The Riggs brothers, having gotten lost on their way to Carnegie Hall, speed through Suburbia Somewhere, USA, blasting Don’t Shoot Me Santa Claus by the Killers on the roof-mounted loudspeakers. Jesse drives, while Ethan wrestles with a comically oversized map. In their Hummer’s wake lies a path of destruction and tinsel.
Ethan: *glances out the window* Carolers.
Jesse: *cranks on the steering wheel*
*thump* *thump* *thumpthump*
Jordan: *in the backseat, wielding an high-powered nail gun* Inflatable snowman.
Jesse: *cranks steering wheel the other way, allowing Jordan a clear shot*
Jordan: Ha ha! Got ‘em!
Jesse: Does any of this look familiar?
Ethan: What street did we just pass?
Jesse: *glances at a sign as they flash past* Lincoln Avenue.
Ethan: *flips map over* Are we anywhere near the Space Needle?
Jordan: We passed a museum a few miles back.
Jesse: *cranks the steering wheel, bringing the Hummer around in a 180 degree spin* We’ll ask for direction there.
Ethan: I do not need directions!
* * *
At the museum. The museum’s security system, which includes a facial recognition program, registers all three Riggs faces at once and its circuits immediately short out.
Jesse: *reading a display title* Christmas Carols Through the Ages.
Jordan: *climbing over the rope partition* Maybe they were less annoying in days of yore.
Ethan: *trying to get his lighter to start* I rather doubt it. We’ve been playing Greensleeves since 1580, I believe.
Jordan: Let the sky rain potatoes! Let it thunder to the tune of Greensleeves!
Jesse: *over the partition as well, looking at sheet music* Hey, they’ve got our song here!
Ethan: Anthrax in My Christmas Card?
Jesse: And our unpublished hit, Slay Ride. Not to be confused with that crap by Torture.
Jordan: How did they get their hands on this? We haven’t even written it yet. *sits at piano, plays the melody by whaling his head against the keys*
Ethan: *lights the piano on fire*
Jesse: *makes to sing, but stops* These lyrics are in Farsi. *chants instead off sings*
A crowd gathers, consisting predominately of security guards and several screaming children, who provide an excellent counterpoint to the chanting. The song draws to an abrupt end as the piano explodes. The crowd dives to the floor to avoid ivory shrapnel. The brothers cross back over the partition and head deeper into the museum.
Jordan: *hauls a child up off the floor and grins in his face* Merry Freaking Christmas.
Ethan: There are an unusual number of security guards here.
Jesse: They must have an important and expensive display somewhere.
The shorted security surveillance equipment causes the rest of the building's power to go. Ethan grabs a large candelabrum, snaps three candelabra off and distributes them.
Jordan: Any idea where we might find the information kiosk?
Ethan: Right through here. *opens a door, passes inside*
Jesse: Ethan? Where'd you go?
Ethan: I’m down in the basement, Jesse! But watch that first step, it’s a Loo-loo.
Jordan: Anything down there?
Ethan: Just these folks… well, mannequins. No, we don’t have permission to be down here.
Jesse: Are you talking to the mannequin?
Ethan: It talked first. It seems to know a lot about us. He says he’s the Mannequin of Christmas Past.
Jordan: Are there two more down there?
Ethan: *still downstairs* Yep.
Jordan: *produces a butterfly knife with a flourish* I think we can take them.
Jesse: *now holding a collapsible impact baton* I know I don’t want to see Christmas Future. It’ll spoil next year’s capers.
Ethan: *still downstairs* Someone toss me a grenade… Pin in!
Jordan: Too late!
Outside the museum as it burns merrily. The Riggs brothers sit on a bench, sipping hot cocoa.
Jesse: It’s really quite festive.
Jordan: Toasty. I wish we had some chestnuts.
Ethan: *grumpy* I lost my stocking cap.
Jesse: We have extras in the hummer.
Ethan: That was the one I wore when we stormed the Vatican.
Jesse: The Pope was surprised to see us. And Jordan wouldn’t stop shouting, “God, bless us, every one!”
Jordan: *sips his cocoa* Ah, good times.
Jesse: Have you figured out the map yet?
Ethan: Carnegie Hall is northeast of here.
Jesse: *gets out the Hummer keys* Well, that’s good enough for me. I hear they’ve got snow that way.
Ethan: I love snow!
Jordan: *as he gets in the Hummer* Can we stop by a hardware store? I'm running low on nails.