a/n: Wow, Nicole, way to use the same joke twice. You fail at humor. Actually, your worse than fail, you're not worthy of such a title. Instead, you just suck.
Self-loathing rant over...Enjoy!
Also, we've just reached 10,000 words! Kanpai!
Date: December 16, 2009
Boxes Opened: 15

"Peter, I don't want to alarm you, but I think in order to survive, we are going to have to eat Candy."

The two FBI agents of varying degrees had been trapped in the small car for about an hour now debating what to do. After this bizarre and annoying comment by Neal, who was getting quite antsy (he always hated the van), Peter decided they would have to leave the car. They couldn't walk to the nearest town because it was nearly 30 miles away, and while both field operatives could make the trip, it wouldn't have been pleasant, but at least getting out and into the fresh air would help eave nerves for awhile. Maybe they could get around to poking about this mysterious warehouse while they're at it.

So together they climbed out through the sun roof (boy, was that a sight to see) and made their way to the warehouse. The door was nearly frozen shut, so it took their combined effort to force it ope-

"Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells, Jingle All The Way!" A loud symphony of voices echoed out.

Peter turned to look at Neal. "This is all bullshit, isn't it?"

With his trademark smile, the former convict answer "Its not bullshit. Its Christmas."

"So... how long?"

"About dinner time."

The choir started up a fast-past version of "Away in a Manager." And Peter continued "So all of it. Completely faked, uh? The story, Ladrón, Kate, Mozzie..."

"Not unless you count that dead one on the floor*." Neal said pointing to a small mosquito, indeed dead, just inside the warehouse doors. "And I can't believe you actually believed any of that. Aren't FBI agents trained to like never trust anyone?"

A moment of angry silence passed of listening to the well-rehearsed choir before Peter added. "Did you really have to have it done in the middle of literally nowhere?"

"Only the best for you, Peter."

-HOURS-LATER-

"You realize the hourly rate still applies." The head singer stated, but Neal simply shrugged too cold for his usual chivalry.

Suddenly, Neal had an idea. "Let's open another box from the calender. Maybe Moz put something useful in it. He asked to fill it up for me today."

Peter stood up and walked out of the warehouse to retrieve it from his car. He'd casually thrown it in the trunk to avoid forgetting to open it and potentially missing out on an awesome prize. Technically, it was already a whole day late, but it was much too cold to care. When he returned, he placed the box in the center of the circle made of choir girls and Neal who reached forwards to open it.

Fsssssshhh. A soft hissing-type noise could faintly be heard before PUFF! the entire box caught fire. Oh my god, Mozzie. Peter thought angrily. Small flames engulfed the dates printed on the boxes and drew nearer to the little doodle of Peter Neal had drawn in the corner during a moment of boredom in the office. Finally, it's tiny head caught fire and literally two-inch flames came off. Noticing, one of the singers commented "Oh, no, the little doggie's on fire!"

"Wow. Deja vú"

*Mozzie is Australian for mosquito.