother and slapped hard at her shoulder. "I married Groban!" she screamed. "I married Josh fucking Groban!" Dee nearly dropped to the floor in excitement, tears stinging her eyes. But as Dee was celebrating, Barbara only smiled. Then she laughed. Cruel, dark and evil like a Disney villain.
"Oh, Deandra. I couldn't resist, I'm sorry." Barbara laughed. Dee's smile faded quickly into a look of defeat. Her mother snapped her fingers again and the dream life was now gone, replaced with an apartment even grosser than her own. Dee looked around her, she winced.
"This is Charlie's apartment." Dee said, slowly coming to the realization. "No. No, this isn't right." She looked over at Barbara in panic. Barbara only nodded.
"I'm afraid it's true, dear." she said calmly, taking a drink. "You marry the buffoon." Dee looked over at the window. A different Dee, in the not too distant future, was sitting beside the closed window, her back against Charlie's chest, his arms around her. Snow was falling softly outside, in the cold Philadelphia night. Charlie looked happy, Future Dee looked happy, but Present Dee was at a loss for words.
"This isn't a dream. This is a goddamn nightmare!" she screeched. "I don't marry Charlie, please tell me that I don't marry Charlie!" Dee grabbed at her mother again, taking her roughly by the shoulders as she shook her. The martini glass fell to the floor and shattered, the glass pieces scattered into empty cat food cans and old laundry. "NO! Not him, not him!" The scene started to disappear, Charlie's apartment faded back into Dee's. The hands Dee now had around Barbara's throat were now wrapped tightly around her blanket. She rose up, now fully awake on her living room floor. The sun was streaming in through the windows, all the awful ghosts were gone and Dee breathed a sigh of relief. "Goddamn it." she sighed in exhaustion, hands over her eyes. She slowly got up and immediately started getting ready for work. The bar wouldn't be open for a while, but Dee had a lot of things to take care of at Paddy's.