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Santa must have had a cookie/brandy homing device because in the blinding snow, he couldn't have seen them on the little table.

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"What's Contingency Plan B?" I asked.

"It's the Santa Trap!" yelled Molly.

She hit a key on my Mac and a spotlight hit the brandy and cookie table next to fireplace.

D'Oliya yelled," Here comes the Fatman homing in on my cookies.”

"And my Brandy Santalexander" said Louie.

"And my red bra," shouted D'Oliya.

"We're screwed. I drank the hot chocolate," wailed Vinnie.

"We didn't put out Molly's Merry Christmas panties!" panicked HiTone.

"I'm wearing them," shouted Molly back at HiTone.

"Pull them off," yelled HiTone.

"He'll never stop. We're doooomed," cried Vinnie.

"He couldn't read my Merry Christmas anyway," countered Molly.

"He's probably gay," shouted Vinnie. "We shoulda put out a pair of red leather chaps!"

I couldn't see much of anything in the storm.

Suddenly, what I swear to Godaddy were jingle bells ringing in the air.

Santa must have had a cookie/hot chocolate/brandy/red bra homing device because even in the blinding snow, he couldn't have seen them on the little table next to the fireplace, even with the pin spot on it. Although I agreed with HiTone that Molly's Merry Christmas panties would be a real eye catcher for the jolly olde elf. They had sure caught my attention.

Just as Rudolf's bright red nose appeared, the Cinzano umbrella Molly was using as a parabolic dish was caught the wind and swooped up right in front of the sleigh-puller. Rudolf and the sleigh swooped back up and were lost in the snowstorm in a New York second.

Molly said, “Shite! That’s it. That was plan B.”

"What's plan C?" asked HiTone.

"Cookies, and they didn't work."

"What about Plan D?" asked Louis.

"D'Oliya's D-Cups. I put Plan B, C, and D together. I thought it would have exponential power."

Vinnie asked, “Then we’re screwed exponentially?”

I wondered if I could drink Santa's brandy since he didn't want it.

Louie said, "Yeah. I don't know. Probably. He never stops twice in the same place."

"If we don't nail Santa, we can’t even get back to our own dimension" said Molly. "Without you becoming The Claus, and taking over his time-power, we won’t make our window.”

"Just shove a Christmas tree up my ass and get it over with," yelled Vinnie who had taken D'Oliya's whip and was scourging himself. "Now, I'll never have a hit record?"

We all just stood there. Me and the Buddabings Partymob. I looked them over. Whatever spark they had that made them so much fun was completely gone. They didn’t even look real anymore. They were beginning to look like a bunch of damn cartoon characters.

I was happy they didn't get Santa, but I was sad for them. And for me. I wouldn’t get Molly-coddled.

On the other hand, Santa would be safe, if there was a Santa. I mean I sorta saw him through the snowstorm, but I'd had a lot of beer and brandy and maybe I had hallucinated the sleigh and the red-nosed reindeer that almost landed. I wanted to think that. But I told myself to quit doubting what I'd already decided was real. BTW: that had never worked with my relationships, either.

Now, Christmas would be safe. That was what was important, wasn’t it? Or did it matter at all? I was back to "I couldn't think."

The GPS signal on my computer beeped like the "You've Got Mail" but more jingle-bellie.

“Wait!” screamed Molly, “Red Suit’s headed for 9th Avenue. Why, I don’t know.”

They started running toward the back door. “Maybe he wants a nightcap, after a hard day’s night.”

“Let’s move it,” cried Louie, leading the others toward the bar's back door.

I stayed in the backyard, taking a big hit of Santa's brandy.

I took another sip. I finally made a decision. I had to stop them. I rushed to the back door.

Next: Silent Night Big Bar Fight