Pitch: First Season 13 Chapter 13 Mama's Boy

Initially, we planned to spend four weeks at the festival, but by the third week, we had enough. The novelty of being in a place with so much weed smoke, alcohol, and s.e.x was wearing down. It got old having to fight to use bathrooms with hundreds of other people at a time. Fur and desert heat didn't mix well. The sights were still cool, but the people were beginning to leave a bad taste in our mouths. Every morning we woke up to find more vomit outside our tent than the night before. All of the good bands had already performed, but we couldn't watch any of the performances either way. Even the simple act of walking around became a ha.s.sle as more and more people got into day drinking themselves into idiots with low tempers.

But we couldn't leave without Russell. The worst part was we couldn't have known without a shadow of a doubt whether or not Russell was still around or if he left us. Wes kept rea.s.suring me that his cousin wouldn't be so careless as to drive off without us, but we couldn't even get him to answer the phone.

"So if we're trying this if we're together, can I tell you to wear pants now?" I asked jokingly.

There was new chemistry between Wes and I. There was a new dynamic. With everything out in the open, I think it was safe to say we were both figuring things out. We said we'd try to see where things went, but making moves toward that was easier said than done. There was an unclear line between our friendship and whatever we were opening ourselves up to. I think it was easier just to continue to treat one another as friends, but of course, that meant it was harder to treat each other like anything more despite our willingness to. Our way of getting over the tension was essentially asking one other questions until everything felt less awkward.

"Only if I can tell you to stop wearing them," Wes replied as we crossed a more barren patch of the sandy desert plains on our way to the festival's outer limits.

We were hoping to find Russell hiding out in someplace we hadn't visited yet. With there being so few locations we'd yet to cross, the only places left were those far from the main areas.

As we walked, I noticed something peculiar in the distance. A bird was flying in our direction. I couldn't make out what kind of bird it was, but it was close to the ground and heading straight for us. It wouldn't have been the first time I was attacked by a bird looking for an oversized meal. As it gained speed, I ducked behind Wes, who stood still.

To my surprise, the feathered creature ignored me entirely and landed on Wesson's arm. I slowly and hesitantly stood up as I watched the Falcon and Wes have a full-blown conversation. Just as I started to feel relieved, the bird retook flight and left us. I stood confused.

"What was that?" I asked.

"I know where my cousin is," Wes replied.

"Did you have that bird looking for him?" I question.

"Not exactly," he said.

"So, you can control animals now?"

"I wish. Animals are just like you and me. They have lives of their own, so getting them to do stuff usually costs something."

"What did having a falcon search for your cousin cost?"

"You don't want to know," he said.

"If you say so, but where is Russell?"

"Santa Claus has him," he said with too straight a face for what came out of his mouth.

I thought for sure I missed heard him.

"Santa Claus?" I asked.

"Yes."

"The Santa Claus?" I asked again, still in awkward disbelief.

"Apparently he's here, and my cousin is with him."

Santa Claus was a human magician famous for holiday-themed spells. Back when my dad was a kid, Santa was rumored to have gone so far as to use his spells to deliver presents to kids around Christmas time. As time went on, he stopped going out as often as he once did. Santa was almost an urban legend by the time I was 12, but the media covered him from time to time enough to know he was real. For him to be at STR, felt out of character in the strangest of ways.

"Do you think I can kiss you?" Wes asked while I was still in the middle of processing.

"What?"

"Can I kiss you?" He repeated.

"Right now?"

"No, I mean in general," he said.

"I don't know, I mean if you were a girl," I started to say.

"But I'm not a girl," he said.

"And that's not a problem, I just..."

I paused before I put my foot in my mouth.

"Maybe we should focus on your cousin for right now," I said as we started walking again.

The mood took a sharp turn.

"Yea... he's supposed to be over by stage 3. Santa has a private set up," Wes said.

We didn't talk during our walk. Neither of us had any more questions to ask at the time, or if we did, they weren't big enough to ask yet.

"Holy s.h.i.t!" Wes said, breaking the silence as we made our way around stage three. There were a set of brightly colored tents conspicuously hidden from view by the stages build.

"What?" I asked.

"Dude! Elves," Wes exclaimed as he pointed out the pointy-eared people that seemed to be manning the different tents.

"Wes, we have elves in Daybreak."

"But those are Christmas elves, look at those red and green footy pajamas, our elves don't walk around looking like toddlers," he joked, and admittedly it got a laugh out of me.

At least the mood was back to cheerful. Was that a requirement when dealing with Santa and his elves?

We started to approach the tents but were quickly stopped by a duo of rather muscular elves. People liked to think of elves as little people, or twigs, but most of them had the genetics to compete against Olympic athletes.

"Please state your business," said elf number one who was decked out in an all green leotard.

His partner stood behind him silently intimidating Wes and I. Or more accurately, he tried to intimidate us, but couldn't because of those outrageous clothes.

"We need to see Santa," I said.

"Then find us in December," the green elf said with a lack of interest in his tone.

"It's important," I added.

"Sure, kid. You're not getting through unless you have an appointment, and Santa ain't looking to talk to you."

"We're not kids," Wes said, backing me up.

"What, are you with the Easter bunny or something?" Mr. Green asked, looking me over.

Wes turned to me and almost laughed. He had to bite his lip to keep it in. I figured if it could get us through, I could humor the a.s.sumption.

"Yes, yes, I am," I said.

"Oh, s.h.i.t," Mr. Green exclaimed with open eyes.

I couldn't believe he bought it, but I was the right kind of hybrid for the con.

"Why didn't you say so, is this about the holiday council?" He asked as he and his partner stepped to the side to let us through.

"It's a private matter, but we need to speak with Santa as soon as possible," I added.

Wes broke face and laughed almost to our detriment. Lucky for us, my appearance held enough weight to our story for the elves to let us through regardless.

We were escorted to Santa's private tent by a different elf wearing the same ridiculous Christmas get up in a shade of red.

"So what's the difference between an elf and a Christmas elf," Wes asked.

"We get 401ks," our elf escort replied.

"What's up with the skin-tight pajamas, is that like a uniform," Wes continued to joke.

I nudged Wes to stop him from baiting the elves further, and he did stop, after another set of low hanging jokes. He was enjoying the moment a little too much. The elves were so militant. The amount of convincing it took for them to let us through made it seem the situation was more severe than we knew.

Santa's tent was the biggest out of a set of 5, and they were large tents. They were almost big enough to consider small homes. The smallest was a few walls short of being the same size as my home in Daybreak. Approaching Santa's tent, we found that he was outside reclining in a chair sunbathing. There was only one way to describe Santa at that moment.

Soggy.

There were too many rolls of fat to count, and each of them was making enough sweat to fill a swimming pool. His white beard was dirty with some kind of sauce kin to gravy, and for some reason, despite his lack of a shirt, he felt the need to wear leather gloves and his iconic hat. The closer we got, the more disturbing the scene became. Wes and I both shared a number of glances silently signaling to one another that we indeed saw the same thing.

Once we made it over, the elves left us with the big guy. I don't think Wes or I wanted to say anything, but I stepped forward.

"Mr. Santa Claus, sir," I said, almost timidly.

Santa was a celebrity, a powerful magician, and I was a rabbit half his size and nowhere near his net worth. I thought it best to try to remain respectful and dignified. There was no telling how he'd treat us.

He sat up, and his entire body rolled sloshing sweat with the slightest of movements. The fat man took one look at me and rolled his eyes like I was delivering bad news.

"I told Easter I'd return his basket before spring," Santa said.

He also believed I worked for the Easter bunny.

"Santa, Sir, we're not here because of the Easter bunny, or his basket," I said.

"Then why are you here, and how'd you get past the front line," he asked in a p.i.s.sed off tone.

"We're looking for my cousin Russell. He's a satyr like me, bigger horns, more fur, drinks a lot, talks a lot," Wes said, finally chiming in.

"You're related to the b.i.t.c.h with a losing streak?" Santa said rhetorically.

"So he is here," I said, ignoring the apparent insult hurled at Wes.

"c.u.n.t tried to drink me out of a reindeer, couldn't hold his liquor long enough to keep the clothes on his back, so I took everything else," he said, laughing and flinging sweat enough to make Wes and I both step back.

"Where is he now," Wes asked.

"You should have traveled with better company boy, your kin is in trouble," Santa said as he stood up from his seat, leaving a moist spot where his back was.

We followed the fat man into his air-conditioned tent. It was Christmas. Trees, cold, elves were walking around waiting on the fat man's hand and foot. There were even spots where actual snow fell despite our being in the desert.

"How much does he owe you?" Wes asked.

"More than you can pay," Santa replied as he continued to walk deeper into his pad.

I think he believed we'd leave if he kept his back to us long enough.

"Please, we need him," Wes pleaded.

"And I need a month without kids like you begging for s.h.i.t you can't get yourself. I swear I can't throw one festival," Santa retorted.

"What do you mean 'can't throw one festival'?" Wes and I both questioned.

"What do you think STR stands for? Santa's Therapeutic Retreat," the fat man said.

Santa being the one responsible for throwing a festival in the middle of the New Mexico desert was a surprise, but we couldn't focus on it.

"Your cousin, he's in some deep s.h.i.t, and he ain't going nowhere. Unless you want to join him, I suggest you and your short-tailed friend be on your Merry way," Santa said to Wes.

The fat man took a seat on what might have been the Christmas throne. Wes and I both tried to argue for Russell's release, but we were cut short by a team of elves. They forced us out of the tent, then pushed us out of the Christmas zone completely.

"s.h.i.t!" Wes said as we were knocked to the sand.

He actually seemed worried. We went back to our tent to regroup, and the entire time he couldn't stop cursing at the wind. Once we were inside our own s.p.a.ce, I rested a hand on his shoulder to keep him from nervously pacing back and forth.

"Wes," I said in the calmest voice I could muster, and he simmered down enough.

"I'm sorry Pitch, this isn't how I wanted things to go," he said, turning his head away from me.

"It's fine. It's not your fault; your cousin is an idiot," I joked, and it got a grin out of him.

"We can't leave without him. Do you know what my mom will do if we hitchhike from New Mexico to Montana? She'll think I almost died, and I'll never get to go anywhere again," Wes explained before adding, "and he's my cousin."

"Then we'll have to convince Santa to let him go," I said.

"Santa doesn't seem to charitable. We have to free him ourselves."

"Free him? You mean break Russell out?" I asked in a tone, obviously implying the recklessness of the suggestion.

"Yea, its Santa, not the county jail," Wes joked.

"We don't even know where he is."

"You can still do the whole invisible thing, right?" Wes asked.

"...Yea," I said hesitantly because I knew where he was going.

"Then just turn it on, walk over to Christmas Land, and check the tents till you find him."

"You realize I'd have to be naked, right?"

"I'm aware," he said.

"And I'd have to stay invisible long enough to check at least four tents."

"Yep," he said nonchalantly.

"Wes!" I exclaimed at the ridiculous idea.

"I don't hear you coming up with a better plan," he said.

"Even if I find him, how would I get him out? I can't make other people invisible. And what if he's behind bars or chained up?"

"I don't know, but I can't think of another way."

We went silent. I thought it over for a minute. Wes sat in his bed, and I sat in mine. If I knew any kind of magic, or we had a different set of skills, the predicament may have been simpler. I was. .h.i.tting a wall as far as ideas.

"Fine," I said.

Wes looked over at me, confused until I continued.

"I'll do it. I won't like it, but I'll do it," I said.

"Thank you," he said while I sighed with exhaustion.

We waited until night gave us cover. During those hours of sunlight, I took the time to practice my particular skill. It was rare that I used my invisibility. It always seemed like a useless power when I had to be nude for it to be effective. The longest I ever held my transparent form was 5 minutes. It took extreme calm and attentiveness to keep from slipping back into visibility. Stress, anger, anxiety, or anything close to fear was enough to slip up. If I f.u.c.ked up, I'd be caught wandering around Santa's tents naked, so all I had was stress.

When it was finally time to go, I was feeling less than confident. Wes awkwardly turned his back to me, so I'd have privacy while I got undressed.

"You got this man," he said, attempting to cheer me on.

"This still feels like a bad idea," I replied as I dropped my pants and left my clothes resting on my bed. I went transparent, and it was time for the real test.

"Alright, look at me," I said before Wes turned around in response.

He was looking right at me.

"Can you see me," I asked nervously.

"You're fading in and out," he said.

I tried to relax. It wasn't going to be any more comfortable once I left the tent.

"Ok, you're good now, I can't see you at all," he said, but it was hard to feel confident.

It was like trying to hold my breath while keeping myself from thinking how much I needed air.

"Great," I said sarcastically before heading for the tent's door.

Pulling back the curtain-like wall, Wesson's voice stopped me before I stepped outside.

"Hey, Pitch," he said.

"Yea," I said.

"Can I kiss you?"

"Now's not the best time, Wes," I said.

"Right, right," Wesson replied, and then I left.

There was a long walk from our tent to Santa's, and it was hard to maneuver around. When people can't see you, they don't make room for you to walk by. It took twice as long to get half as far because people almost b.u.mped into me at every turn. If I breathed the wrong way, it would have given me away. If I stood still for too long, my feet made footprints in the sand. I had to be completely aware of my body to keep it from coming into contact with anyone else. In a way, it got easier to hold my transparent form because as I realized no one could see me, I stopped thinking about how my b.a.l.l.s were out.

When I made it to Christmas Land, it was relatively easy to sneak by the elf guards. They had magic defenses and cameras on the lookout. Creatures capable of invisibility were rare, so I don't think they had anything to point me out specifically. I knew Russell wasn't in Santa's tent, so that left four possible places for him to be stashed. I felt like a cat burglar tiptoeing along trying to keep from leaving a trail in the sand.

The hardest part was opening the tent doors. Doors don't open on their own, so if anyone were inside when I opened one, it would have looked suspicious as h.e.l.l. I had to wait until someone walked by so they could open the door, then I could follow them in. The waiting made the night long and drawn out.

The desert wasn't scorching hot at night. It was freezing cold. Unfortunately, to keep hidden, I had to cup my b.a.l.l.s and fight through it. It took almost 15 minutes for someone to walk by so I could enter the first tent.

It was a bust.

That tent was a sleeping area for most of the elves. There were about ten bunk beds and a bathroom. Just to be safe, I looked around, but my initial a.s.sessment was right. Russell wasn't there. I felt extra creepy looking around beds while I was naked, so I was happy to leave as quickly as possible.

The second tent was a type of eating area. There were a bunch of tables and chairs, but with it being rather late, no one was around. There wasn't much to search through, so I left as quickly as I came.

I was beginning to think I'd never find Russell until I entered the third tent. It was the largest tent second only to Santa's. It appeared to be a holding area for the reindeer. I think they were stables. I checked each stall one by one but found little to nothing more than reindeer, p.o.o.p, and several bugs flying around.

Then I heard a sound.

It was a grumble, or maybe a moan that came from a stall I already checked. I went back, and after further inspection, I found that someone was chained to the floor.

It was Russell.

He was purposely chained to a spot under the reindeer's a.s.s. He was knocked out, or sleeping; either way, he was oblivious to my presence even as I smacked his face and tried to get him to wake up. In the end, he had to stay that way. I didn't have a way to undo his chains, so waking him would have solved nothing. I looked around the stables in search of keys of any kind but came up short. I had to leave the tent. Part of me wanted to regroup with Wes before going on a key hunt, but I was doing good so far and didn't want to give up yet.

I never knew how good I was at sneaking around until I had a good reason to try.

The fourth tent was used for holding weapons. Santa had an armory. Mr. Claus was born and raised in Texas, so it shouldn't have come as any surprise that he carried a number of guns, but holy s.h.i.t. There were guns, blades, and I'm talking medieval s.h.i.t. I'm surprised I didn't cut myself just from looking around. I contemplated using a sword of some sort to break Russell's chains, but that would have been too big to carry around without notice. My best bet was to keep looking for keys.

With no other tents to search, I knew there was only one place left to look. Santa's tent.

He had a queen-sized bed with elf guards at every corner of his red and green palace. To make matters worse, it was extra dark, which made it harder to look for something as small as a set of keys. I couldn't move anything in the room without someone noticing, so I had to create a diversion big enough to keep everyone busy while I looked around.

I walked back to the weapons tent, and when it was finally clear of elves, I got my hands on what I thought were grenades. I pulled at least seven pins before making a run for it. I waited for an explosion, but it didn't happen as quickly as movies made it seem. The blast, the sound, the shock wave, they all caught me off guard enough to make me slip up. I was visible for at least a minute before I calmed down enough to go transparent again.

They weren't regular grenades. They blew up, but I doubt they were deadly. They made such brilliantly bright, vivid clouds of Christmas color. In no time flat, the area was swarming with elves, and as I returned to Santa's tent, I found that it was empty. Even Santa himself was outside looking over the chaos. I didn't have much time to look around, so I was frantic in my search. I was able to find three sets of keys. I figured while everyone was still distracted, it was probably the best time to sneak Russell out.

I took the three sets of keys, and while avoiding the search parties that were forming, I made my way back to the stables. The keys worked. I got Russell out of his chains, but he was still out cold. I slapped him, I kicked him, I ripped fur from his body, but nothing woke him. With time running out, I used a natural resource that was readily available to me. I slapped a reindeer's a.s.s and made it kick Russell in the face.

That got him up.

"What the f.u.c.k," he said, getting up from his spot on the ground, holding his jaw.

"We need to leave," I said.

"What the f.u.c.k," he repeated, and I realized I was still invisible.

I covered my crotch before allowing him to see me.

"We need to leave now," I said.

"Little man, you rescued me," he said drunkenly.

How had he been drinking while held against his will? I'll never know, but we didn't have time to argue. I pulled on his arm to get him to follow me, but he stopped just short of leaving the reindeer's stall. He turned back, and after stumbling to recollect his balance, Russell cold-c.o.c.ked the reindeer hard enough to knock it out. I was speechless, but we couldn't talk. I pulled him along, and we left the tent.

I was still very visible, and very naked because I didn't want Russell to lose sight of me, but that quickly gave us away. A swarm of elves converged on us like bees. Russell flawlessly knocked anyone out who got too close, but the real danger was Santa.

Santa was a world-cla.s.s magician. It didn't matter if most of his spells were holiday-themed, he was still deadly.

"Where did you park the car," I asked Russell as we ran for our lives.

"By the front," he said.

"The front of what," I exclaimed as I came very close to being decapitated by a war ax.

Russell picked me up and carried me like a damsel in distress. It might have been emasculating had it not been necessary. He was able to get us further away a lot quicker. But it didn't matter. We got to the edge of Christmas Land, just to be stopped by Santa.

The fat man cast a spell that made a forest of pine trees grow and block our path. Russell and I had to turn back around to watch him strolling over to us. Carrying his spellbook, the blob of jolly mean jelly was still shirtless and wearing leather.

"Now where do you think you're going," Santa said with reinforcements growing behind him.

"Claus, buddy, as much as I love spending time with my face in Rudolph's a.s.s, he's just not my type," Russell said smugly.

"You owe me you fur-covered cut, and you ain't leaving till I say so," Santa demanded.

"Santa, Sir, we just want to go home," I said.

"That ain't my problem runt," Santa replied with visceral venom in his tone.

"Put us on the knotty list, or something, but we're leaving," Russell added before turning his back to leave.

Santa searched his book for another spell to cast, and in a moment of sheer flight or fight, something propelled me to hop over and punch the fat man in his face. I literally "hopped," and it gave my punch so much force behind it; I knocked Santa off his feet. I'd been a hybrid for so many years, but that was the first time using my more animal half served me well in a fight. The moment took everyone by surprise as we watched the fat rolls role around in the sand. The elves, who were heavily armed, were frozen. I was frozen. I didn't know I had it in me, but before the spectacle wore off, I followed behind Russell.

We went to get Wes before heading for the car. He was confused by our having to run, but Wes understood the moment well enough to follow my lead. We left behind so much of our stuff, but at least Wes managed to keep his favorite hoodie, and I got my pants. Only after we were in the car did Wes finally ask what happened, and I was willing to humor the conversation.

"I can't believe it worked. You did it. How did you do it?" he asked.

Russell laid out in the back seat while Wes and I searched the front for the car keys.

"Long story short, I knocked out Santa, but right now, we need the keys," I said.

"Just use Santa's keys," Russell mumbled from the back.

"What?" I asked, confused more than anything.

"Santa's keys, they're magic, they work on everything," Russell added.

I still had Santa's keys. In my ignorance, I had no idea I stole something so valuable and useful.

In the rearview mirror, I saw something storming in our direction from a distance. Santa was back up. There was a sand storm of red and green engulfing STR the closer the threat came to us in the car. I didn't feel good about taking his magic keys, but I didn't feel like testing my luck in a second-round against the fat man. I held the keys to the ignition, and before even sliding them in, the car started. Of course, I got us on the road as quickly as humanly possible.

We all celebrated in our own way. I was just happy to have my pants back on.

"Your mom is going to kill me," Russell mumbled from the backseat.

"No, she won't, not if she doesn't know what happened," Wes said.

"You know I've had some of the worst luck imaginable, but this is the first time I've done something so bad as stealing from Santa, I'm just like my mom," I said.

"Dude, we had to do it," Wes expressed.

"We could have found another way, we should have found another way," I said.

"But no one got hurt, no one is going to jail, and we can always mail the keys back later," Wes debated as he tried to make me feel better.

We had almost no money, no food, and lost most of our bags. We didn't see any of the bands perform, we got into a fight with Santa, and yet the worst part had nothing to do with the festival itself. With Russell safe, we didn't have anything to worry about other than ourselves. As we hit the highway, I felt our shifting.

"Can I kiss you now," Wes asked without warning.

The question came out nowhere and almost made me swerve off the road.

"Right now?" I asked.

"I've wanted to for a while. You just rescued my cousin, and we're going home with Santa's magic keys. I want to kiss you, or touch you, or something," he said.

"You touch me all the time."

"That's not the same. Can I kiss you? If not, then we can just stay friends and act like this trip never happened, but if you say yes, that means something," he suggested.

"Wes...I don't know."

"Is it because I'm a dude?" He asked nervously.

"No, you having a d.i.c.k isn't a problem," I said jokingly.

"Really?"

"Yea, it's at the bottom of the list," I said.

"Then what is it?" He questioned.

"I know you, I can't just treat you like anyone else, I don't want to do anything to fast, I don't know what I'm doing," I said keeping my vision straight so we wouldn't lock eyes.

"Ok... then what if I lead?" He asked.

"Lead how?"

"For now on, I'll make the first move. That way, if it's the wrong move, it's on me."

"You're serious," I asked.

"Only if you want to," he said.

I paused. I didn't mean to, but I had to think it over for a moment before I could answer.

"Sure, I guess that could work," I said with a grin.

"Great," he replied energetically.

The air in the car felt light and warm. I thought we were in a good spot, and then in his usual casual way, Wes caught me off guard.

"Wait, what are you," I started to say before my words were cut short.

He held the side of my face and pulled me in. Neither of us shut our eyes until our lips actually met. It wasn't bad. In fact, as it went on, It got more relaxed, almost natural. Then he let go. I nearly crashed the car during our first kiss, but we weren't dead yet. He didn't say anything, but Wes sat back in his seat with this expression of sheer satisfaction. I wasn't sure if I should ruin the moment by saying something else, but I didn't have to.

"I guess this can work," he said.

"What?" I asked, confused.

He gestured to my crotch by glancing down at it before fixing his eyes back on mine.

I had a hard-on.

I quickly tried to hide it while he laughed at the sight.