Chapter I: On Essays and Friends

A/N: Yes… be afraid, be very afraid… Ok, so, since I do not have A Christmas Story completely memorized, and because of the good 220 ish years between that and Les Mis, this will deviate slightly from the plot of ACS. I am counting on two things, a. that you all have seen A Christmas Story (not very likely, I know, and forgive me if you have not!) and b. that you all do not find me completely insane after reading this.

Also, I love Enjolras… any bashing of him in this is just because I bash the ones I love most. I know that the Amis love him too -not in a slashy way though! - so when they bash him in my parody it is just to achieve a (hopefully) comedic affect. Also, the OOCness goes along with the parody: anyone who does not get that will be ignored, sorry. But… look, just take the time to think a bit, people.

Disclaimer: I do not own Les Miserables or A Christmas Story. I own nothing, really, save for a few stuffed toy cats, a sweater, and a copy of A Tale of Two Cities…

Enjolras stared, mouth agape, at the shiny new musket that the patrolling guard was carrying. It was the newest, coolest, most wonderful item in the world and he just had to have one of his own. Smiling, the revolutionary walked towards the Café Musain, determined to enlist his friends' help in getting one. As he burst into the café, he tried his best to stay calm and composed. Try not to sound too eager, Enjy; you can do this! Someone will muster up in their heart enough love for you to buy you that gun. Too bad that Mom and Dad cut you off from the family fortune after that fiasco in which you told them that, when democracy was brought to France, they would be the guillotine's first victims…

"Friends, comrades," Enjolras shouted as he pushed the door open, "I have a task for you all, in the name of democracy!" No, no! Enjolras thought, that sounded too… well, it sort of made fun of his cause. Well, no time to take back his words now. Everyone had turned to stare at him. "I, um... well… I w-want..." the blond stuttered.

"What? Get it out already!" Courfeyrac rolled his eyes in annoyance.

"I want an Official Red Ryder Carbine Action Two Hundred Shot Range Model Musket !" Enjolras spurted. The Amis looked shocked. That was it; Enjolras had just officially lost all of their support. As if the title "Fun sucking intensely obsessive probably effeminate rich prat" that most of the Amis called him behind his back was not enough, now they thought he was insane too.

"Oh… are you sure that you don't just want another vest, dear?" Combeferre asked in the patient tone he usually reserved for when that kid Courfeyrac found, Marius Pontmercy, was being difficult.

Grantaire laughed, "Come on 'Ferre, doesn't every revolutionist want a Red Ryder Musket? Cut Enjolras some slack!"

Enjolras smiled appraisingly at the drunk, though stopped when he noticed Grantaire pouring another drink. I cannot encourage him…

No, no, absolutely not!" Combeferre shouted, then composed himself and turned to Enjolras "You'll shoot your eye out!" He reasonably stated. "It is scientific fact that…"

After the words, 'You'll shoot your eye out,' Enjolras' mind went blank. So they had abandoned me? He thought, mind in a whirl. I will find other ways… I will have that gun!

"And besides," Combeferre was still talking, "the good must be innocent!" With that, he sat down in a chair. Enjolras surveyed the faces of the other men around him. Joly was nodding in agreement with everything that Combeferre had said. Bossuet, as Joly's best friend for life, was concurring with him. Feuilly was muttering something about how Enjolras needed to be happy with what he had: after all, he didn't work of a living. Bahorel was really oblivious to the whole exchange, being both angry at always being left out in fics or maybe just going along with the fact that he had no wit, timing, or luck with anything. Jehan was looking sympathetically at Enjolras, though, he was also sobbing dramatically at the thought of Enjolras losing an eye. Courfeyrac was mostly just watching the whole exchange with a sarcastic smile. He most likely assumed that this was just a pathetic attempt by Enjolras to get attention or something.

That's it then! I will have to find another way to get my Red Ryder Musket. Besides, who needs them anyways? Those one-dimensional friends who only have one thing going for them and are really capitalizing on it.

"Wow, Combeferre, you sure had a lot to say about this! What the hell do you think you are: Enjolras' mother?" Grantaire emptied another bottle of wine.

"W-well, I-ah… I am the only responsible one around here!" Combeferre yelled. Then he pushed his glasses up and pouted, mumbling to himself.

Enjolras composed himself and then turned to face the Les Amis again.

"No, I appreciate your concern for me, Combeferre. I would like to say-Winecasket! Quit that drinking at once! You have downed at least five bottles of-" Enjolras was cut off.

"Hey, for once I too am being responsible. You see, there is this contest out, and the person who collects the most labels off of wine bottles get a prize! If I win this, I will never have to work again!" Grantaire paused and drank even more.

"Wait; you never work anyways! So, what in the name of Poland are you going on about?" Feuilly sputtered.

"Very funny Feuilly, very funny..." Grantaire said sarcastically. "Now, what were we all talking about again?"

The Amis looked around blankly: what were they talking about?

"Oh yes… Joly was telling everyone about the nature of his new disease!" Bossuet told the crowd. Everyone looked slightly uncomfortable and quickly started making small talk. Enjolras frowned angrily and stomped out of the café. There has to be some other way to get that gun…

The next morning, Enjolras was still musing on his predicament as he headed to class. Occasionally, he had to check to make sure that that annoying boy Marius Pontmercy was still behind him. Enjolras, while not fond of the Bonapartist Baron, knew that Pontmercy was the kind of person who was prone to getting lost on his way to the same class that they went to every week, or tripping over air, or forgetting what he was doing and spending the next twelve hours writing 'I Lurv Ursula' on a wall.

Finally, the pair made it to their class and hurriedly slid into seats. The professor started talking.

"Now boys, today we have a visitor from the Paris Police Station. He will be lecturing you all on blah blah blah blah blah blah." The professor kept on going but Enjolras was imagining himself killing National Guards men with his Red Ryder Musket. "So, without further adieu, here is the only policeman in Paris - no, the only policeman in all of France - Inspector Javert!" Marius was the only one who clapped. Enjolras silenced him with a glare.

Inspector Javert turned out to be a rather crazed looking middle-aged man with large sideburns. He stood up and started droning ceaselessly on how the law was not mocked and he was the law. Enjolras was just about prepared to sink back into a fantasy where he chased off fangirls with his new musket when Inspector Javert made the following announcement,

"Now," the law loving man lectured, "I would like all of you to write an essay on the theme, 'How I Would Catch Convict 24,601." Enjolras was suddenly alert. This is it! I could write the theme on how I would use my musket to track down and catch this 24,601. Everyone will love it! Combeferre will have to buy me that Red Ryder gun now, once he realizes all the good I can do with it! Once again, the fair student had ignored the obvious answer, just buy the gun himself, and went with some elaborate scheme that could have surely only been thought up by a nine-year-old in a 1980's Christmas movie.

Enjolras began to write fervently. When the professor called time, he quickly ran up to the desk and deposited his magnum opus. Glancing sideways at Marius' he read the first sentence, 'Me and my girlfriend Ursula would use R lurv 2 katch the bad guy!' Wow, grammar, spelling, and just plain awfulness, it reminds me of some fanfictions… how did Pontmercy get into college in the first place? Enjolras rolled his eyes, the standards for who can become lawyers these days are really, really low.

Quietly, Enjolras headed back to his desk and waited while the papers were quickly graded by the professor and Inspector Javert. Why, exactly, the papers were graded right then and there is still a mystery. However, that fact is skipped over as Enjolras got his essay back.

This is it! He thought flipping the paper over, they shall have loved it so much that I get an-

C+, that is what the paper said. But, it wasn't the grade that cut Enjolras so; it was the note, written in red at the top of the page, stating simply, 'You'll shoot your eye out!'

A/N: Will our darling Enjy ever get his Red Ryder Musket? Tune in… sometime to see!

Loved it? Hated it? Could not stand to read it? Had no idea what I was talking about? Well, regardless, I will probably publish the next chapter Friday. (hey, I have a life you know, people, cannot be expected just to write stories for you guys all the time!) This will be a three part story and the last part will be in before Christmas Eve. Also, I happen to detest when all the amis talk about in fics is the one thing that defines them. This is why I do my best to parody that in my story.