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No, this isn’t the same story as last year, just the same exposition

Billy and Zoë were always said to be good kids, not getting in fights, making the sports team, honor roll, debate team, cheer squad, chorus and band. Both moderately popular jacks-of-all-trades, they managed to make prom king and queen even though they were just friends, and got scholarships to the same college. Billy played sports year round, but managed to talk about other things, mainly debating, singing or playing clarinet. Well, not when he was doing those things, as they involved his mouth. He had a tall, muscular build, his features seemingly mismatched. He had soccer legs and basketball feet, baseball arms on a football torso, which his head was thankfully not too small for, his white blond hair contrasting with his frequently red face. Zoë’s body, however, seemed more perfectly constructed. She had toasted mocha skin and shiny black hair, large brown eyes, long willowy arms and legs rippling with muscles and small, athletic breasts that did not get in the way when she cheered, played the flute, lacrosse, tennis or cricket. Both frequently smiled, especially when the life-long friends found out they were going to college together.

“It simply shan’t be Christmas without granmama!”

“No, no! It simply, simply shant!”

Two young women, roughly sixteen and fourteen, wrung their hands as they sat in their parlour. Their embroidery had been cast aside, and there was a tea service waiting by the dark haired sister’s chair.

“There’s no way that we could come to her? Bear her our gifts and some nice pudding for the holiday? I simply hate to think of her alone on Christmas.”

“Oh, no! Papa’s far too busy! What with all the snow, he has too work extra, extra hard, he doesn’t have any time to And how would we ever get her back?”

“No, you’re right, Cece, you’re right. Although… we could—possibly—make our way to her home by ourselves?”

“Oh no, Margaret! How could we possibly?”

“No no, Cece, please, do forgot I said anything.” The fair-haired girl took her sister’s hands in her own and looked her earnestly in the eye.

“We shall simply have to do our very best to spread some cheer without her for papa’s sake; shan’t we Cece?”

“Yes, Margaret. We simply shall.”

Billy leaned over to his friend, eyes glued to the television and wearing an expression between bemusement and dismay.

“Zoë, what the fuck are we watching?” he asked.

“It’s Cecile and Margaret’s Christmas Special, and I watch it every year.” Zoë answered matter-of-factly, popping a kernel of caramel corn in her mouth.

“Why?” Billy asked.

“Because I watch it every year.”

“Do you like it?”

“It’s tradition!” Zoë shrugged, passing Billy the tin. He accepted it and shoveled a handful into his mouth, unable to look away from the screen.

“That’s not what I asked.”

“If you’re gonna be like that, I’ll have that caramel corn back.” Zoë retorted, pulling the tin from her friend’s hands. “I’m the one who got it in the dorm Yankee swap, anyway.”

“Yeah, and I’m the one who bought it for the dorm swap. Well, I bought one of them. Why does everyone buy mixed popcorn for Yankee swaps?”

“Because they secretly hope they’ll get it.”

Onscreen, the slightly oversaturated film showed the two young women fretfully trying to figure out what they could do with their hands while being filmed, because it appeared neither of them actually knew how to sew.

“Oh, Cece!” the fair-haired Margaret cried, they seemed to cry everything, flinging their hands around. Billy wasn’t sure if that was a directing choice or they were just really bad actresses.

“When was this made?” Billy asked, cocking his head.

“Early eighties, can’t you tell by the makeup?”

“Yeah, I noticed that… regency clothing, eighties makeup.” Billy nodded. “So what’s with the cardboard fireplace?”

“Low budget.” Zoë answered.

“So why do you watch it?”

“I told you, I watch it because watch it every year.”
“So… you watch it because you watch it?”

“Look, I liked ‘Cece and Margaret’ when I was a little kid, alright?” Zoë said defensively. “Little girls at Christmastime with long pretty dresses like a princess.”

“Didn’t the DVD box say it was set in eighteen thirteen? Wasn’t that during that war of ‘we told you, we don’t want no stinkin’ monarchy’? That sounds about as far from a princess as you can get.”

“Look, when you’re ten years old, any pretty girl in a long dress is a princess.” Zoë grumbled. “I like it, it makes me feel nostalgic. Oh, look. The dad’s come on.”

Billy choked on his caramel corn.

“What the hell is he wearing?” Billy asked.

“Very tight pants.” Zoë answered calmly.

“His kids are like fourteen years old, they don’t need to see their dad’s junk.” he shook his head. “For that matter, I don’t need to see their dad’s junk.”

“Hey, you can pick the next movie. For now, shut up and ignore dad’s pants.”

“Do we find out what ‘granmama’ thinks about her son’s pants?”

“No, they never show Granmama.” Zoë answered. “This show was on for a few years, but no one ever played the grandmother, she’s only referenced as an off-screen character.”

“No, no, no.” the father was saying, shaking his head.

“But papa, please listen. It simply isn’t proper to leave her all alone in the cold, not on Christmas!”

“I understand, my dears, believe me, I truly understand how you feel. I myself feel much the same, but we simply will have to bear through without her this year.”

“So there is no way you could take us to see her?” Margaret asked.

“What?” the man asked, stepping behind a chair.

“I know that there is much to do at the office, with the dreadful winter we’ve had…” she explained weakly. “…oh, I am so sorry I asked, papa.”

“Perhaps- well, perhaps we might be able to visit Granmama ourselves?” Cecile asked, clutching her hands hopefully. The father looked pained.

“Please, papa?” begged Cecile, “We would take the small sledge and be ever so careful.”

“Cece… oh, Cece, please stop this…” he said softly. “Your grandmother has been dead since Thanksgiving, you know that.”

Billy and Zoë both froze in place with disbelieving expressions. Billy held a piece of popcorn inches from his mouth, as all color drained from his face. Zoë stared, unbelieving at the screen. The characters continued their suddenly morbid conversation, oblivious to the reaction it had caused. Finally, Billy spoke.

“What?” he asked. “Did he really just say that?”

“I’ve watched this special every year since I was five.” Zoë said carefully. “I can recite most of it. They’ve never said that.”

“Maybe they put another cut on the DVD?” Billy suggested unsurely.

“But I’ve had this DVD for years. Cece and Margaret go out to an on-location shot that probably took half of the episode’s budget and get fake snow thrown at them.” Zoë explained, getting more insistent the longer she spoke. “Then papa pulls them out of the snow and they all go home and eat turkey and plum pudding and sing ‘Silent Night’.”

She shook her head.

“This—this would have freaked me out so bad as a kid! I mean, yeah, your mind glosses over little details when you’re a child so that when you go back and read something again when you’re older… but that—they can’t have killed off granmama! Not like that.”

Zoë set down the tin of mixed popcorn. The idea of eating caramel corn and watching old Christmas specials with Billy sounded like a lot of fun, but this show had quickly gotten really disturbing. She bit her lip and glanced at the television, even though she wasn’t really seeing it anymore. Zoë grabbed the remote and switched off the television, slamming the button as if to punish it for freaking her out. Billy frowned and rubbed the back of his neck thoughtfully.

“Yeah, that is pretty freaky.” he agreed. “This whole thing kinda reeks of internet creepypasta.” The pair of them shared a glance. Then they immediately started to roshambo. Zoë lost. She sighed and handed Billy the popcorn.

“Be right back…” she muttered, rising from the couch.

“I’ll make some cocoa.” Billy offered, though he made no motion other than eating more popcorn. “And put in a normal Christmas special.” Zoë nodded and left the room.

Zoë tapped rapidly on her spacebar to wake the desktop, then slid into the chair. The browser opened, and she pulled up google.

“Cecile and Margaret’s Christmas special”

she typed. A few links popped up, the wikipedia page and where to buy it on Amazon. She skimmed the wikipedia page for a reference to alternate endings, then went back to the search page and refined the search.

“Cecile and Margaret’s Christmas special alternate ending”

Now there was less than a page of results. The top one was the same wikipedia page again and the second was an only-slightly sketchy forum on a fansite. Apparently there were fansites for cheap television from the eighties. Which means that there must be fansites for everything. And, knowing the internet, pornographic fanfiction for everything. Zoë decided not the stick around on the site too long before she found some poorly written pornography for her childhood memories. She checked the existing threads, and found someone recently talking about the Christmas special. Zoë read the replies hopefully, but found no reference to deleted scenes or alternate endings. She did, however, see someone linking to a story they’d written about Cece and Margaret sharing a more-than-sisterly kiss under the mistletoe. With a sigh, Zoë signed in as a guest and wrote a reply to the thread.

zoebandgirl wrote: Hey, I was just watching the Christmas special a minute ago and I think there’s something wrong my with DVD. Has anybody seen a version where they say granmama died? There was this bit about “not leaving granmama in the cold” and then papa says that’s she’s been dead since thanksgiving???

I never remembered this when I was watching it as a kid. Is this like an outtake or an alternate ending or something? Can anyone else find this on their DVDs?

As uncomfortable as she felt giving the site her email, she set it to send her an email if a reply was posted. It wasn’t likely that anyone was going to read that reply, much less have an answer for her.

But as long as she was on the computer, she might as well check her facebook, try and get that stupid Christmas achievement on Farmville, clear her notifications, and see what that email she got while she was on Farmville was. She’d gotten a reply already.

jackie_campbell wrote: Hello, I’m Jacqueline Campbell, the writer of Cece and Margaret’s Christmas special. I have some information about the “It simply isn’t proper to leave her all alone in the cold”. version. Could you send me a private message? I don’t want to discuss this in the main thread.

Zoë bit her lip indecisively. This could either clear things up quickly, or this could be someone really sketchy about to send her copious amounts of unwanted pornography. This was the internet, it could go either way. Well, at least he probably couldn’t give her computer a virus, unless he tried to get her download something. Well, if he sent a link to where to download the “full original episode”, she wouldn’t, but she would be interested in finding out what was going on with the Dead Granmother version, as she was now calling the cut of the show she’d just seen. Anyway, the name Jacqueline Cambell did sound familiar. She was pretty sure she’d seen it in the credits, but given that it was the credits she never really paid attention. The idea of chatting with someone who wrote the Christmas episode of one of her favorite television shows growing up was pretty appealing. It could be him, why would someone hang around on a fansite pretending to be a writer from the show? Other than to ask people to send them private messages and then replying with viruses and porn, of course. On the other hand… Zoë reread her post. She hadn’t used the exact phrase “It simply isn’t proper to leave her all alone in the cold.”, but that was what Cecile had said in the version she saw just then. Whether or not she was actually talking to the writer, she was definitely talking to someone who had seen that version of Cece and Margaret’s Christmas special. Zoë shrugged and opened a new window to send “jackie_campbell” a message.

zoebandgirl wrote: why don’t you want to talk about this in the main thread? is there two versions of the Christmas special?

Zoë wondered if she should call Billy in, given how close she was to answering the question, but thought better of it. She’d call for Billy when she actually had an answer. After all, there was still nothing guaranteeing that this “jackie_campbell” was actually the writer or if he’d have any insight as to why the Christmas special wasn’t the way she remembered it. The computer pinged out a single automated note. Apparently she’d gotten a message. Zoë opened her inbox, where she found a single sentence.

jackie_campbell wrote: Do you believe in ghosts?

Meanwhile, Billy had returned to the kitchen to rinse the caked marshmallows from the bottom of his mug. It always seemed like a good idea to put that many in his cocoa before he started drinking it, but when he reached the mess of sticky brown gunk out the bottom of his mug, he vowed never to put that many marshmallows in his coco. In fact, he’d stop having any marshmallows in. What’s more, Billy promised himself to stop drinking cocoa entirely. He did this for every mug of cocoa, and yet always put in too many marshmallows in the next mug.

Suddenly, Billy heard the television playing in the next room over.

“…I simply hate to think of her alone on Christmas.”

“Oh, no! Papa’s far too busy! What with all the snow, he has too work extra, extra hard, he doesn’t have any time to And how would we ever get her back?”

“No, you’re right, Cece, you’re right. Although… we could—possibly—make our way to her home by ourselves?”

“Oh no, Margaret! How could we possibly?”

That’s odd, Billy thought. I could have sworn I turned off the T.V.

Billy ran hot water into his mug and set it in the bottom of the sink to soak. He moved away from the sink and toward the living room, wondering why he was tiptoeing through his dorm. There was no one in right now except him and Zoë, and Zoë was over at the computer. Who was he worried about disturbing?

“No no, Cece, please, do forgot I said anything.”

“We shall simply have to do our very best to spread some cheer without her for papa’s sake; shan’t we Cece?”

zoebandgirl wrote: what do you mean? like dead people acting not so dead ghosts?

jackie_campbell wrote: Yes, that’s what ghosts are. At least I think so. Do you believe in them?

zoebandgirl wrote: …i’ve never really thought about it before, to be honest. i guess. i don’t NOT believe in them, there’s a bunch of stuff we are only just discovering and understanding, so who’s to say there’s stuff we don’t understand yet. what does this have to do with the two versions of the christmas special?

jackie_campbell wrote: This is going to sound crazy, but bear with me.

In his stocking feet, Billy padded into the living room. He watched the television cautiously, slightly unnerved by the way his mind kept insisting that he’d turned off the television before this. The young women continued their dance on the papier-mâché set, lace-encrusted costuming swinging. It was odd, he was sure they’d seen this part before, the DVD must have skipped and started over from the beginning.

“Yes, Margaret. We simply shall.”

“Oh, Cece! Papa’s returned!”

“Papa!”

“Merry Christmas, my dears.”

Zoë, meanwhile, kept reading Jackie Campbell’s response. She wasn’t sure what to make of it, because even if this person was who she said she was, then she was a writer capable of pulling a cohesive story out of nothing. It would technically answer Zoë’s question, though.

jackie_campbell wrote: In the eighties, I was a young writer trying to get a script finished so it could get to the editors in time to get to the actors in time to get to the film cutters in time to get to the TV station in time. It was stressful, and it made me think about Christmas in September, which I really didn’t want to do. And to make matters worse, I was living in a terrible little flat in an old house in a part of town I did not want to be living in. But I stayed there. You’re probably too young, you don’t know what housing was like in the eighties. You took what you could get, even if you were white, male, old, and steadily employed. Which I wasn’t. Frankly, I think the only reason I could afford to live there at that point was because the place had a reputation to be haunted. Now, at the time, I didn’t believe in ghosts, but after a while, I started hearing these voices upstairs, two girls and an older man.

“Margaret’s had an idea, papa. You’re so busy with work, perhaps she and I could go to see granmama ourselves?”

“No, no, no.”

Billy put his hands on the back of the sofa, looking at the bowl of caramel corn on the seat. He wasn’t sure why he wanted to watch this again, it was terrible the first time, and on top of that it was creepy and he didn’t like it at all.

jackie_campbell wrote: I had heard this same conversation over and over again for the past two months, and I had a page of script to fill to make it up to the full half hour. They weren’t too much like the characters on the show, but while you’re lying in bed trying to get to sleep and you keep hearing the same conversation over and over you get so that you can recite it to yourself. With voices, which really wasn’t necessary for a scriptwriter, but I digress.

Billy moved in front of the television. This was very weird. It looked like the scene had started all over again. The father in the really tight pants had come on screen again, shaking his head just like he’d done before. Like he’d done every time Zoë had watched this special growing up, every time he walked into the parlor and didn’t want to listen to his daughters.

“But papa, please listen. It simply isn’t proper to leave her all alone in the cold, not on Christmas!”

“I understand, my dears, believe me, I truly understand how you feel. I myself feel much the same, but we simply will have to bear through without her this year.”

“So there is no way you could take us to see her?”

“What?”

jackie_campbell wrote: I never expected most of it to get through editing. I left out the part about the dead grandmother anyway, that was a huge story decision I couldn’t make even if it were appropriate for our intended audience. Most of the original dialogue was changed, and I couldn’t help but notice that Cece’s actress got the line about Margaret having an idea wrong every time. In my version of the script, and the version I kept hearing at night, she said “Margaret’s had an idea, papa.” and the actress kept saying “Margaret, tell papa your idea.”

This was definitely the same scene. If the DVD hadn’t skipped, then maybe something hit the remote and made the scene start playing again. But Billy was so sure he’d turned off the television.

“I know that there is much to do at the office, with the dreadful winter we’ve had…” she explained weakly. “…oh, I am so sorry I asked, papa.”

“Perhaps- well, perhaps we might be able to visit Granmama ourselves?”

zoebandgirl wrote: why would they keep saying that over and over?

jackie_campbell wrote: That’s just something some ghosts do, I guess. I’m really not an expert in any sense, but I did look into hauntings a little while I was living there. Apparently there’s different kinds of ghosts. Some just look like balls of light, some are people walking around and having normal conversations as if they aren’t dead at all, and there apparently a kind of ghost that just does the same thing over and over. Which is what I think I had at my place.

zoebandgirl wrote: I don’t get why they’d do that

jackie_campbell wrote: Maybe it just feels familiar. Maybe they’ve been doing it so long they feel they have to. Maybe they’re stuck in the same track of a record because that’s where they’ve always been. If they have the same conversation every night, they keep having it because they always have. It’s circular, but we do the same kind of thing while we’re alive, just not to this extent.

“Please, papa?” begged Cecile, “We would take the small sledge and be ever so careful.”

“Cece… oh, Cece, please stop this…” he said softly. “Your grandmother has been dead since Thanksgiving, you know that.”

Billy moved closer to the television, stopping just within arm’s range. He’d been expecting it this time, but that line ran a shiver down his spine again. What kind of messed up show was this, with people turning up dead at Christmas.

zoebandgirl wrote: this is all really weird.

jackie_campbell wrote: I’m not denying that. The conversation was pretty weird even if it wasn’t ghosts. It always stopped in the same place. I think there must have been another person there, at least when the had the conversation for the first time, because there’s this little pause, and then the two girls speak at the same time. That part always confused me. It didn’t make sense with everything else they were saying.

zoebandgirl wrote: what do they say?

jackie_campbell wrote: Just two words.

Billy moved his hand toward the button to turn the screen off. Just then, the girls looked directly at the camera, their eyes wide and their expressions flat. As one, they parted their lips and spoke.

“Hello, Billy.”

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No, this isn’t the same story as last year, just the same exposition

Billy and Zoë were always said to be good kids, not getting in fights, making the sports team, honor roll, debate team, cheer squad, chorus and band. Both moderately popular jacks-of-all-trades, they managed to make prom king and queen even though they were just friends, and got scholarships to the same college. Billy played sports year round, but managed to talk about other things, mainly debating, singing or playing clarinet. Well, not when he was doing those things, as they involved his mouth. He had a tall, muscular build, his features seemingly mismatched. He had soccer legs and basketball feet, baseball arms on a football torso, which his head was thankfully not too small for, his white blond hair contrasting with his frequently red face. Zoë’s body, however, seemed more perfectly constructed. She had toasted mocha skin and shiny black hair, large brown eyes, long willowy arms and legs rippling with muscles and small, athletic breasts that did not get in the way when she cheered, played the flute, lacrosse, tennis or cricket. Both frequently smiled, especially when the life-long friends found out they were going to college together.

“It simply shan’t be Christmas without granmama!”

“No, no! It simply, simply shant!”

Two young women, roughly sixteen and fourteen, wrung their hands as they sat in their parlour. Their embroidery had been cast aside, and there was a tea service waiting by the dark haired sister’s chair.

“There’s no way that we could come to her? Bear her our gifts and some nice pudding for the holiday? I simply hate to think of her alone on Christmas.”

“Oh, no! Papa’s far too busy! What with all the snow, he has too work extra, extra hard, he doesn’t have any time to And how would we ever get her back?”

“No, you’re right, Cece, you’re right. Although… we could—possibly—make our way to her home by ourselves?”

“Oh no, Margaret! How could we possibly?”

“No no, Cece, please, do forgot I said anything.” The fair-haired girl took her sister’s hands in her own and looked her earnestly in the eye.

“We shall simply have to do our very best to spread some cheer without her for papa’s sake; shan’t we Cece?”

“Yes, Margaret. We simply shall.”

Billy leaned over to his friend, eyes glued to the television and wearing an expression between bemusement and dismay.

“Zoë, what the fuck are we watching?” he asked.

“It’s Cecile and Margaret’s Christmas Special, and I watch it every year.” Zoë answered matter-of-factly, popping a kernel of caramel corn in her mouth.

“Why?” Billy asked.

“Because I watch it every year.”

“Do you like it?”

“It’s tradition!” Zoë shrugged, passing Billy the tin. He accepted it and shoveled a handful into his mouth, unable to look away from the screen.

“That’s not what I asked.”

“If you’re gonna be like that, I’ll have that caramel corn back.” Zoë retorted, pulling the tin from her friend’s hands. “I’m the one who got it in the dorm Yankee swap, anyway.”

“Yeah, and I’m the one who bought it for the dorm swap. Well, I bought one of them. Why does everyone buy mixed popcorn for Yankee swaps?”

“Because they secretly hope they’ll get it.”

Onscreen, the slightly oversaturated film showed the two young women fretfully trying to figure out what they could do with their hands while being filmed, because it appeared neither of them actually knew how to sew.

“Oh, Cece!” the fair-haired Margaret cried, they seemed to cry everything, flinging their hands around. Billy wasn’t sure if that was a directing choice or they were just really bad actresses.

“When was this made?” Billy asked, cocking his head.

“Early eighties, can’t you tell by the makeup?”

“Yeah, I noticed that… regency clothing, eighties makeup.” Billy nodded. “So what’s with the cardboard fireplace?”

“Low budget.” Zoë answered.

“So why do you watch it?”

“I told you, I watch it because watch it every year.”
“So… you watch it because you watch it?”

“Look, I liked ‘Cece and Margaret’ when I was a little kid, alright?” Zoë said defensively. “Little girls at Christmastime with long pretty dresses like a princess.”

“Didn’t the DVD box say it was set in eighteen thirteen? Wasn’t that during that war of ‘we told you, we don’t want no stinkin’ monarchy’? That sounds about as far from a princess as you can get.”

“Look, when you’re ten years old, any pretty girl in a long dress is a princess.” Zoë grumbled. “I like it, it makes me feel nostalgic. Oh, look. The dad’s come on.”

Billy choked on his caramel corn.

“What the hell is he wearing?” Billy asked.

“Very tight pants.” Zoë answered calmly.

“His kids are like fourteen years old, they don’t need to see their dad’s junk.” he shook his head. “For that matter, I don’t need to see their dad’s junk.”

“Hey, you can pick the next movie. For now, shut up and ignore dad’s pants.”

“Do we find out what ‘granmama’ thinks about her son’s pants?”

“No, they never show Granmama.” Zoë answered. “This show was on for a few years, but no one ever played the grandmother, she’s only referenced as an off-screen character.”

“No, no, no.” the father was saying, shaking his head.

“But papa, please listen. It simply isn’t proper to leave her all alone in the cold, not on Christmas!”

“I understand, my dears, believe me, I truly understand how you feel. I myself feel much the same, but we simply will have to bear through without her this year.”

“So there is no way you could take us to see her?” Margaret asked.

“What?” the man asked, stepping behind a chair.

“I know that there is much to do at the office, with the dreadful winter we’ve had…” she explained weakly. “…oh, I am so sorry I asked, papa.”

“Perhaps- well, perhaps we might be able to visit Granmama ourselves?” Cecile asked, clutching her hands hopefully. The father looked pained.

“Please, papa?” begged Cecile, “We would take the small sledge and be ever so careful.”

“Cece… oh, Cece, please stop this…” he said softly. “Your grandmother has been dead since Thanksgiving, you know that.”

Billy and Zoë both froze in place with disbelieving expressions. Billy held a piece of popcorn inches from his mouth, as all color drained from his face. Zoë stared, unbelieving at the screen. The characters continued their suddenly morbid conversation, oblivious to the reaction it had caused. Finally, Billy spoke.

“What?” he asked. “Did he really just say that?”

“I’ve watched this special every year since I was five.” Zoë said carefully. “I can recite most of it. They’ve never said that.”

“Maybe they put another cut on the DVD?” Billy suggested unsurely.

“But I’ve had this DVD for years. Cece and Margaret go out to an on-location shot that probably took half of the episode’s budget and get fake snow thrown at them.” Zoë explained, getting more insistent the longer she spoke. “Then papa pulls them out of the snow and they all go home and eat turkey and plum pudding and sing ‘Silent Night’.”

She shook her head.

“This—this would have freaked me out so bad as a kid! I mean, yeah, your mind glosses over little details when you’re a child so that when you go back and read something again when you’re older… but that—they can’t have killed off granmama! Not like that.”

Zoë set down the tin of mixed popcorn. The idea of eating caramel corn and watching old Christmas specials with Billy sounded like a lot of fun, but this show had quickly gotten really disturbing. She bit her lip and glanced at the television, even though she wasn’t really seeing it anymore. Zoë grabbed the remote and switched off the television, slamming the button as if to punish it for freaking her out. Billy frowned and rubbed the back of his neck thoughtfully.

“Yeah, that is pretty freaky.” he agreed. “This whole thing kinda reeks of internet creepypasta.” The pair of them shared a glance. Then they immediately started to roshambo. Zoë lost. She sighed and handed Billy the popcorn.

“Be right back…” she muttered, rising from the couch.

“I’ll make some cocoa.” Billy offered, though he made no motion other than eating more popcorn. “And put in a normal Christmas special.” Zoë nodded and left the room.

Zoë tapped rapidly on her spacebar to wake the desktop, then slid into the chair. The browser opened, and she pulled up google.

“Cecile and Margaret’s Christmas special”

she typed. A few links popped up, the wikipedia page and where to buy it on Amazon. She skimmed the wikipedia page for a reference to alternate endings, then went back to the search page and refined the search.

“Cecile and Margaret’s Christmas special alternate ending”

Now there was less than a page of results. The top one was the same wikipedia page again and the second was an only-slightly sketchy forum on a fansite. Apparently there were fansites for cheap television from the eighties. Which means that there must be fansites for everything. And, knowing the internet, pornographic fanfiction for everything. Zoë decided not the stick around on the site too long before she found some poorly written pornography for her childhood memories. She checked the existing threads, and found someone recently talking about the Christmas special. Zoë read the replies hopefully, but found no reference to deleted scenes or alternate endings. She did, however, see someone linking to a story they’d written about Cece and Margaret sharing a more-than-sisterly kiss under the mistletoe. With a sigh, Zoë signed in as a guest and wrote a reply to the thread.

zoebandgirl wrote: Hey, I was just watching the Christmas special a minute ago and I think there’s something wrong my with DVD. Has anybody seen a version where they say granmama died? There was this bit about “not leaving granmama in the cold” and then papa says that’s she’s been dead since thanksgiving???

I never remembered this when I was watching it as a kid. Is this like an outtake or an alternate ending or something? Can anyone else find this on their DVDs?

As uncomfortable as she felt giving the site her email, she set it to send her an email if a reply was posted. It wasn’t likely that anyone was going to read that reply, much less have an answer for her.

But as long as she was on the computer, she might as well check her facebook, try and get that stupid Christmas achievement on Farmville, clear her notifications, and see what that email she got while she was on Farmville was. She’d gotten a reply already.

jackie_campbell wrote: Hello, I’m Jacqueline Campbell, the writer of Cece and Margaret’s Christmas special. I have some information about the “It simply isn’t proper to leave her all alone in the cold”. version. Could you send me a private message? I don’t want to discuss this in the main thread.

Zoë bit her lip indecisively. This could either clear things up quickly, or this could be someone really sketchy about to send her copious amounts of unwanted pornography. This was the internet, it could go either way. Well, at least he probably couldn’t give her computer a virus, unless he tried to get her download something. Well, if he sent a link to where to download the “full original episode”, she wouldn’t, but she would be interested in finding out what was going on with the Dead Granmother version, as she was now calling the cut of the show she’d just seen. Anyway, the name Jacqueline Cambell did sound familiar. She was pretty sure she’d seen it in the credits, but given that it was the credits she never really paid attention. The idea of chatting with someone who wrote the Christmas episode of one of her favorite television shows growing up was pretty appealing. It could be him, why would someone hang around on a fansite pretending to be a writer from the show? Other than to ask people to send them private messages and then replying with viruses and porn, of course. On the other hand… Zoë reread her post. She hadn’t used the exact phrase “It simply isn’t proper to leave her all alone in the cold.”, but that was what Cecile had said in the version she saw just then. Whether or not she was actually talking to the writer, she was definitely talking to someone who had seen that version of Cece and Margaret’s Christmas special. Zoë shrugged and opened a new window to send “jackie_campbell” a message.

zoebandgirl wrote: why don’t you want to talk about this in the main thread? is there two versions of the Christmas special?

Zoë wondered if she should call Billy in, given how close she was to answering the question, but thought better of it. She’d call for Billy when she actually had an answer. After all, there was still nothing guaranteeing that this “jackie_campbell” was actually the writer or if he’d have any insight as to why the Christmas special wasn’t the way she remembered it. The computer pinged out a single automated note. Apparently she’d gotten a message. Zoë opened her inbox, where she found a single sentence.

jackie_campbell wrote: Do you believe in ghosts?

Meanwhile, Billy had returned to the kitchen to rinse the caked marshmallows from the bottom of his mug. It always seemed like a good idea to put that many in his cocoa before he started drinking it, but when he reached the mess of sticky brown gunk out the bottom of his mug, he vowed never to put that many marshmallows in his coco. In fact, he’d stop having any marshmallows in. What’s more, Billy promised himself to stop drinking cocoa entirely. He did this for every mug of cocoa, and yet always put in too many marshmallows in the next mug.

Suddenly, Billy heard the television playing in the next room over.

“…I simply hate to think of her alone on Christmas.”

“Oh, no! Papa’s far too busy! What with all the snow, he has too work extra, extra hard, he doesn’t have any time to And how would we ever get her back?”

“No, you’re right, Cece, you’re right. Although… we could—possibly—make our way to her home by ourselves?”

“Oh no, Margaret! How could we possibly?”

That’s odd, Billy thought. I could have sworn I turned off the T.V.

Billy ran hot water into his mug and set it in the bottom of the sink to soak. He moved away from the sink and toward the living room, wondering why he was tiptoeing through his dorm. There was no one in right now except him and Zoë, and Zoë was over at the computer. Who was he worried about disturbing?

“No no, Cece, please, do forgot I said anything.”

“We shall simply have to do our very best to spread some cheer without her for papa’s sake; shan’t we Cece?”

zoebandgirl wrote: what do you mean? like dead people acting not so dead ghosts?

jackie_campbell wrote: Yes, that’s what ghosts are. At least I think so. Do you believe in them?

zoebandgirl wrote: …i’ve never really thought about it before, to be honest. i guess. i don’t NOT believe in them, there’s a bunch of stuff we are only just discovering and understanding, so who’s to say there’s stuff we don’t understand yet. what does this have to do with the two versions of the christmas special?

jackie_campbell wrote: This is going to sound crazy, but bear with me.

In his stocking feet, Billy padded into the living room. He watched the television cautiously, slightly unnerved by the way his mind kept insisting that he’d turned off the television before this. The young women continued their dance on the papier-mâché set, lace-encrusted costuming swinging. It was odd, he was sure they’d seen this part before, the DVD must have skipped and started over from the beginning.

“Yes, Margaret. We simply shall.”

“Oh, Cece! Papa’s returned!”

“Papa!”

“Merry Christmas, my dears.”

Zoë, meanwhile, kept reading Jackie Campbell’s response. She wasn’t sure what to make of it, because even if this person was who she said she was, then she was a writer capable of pulling a cohesive story out of nothing. It would technically answer Zoë’s question, though.

jackie_campbell wrote: In the eighties, I was a young writer trying to get a script finished so it could get to the editors in time to get to the actors in time to get to the film cutters in time to get to the TV station in time. It was stressful, and it made me think about Christmas in September, which I really didn’t want to do. And to make matters worse, I was living in a terrible little flat in an old house in a part of town I did not want to be living in. But I stayed there. You’re probably too young, you don’t know what housing was like in the eighties. You took what you could get, even if you were white, male, old, and steadily employed. Which I wasn’t. Frankly, I think the only reason I could afford to live there at that point was because the place had a reputation to be haunted. Now, at the time, I didn’t believe in ghosts, but after a while, I started hearing these voices upstairs, two girls and an older man.

“Margaret’s had an idea, papa. You’re so busy with work, perhaps she and I could go to see granmama ourselves?”

“No, no, no.”

Billy put his hands on the back of the sofa, looking at the bowl of caramel corn on the seat. He wasn’t sure why he wanted to watch this again, it was terrible the first time, and on top of that it was creepy and he didn’t like it at all.

jackie_campbell wrote: I had heard this same conversation over and over again for the past two months, and I had a page of script to fill to make it up to the full half hour. They weren’t too much like the characters on the show, but while you’re lying in bed trying to get to sleep and you keep hearing the same conversation over and over you get so that you can recite it to yourself. With voices, which really wasn’t necessary for a scriptwriter, but I digress.

Billy moved in front of the television. This was very weird. It looked like the scene had started all over again. The father in the really tight pants had come on screen again, shaking his head just like he’d done before. Like he’d done every time Zoë had watched this special growing up, every time he walked into the parlor and didn’t want to listen to his daughters.

“But papa, please listen. It simply isn’t proper to leave her all alone in the cold, not on Christmas!”

“I understand, my dears, believe me, I truly understand how you feel. I myself feel much the same, but we simply will have to bear through without her this year.”

“So there is no way you could take us to see her?”

“What?”

jackie_campbell wrote: I never expected most of it to get through editing. I left out the part about the dead grandmother anyway, that was a huge story decision I couldn’t make even if it were appropriate for our intended audience. Most of the original dialogue was changed, and I couldn’t help but notice that Cece’s actress got the line about Margaret having an idea wrong every time. In my version of the script, and the version I kept hearing at night, she said “Margaret’s had an idea, papa.” and the actress kept saying “Margaret, tell papa your idea.”

This was definitely the same scene. If the DVD hadn’t skipped, then maybe something hit the remote and made the scene start playing again. But Billy was so sure he’d turned off the television.

“I know that there is much to do at the office, with the dreadful winter we’ve had…” she explained weakly. “…oh, I am so sorry I asked, papa.”

“Perhaps- well, perhaps we might be able to visit Granmama ourselves?”

zoebandgirl wrote: why would they keep saying that over and over?

jackie_campbell wrote: That’s just something some ghosts do, I guess. I’m really not an expert in any sense, but I did look into hauntings a little while I was living there. Apparently there’s different kinds of ghosts. Some just look like balls of light, some are people walking around and having normal conversations as if they aren’t dead at all, and there apparently a kind of ghost that just does the same thing over and over. Which is what I think I had at my place.

zoebandgirl wrote: I don’t get why they’d do that

jackie_campbell wrote: Maybe it just feels familiar. Maybe they’ve been doing it so long they feel they have to. Maybe they’re stuck in the same track of a record because that’s where they’ve always been. If they have the same conversation every night, they keep having it because they always have. It’s circular, but we do the same kind of thing while we’re alive, just not to this extent.

“Please, papa?” begged Cecile, “We would take the small sledge and be ever so careful.”

“Cece… oh, Cece, please stop this…” he said softly. “Your grandmother has been dead since Thanksgiving, you know that.”

Billy moved closer to the television, stopping just within arm’s range. He’d been expecting it this time, but that line ran a shiver down his spine again. What kind of messed up show was this, with people turning up dead at Christmas.

zoebandgirl wrote: this is all really weird.

jackie_campbell wrote: I’m not denying that. The conversation was pretty weird even if it wasn’t ghosts. It always stopped in the same place. I think there must have been another person there, at least when the had the conversation for the first time, because there’s this little pause, and then the two girls speak at the same time. That part always confused me. It didn’t make sense with everything else they were saying.

zoebandgirl wrote: what do they say?

jackie_campbell wrote: Just two words.

Billy moved his hand toward the button to turn the screen off. Just then, the girls looked directly at the camera, their eyes wide and their expressions flat. As one, they parted their lips and spoke.

“Hello, Billy.”