2019-12-20 - When Christmas Trees Attack

James heard that All The Snow was going to fall directly atop of him, any second now. Given this news, there was only one thing to do: snack run, quick, before Snowpocalypse 2019: This Time It's Personal kicks off. And so there he goes, wearing a thick green hoodie, jeans, and over all of it, a very ill-fitting but otherwise lovely wool coat that is practically a trenchcoat on him. He wears it to ward off the cats. Ask him about it sometime. He's just spotted Gray Harbor's equivalent to a 7-11 (I'm guessing it's 6-66) and is heading in that direction when suddenly he witnesses the surprisingly festive denting of that hearse. "Ooh, dang, that one's gonna sting."

August is a PNW native, and if there's anything PNW natives learned from Snowpocalypse 2004, the Hanukkah Eve Storm, the Inaugural Day Storm, etc. it's that when the Pacific Coast radar says 'incoming', you buy stuff and hunker down. He's just coming out of said hardware store with a reusable canvas bag of necessities (batteries, CFLs, oil for the lamps), ready to head home with his hatchback full of groceries and gifts to wait out the weather when there is suddenly a Christmas tree landing on a hearse. The record scratch in his mind is audible.

"Fuck," he hisses under his breath. He's in black, down-filled snow jacket, heavy duty hiking boots, denim jeans, an angora and fleece cap, and a heavy wool scarf. No way is the weather catching this old guy off guard. He heads over to the hearse to see if the occupant's okay, mindful of ornament detritus.

It is distasteful to blare Rage Against The Machine from a hearse carrying a decedent. So Beth plays it low enough that it can't be heard outside of the car. What would Mrs. Betty Irving, 79 years old, think of Killing In The Name Of?

That's between Mrs. Irving and her creator now.

Beth stops at the red light and taps her hand along with the song. It turns green and she accelerates gently because one does not rush about or speed in a hearse. She starts singing along with the song.

"Huh! Killing in the name of-FUCK!!" She slams on her breaks as that tree comes hurdling at the hearse but apparently funeral directors do not wear seat belts in hearses, either. She is thrown forward and bashes her face on the steering wheel. Her glasses break. The broken plastic cuts her under her eye. She is showered with safety glass as star and all crashes through her windshield. The hearse is stopped in the middle of the street.

Lyric had to get a gift and now that she has it tucked away nicely in a bag over her arm, she comes back outside the Five and Dime. Or the Dollar Store, whatever. Dressed in jeans with tears in them but leggings beneath and a sweatshirt that says I'm With The Band on the front of it. Over that is a parka but it was left open and whips back and forth in the wind. As does her hair, over her eyes. She nearly crashes into Abby, a hand running into her before Lyric almost does. "Sorry!"

Abby is still clutching her non-raspberry beret as the tree slams loudly into the hood, glass crunching loudly. She flinches. "Oh boy." Christmas-themed shopping bag in hand, she twists around to stare at Lyric for a second, flashing a small smile in recognition. "No worries!" And then she starts hurrying towards the crash itself. All around her, the ground is strewn with glass and decorations. Look, little silver screws. Her feet almost get tangled in tinsel on her way there. Fortunately, she's rather sensibly dressed in a plaid flannel jacket over a t-shirt and jeans, warm boots on her feet, making it easy to step past and kick away all the little festive hazards.

"Hello! Are you okay? Can you hear me?" Abby leans in, knuckles tapping on the passenger side window as she peers in, trying to assess Beth's condition.

James watches as a single Christmas ornament, miraculously unshattered, rolls from the site of the accident down towards him. Roll roll roll until it stops right at his feet. It happens to be a promotional ornament that was being given away by the town a year or two ago that has the words 'Have a Merry Gray Harbor Christmas!' on them. He sighs, and snorts. "... this fucking town.", he mutters, before quickening his pace to see if the number of corpses in that hearse just went up. Seeing other people who he rightly assumes are more capable than him rushing over though, he slows his roll, potential heroism neatly diverted to simple, basic, rubbernecking.

August trails behind Abby, wincing and swallowing as he gets closer to the car. "Don't think she's too bad...maybe, hit her head." He stops sensing it, because he's going to get nauseated and throw up. Instead he looks over his shoulder, spies James and Lyric. "Call 911," he says, because he promised Alexander he would stop healing every damned person he came across. Are you watching, Alexander? See, he told someone to call 911!

Beth lifts her head after a moment and sort of pats at her face as if clumsily surveying the damages. This just smears some of the blood from the cut on her face around and completely knocks her glasses off of her face. She reaches for the key to the hearse, and turns off the ignition before she opens the door. "Phone..." She says, and she turns to begin searching for her phone. Which turns out to be kind of hard when your vision is impaired and you possibly have a concussion. "...I need my phone...Mrs. Irving..."

Meanwhile Mrs. Irving is chilling out on the cot in the back looking just as dead as she was before the tree crashed into the hearse.

Lyric isn't a healer, but she is worried! Hurrying over after Beth and August, she only pauses when she's close and calls 911. Making the report, she hangs up and just looks worried. "I called them." She peeks at Beth, but not the body in the back. She doesn't even look to see if there is a body back there! August is here though, "That tree is so huge." Abby is with the hospital, so she's the one looked to about Beth's injuries.

Abby helps open the door all the way, glancing back over her shoulder at August with the mildest of wary frowns once she identifies him, followed by a nod of acknowledgment. After setting down her shopping bag, she returns her attention to Beth, reaching out to gently lay a warm hand atop hers. "Hey, Beth, it's Abby! From down the street? I'll help look for your phone, or I can call anyone that needs to be called, but... let me look at you first, okay? You look fine, but you did kinda hit your head there a little bit, so you could have a concussion, at least. Are you feeling woozy?" She tries to squint into Beth's eyes and look at the woman's pupils. "Who's Mrs. Irving?"

Another gust of wind makes the tree rustle and blows ornaments, tinsel and unsecured belongings further down the street.

James starts fumbling for his phone as he hears those words from August, but then he spots Lyric making her own 911 call. No need to burden the system with multiple reports of the same incident, so he puts his phone back in his pocket and continues ambling on over. Saved once more from any kind of heroism on his part tonight, he instead approaches the hearse from the back, and peeks in through the window. And then goes pale, because he was expecting a coffin, not... Mrs. Irving. Just... there. Being dead. "Oh holy fucknuggets it's a stiff!" In a hearse. Truly, truly unexpected, James.

August returns the nod, wary himself. He remembers the present-eating elf situation, and more specifically, her reaction to it. He's reluctant to get up too close behind Abby and the injured Beth, but eventually convinces himself to do so, glancing around at the hearse's interior. Which is when James panics, and he starts himself, jerking back in surprise. It takes him a second to recover; once he has, he gives James a tired look, focuses on Abby and Beth. "If you need us to call someone to come get you, ah...passenger, we can do that," he adds, hoping it will help keep Beth from fighting Abby on the whole 'being attended to' thing. "Just let her get you sorted first."

Beth's head lifts when she hears Abby speak, but the response is delayed. She stares in her face for a moment, as if letting those words really marinate, before she says with a slight slur, "...need to call dead. Dad. Call dad. Mrs. Irving is the dead lady in the back..." Just as she informs all of just who Mrs. Irving is James's exclamation rings out helpfully. "...not my dad. Dad's not dead." She looks ever so slightly confused at her own words. Her pupils are like two saucers. "...Oh, hi Abby...can we find..." She starts turning to continue looking for her phone, completely ignoring August's suggestion that she allow Abby to sort her out first. "Phone."

"Oh, that's Mrs. Irving!" Abby remarks with a glance at the back of the hearse once James freaks out. Her eyes dart to James, next, accompanied by a small smile. After a quick look to make sure Mrs. Irving is, indeed, dead, the nurse continues, dismissing it entirely as her attention focuses on Beth. "I'm pretty sure Mrs. Irving's not in any hurry to get anywhere. She'll be fine back there for a little bit," she assures the woman in a soothing, light-hearted voice.

She does take out her own phone, which not only allows her to scroll through Google, but also briefly shine a light in Beth's eyes. "Where were you going?" she asks calmly, crawling halfway into the passenger seat of the hearse to get a closer look at the cut under Beth's eye. "That doesn't look too bad, but it'll need to get looked at." Then she starts to look around, briefly scanning the seats and the floor to look for the phone. "I can call the funeral home, if you'd like."

James catches those looks from August and Abby, and he gives a sheepish half-smile as he backs away from the car. "Err, sorry. Wasn't expecting- I mean, not in a coffin, like.", he hurriedly fails to half-explain. "Should I-", James says, pointing at the tree, then the hardware store. "-go tell the storefolk?"

Since Beth is focused on her phone, August starts peering around inside the car, on the ground by the driver's side door. "Help us find her phone," he says to James. Then, as an afterthought, "Get photos of the tree and where it fell from." He nods at Beth. "She might need them." Somewhere in the distance they can hear an ambulance siren on approach.

There is a purse in the floor of the passenger-side. A glance inside will reveal the sought after phone. Beth blinks when Abby shines the phone's light in her eyes. "Funeral home." She responds, and it seems like while it is taking her a while to answer she is able to. She starts to turn to begin looking for the phone herself, but she turns suddenly and opens the car door to retch out of it. "Uggghhh..." The phone in the purse starts ringing. A generic telephone ring. Thankfully it says Dad which means they don't need Beth to remember her passcode to get into the phone.

Abby can easily reach down to the floor and retrieve the phone. There's some grunting and contorting herself into an awkward position, but she gets it. Then it starts ringing. Abby is about to answer it when Beth turns away and leans out the car door. "Oh boy." Abby's thumb manages to hit the button to pick up the call, but the next thing she does is shove the phone into August's hands with the call already in progress. Look, he's nearby and trying to be helpful, and Abby is trying to hold back Beth's hair and tuck her own phone away at the same time, she only has so many hands. Two. She has two hands. That anyone here knows of. It's Gray Harbor.

Two whole hands? Fancy. James is about to start looking for the phone- maybe it's under the car? -when it is swiftly found by Abby. Once again, foiled at any attempt at heroism. Goddamn, James, you are just On-Brand (tm) tonight. But wait, there was a second part to that, wasn't there? Oh, right. Pictures. He fumbles his phone out again. "Pictures, right, pictures." And then he sets about snapping quick pics of, well, everything.

August makes a sound and pulls back when Beth throws up, barely manages to not slip and fall on an ornament that he steps on. He's just recovering against the passenger car door when Abby hands him a call-in-progress from...Dad. "Mr. Lawson?" he says. "My name is August Roen, your daughter's been in a car accident."

The sirens draw closer, lending at least some credence to August's claim. He watches James take the pictures. Someone from the hardware store is looking out from a window, on their smartphone as well, looking panicked. Yes James, photograph away.

As soon as the phone is picked up and pressed to August's ear an older man is already talking, "Well I really fubbed up Christmas this time your mom found out I got her a carpet cleaner because you know she's been complaining cause Howie has been pissing all over our carpets and she's pissed off now-" This continues until August speaks, and he realizes this is definitely not Beth. "...Well, is she okay?"

Beth, meanwhile, is leaning out of the car making all of the groans, moans, and retching noises one makes while vomiting. "...Why is some guy taking pictures?" She asks, like clearly James is just some creeper and not trying to be helpful.

"I bet the hardware store is gonna pay you a lotta money." Lyric tells Beth while not listening to her vomit cause she would probably do the same. "Is Beth okay?" Looking from Abby to August, then James taking the pictures. She collects Abby's bag and holds onto it for her for now.

Abby must have missed part of the conversation, becuase she lifts her head to give James a puzzled look, before continuing to talk to Beth, one hand helpfully securing her in place, just in case the other woman passes out, the other helpfully keeping clothes and hair out of the way of any stray vomit. "I don't know. Maybe it's for social media likes. I'm sure it's a very interesting picture, with the Christmas tree and everything! It'll be good for insurance, though, I'll ask him to send them to you..." she chats away in a calm voice, like everything is just peachy, casually, oh so casually, checking Beth's pulse. "You'll have to rest for a while, a little holiday over the holidays. They'll tell you at the hospital, but I'm pretty sure." She looks back over at Lyric and smiles. "It's just a concussion, she'll be fine. Thanks for the 911 call!"

James is definitely some creeper, but he's also trying to be helpful. He can be both! Because he believes in himself. Creep. Fake smartphone camera shutter sound. Creep. Fake smartphone camera shutter sound. Some of the shots are actually half-decent and will probably serve to document the accident. And the others are tree-accident selfies.

August grimaces as Mr. Lawson begins to talk about Howie and carpet cleaners and something about Christmas being ruined. But thankfully, that stops. "We've got someone here says it's a concussion. We called 911 to send her to the hospital." He clears his throat, eyeing the back of the hearse. "The, ah, passenger of the vehicle, Mrs. Irving? She's fine," you know except for how she's dead, "but someone will probably need to come get her out of the vehicle. I'm not sure it's driveable."

"I'm glad she is gonna be okay." Lyric tells Abby and watches James a moment before photo bombing and getting into one of his pictures deliberately. She grins at him, but then she realizes what August is saying. She looks at the car. "Is there a pass.." Then towards the back and widens her eyes. "She's getting to go joyriding." There's no laughing or joking tone.

"What Christmas Tree?" Beth wonders aloud as she sits up before she sort of just leans half against Abby and half against her seat. It's then that she notices the Christmas tree through her windshield. "What the fuck." She whispers. Then Abby suggests she'll have a break over Christmas and she tenses up. "No." She states, like she will have a choice in the matter, "I have like...funerals. And so many...I have a lot of dead people right now. Just so many fucking dead people. My cooler is full." Hopefully no one disturbed by that idea overheard that.

There is an audible sigh of relief on the other end when August says it's just a concussion. "Alright. I'm on my way. Have the police come if you haven't called them, and give me the closest intersection."

"That Christmas tree," Abby helpfully points it out, scooting back slightly to help lean Beth more fully into the seat, though she stays close enough, just in case, tilting her head and squinting down the street on the lookout for thet ambulance. "If it's a concussion, you'll really need to rest. At least for a few days. Maybe not all the way through Christmas - but they'll tell you at the hospital. You won't want to work anyway," she assures the other woman with a friendly smile. She doesn't look in the least disturbed by coolers full of dead people, just concerned. "I'm sure someone can pick up the slack if you need it."

"Ah! Mrs. Irving's ghost!", James declares when Lyric pops into frame, with her white hair and all (classic ghostsign, the white hair). He then blinks down at the picture on his screen. "Looks a lot younger on film." He then looks up, and notices the actual Lyric standing and speaking, and relaxes. "Oh, sorry, thought you were-" And then he overhears Beth mentioning that she's just lousy with corpses. Disturbing, that. "-err, a ghost. I mean, nevermind, I just-" He pauses, then looks over to August. "Hey, who do I, like, send these to?"

A second set of sirens adds in behind the first: why yes, here comes a squad car, close behind the ambulance. "Looks like they're already here, Mr. Lawson." August gives him the intersection, adding, "In front of the hardware store," then hangs up. He leans in on the passenger side to drop Beth's phone into her purse. "Your dad's coming to pick up Mrs. Irving," he tells Beth, hoping it'll calm her down. Her comment about a full cooler has him grimacing at the same time James reacts. He glances back at James, to Beth and Abby. "I asked him to take some photos of the damage. This is the hardware store's tree, you want to make sure you've got documentation on what happened in case the insurance company tries to get shitty. Where do you want him to email them?" And look, if James slips some other, less savory photos in, well, this is what happens when you rely on the kindness of Gray Harbor strangers.

"Well, fuck." Beth states when Abby delivers the news that she probably won't be working. She does relax a little when August delivers the news that someone is coming to get poor Mrs. Irving. She turns her head to focus on August, and stares at him in a hazy manner as if she's trying to process what he says before she admits, "Um...I don't remember my email. but it's on the website." And then the ambulance is pulling up. She murmurs, "Um...thank you all."

James calls Lyric a ghost which just amuses the hell out of her. When he is busy asking about where to send the pictures, she comes up behind him, "Boo!" Not loud, I mean she's not completely without tact or anything. Turning as the ambulance arrives, she steps back to the sidewalk and shatters a glass ornament. There's a socket set and screwdriver set ornament and she just picks them up. Casualties of war. Hers. So she sets about looking for a socket wrench too. When she finds it, she keeps it too. "Mini tools," she announces. "Works on tiny things around the house. The screwdrivers will be good for glasses." She gets some for Abby too and puts them in her bag. "I got your bag Abby. At least we're not in an elevator this time."

Abby winces when James brings up a ghost, but it's a subtle thing, followed by a look at the man and another at the back of the hearse. Not that she's expecting to see any ghosts, but just in case. No, ghosts, and Mrs. Irving is still just lying there, none of those strange post-mortem phenomena, no twitching. That's reassuring. "It's fine. I'm going to talk to the paramedics," she tells Beth, very lightly pats her shoulder, then starts backing out of the hearse with a wiggle to slip out the passenger side. Once there, she looks for her bag on the ground, and flashes Lyric a wide smile once she notices the younger woman's holding onto her shopping. "Thank you! Just... watch out for elves," she adds, enigmatically. But first, the ambulance. She heads over to explain everything, in great detail. Very confident. Very professional. Guiding them over to Beth to be taken care of.

James is a goddamn gentleman, thankyouVERYmuch, and would never include less savory photos. That'd be a real dick move. He wrinkles his nose a bit as Beth says she doesn't remember her email, but perks at mention of the website. "Google-fu, don't fail me now." He starts up the browser on his phone, and in his mind srs h4ck3r music plays as he jacks in to the interwebs and hacks the Gibson. "... gray... harbor... corpsemobile...", he murmurs as he types in his search terms. And then Lyric is haunting him and he jumps- but just a little, and manages to keep hold of his phone. He narrows his eyes at her, suspicious- that was a convincing Boo, maybe she is a ghost. But as she flits off to loot the tree corpse, he hrms and goes back to his email-hunting. "Ok, here we go, think I've got it."

One corner of August's mouth twitches in morbid humor as he watches Lyric get to looting what she can before the hardware store employees sweep outside to begin cleaning up. They're stopped by the patrolmen, who want to get a look at things for their report, and so stand off to one side, wringing their hands. Someone is in deep shit.

August glances at James, who seems to have things in hand, and moves to talk to the cops. He'll put himself down as a witness; no need to bother Lyric or James with that. Who wants to be asked to provide witness statements if insurance shenangians result? No one.

Once the paramedics have spoken to Abby they get a cot out of the ambulance, and roll it over to the driver's side of the hearse to help Beth up and out of it. They then put her on it, strap her in, and roll her off towards the direction of the back of the ambulance to load her up. Soon enough they will take off with her.

The cops will remain after to guard over the hearse until Mr. Lawson arrives in a mini van. He then unloads Mrs. Irving, who has been very patient about the whole ordeal, and places her in the mini-van. He thanks anyone who remains and makes a joke about them probably not wanting coupons from them. Then he takes off with Mrs. Irving, and the hearse is towed away.

Saved by the August from a fate worse than present stealing elves. Maybe not fireproof Skeletors or adorable octopi, but definitely the present stealers. Which is probably Lyric as she stuffs little tools in Abby's bag also. She will have a surprise when she gets home. Lyric finds little pliers that go with her collection and adds those as well as a crescent wrench. "So cute!" she fawns over them. These are tools. She knows how to use tools. Not that she ever lets on about it. She can mechanic with the best of them! Kind of. "Awwwww!" A set of metric AND standard sockets, How convenient! Okay, she is finished. She looks over to see if Beth is being loaded yet. "Beth do you want baby tools too?" Hey, she'll take care of it for her.