Because Christmas Refuses To Save Itself. Again.

Across the Universe, people are walking through the door of their local bar, tavern, pub or other establishment at which you become hopelessly inebriated. Some come to remember, some come to forget, and some just want to spend the morning hanging out with the toilet bowl. But some, a chosen (and entirely randomly selected) few step through that door, and into the bar on the edge of the galaxy:

The Floating Vagabond.

It is in this strange place, after taking your first drink at the bar, that you meet an improbably character; a man with a pale face, dressed in the traditional robes of a priest, a turban, a scarlet bindi on his forehead, and a full-sized canoe across his back. He nods solemnly your way, and gestures for you to sit.

“I imagine that, being new in this parts, you don’t have a single rupee to your name.” Checking your pockets you realize that, in fact, you are rather broke. “Well friend, I have a way of guaranteeing that, not only will you get to have another drink tonight, you will have a chance to be so sloshed that you barely can stand. All you have to do is complete a simple task for me.” He has your complete attention. He turns, and smiles grimly.

“I need you to help me save Christmas.”

Image Credit – Barbarian Santa by ~NuMioH