Yule Cat is Gonna Eat Ya
Characters:
Jolakoetturinn: Yule Cat, house pet of Gryla
Gryla: ogress, eater of disobedient children
Leppalu?i: ogre, Gryla's lazy husband
Plus various hapless humans
Gryla finished her stew, sprinkling in handfuls of fresh aromatic herbs into the cauldron. The bones of disobedient children bobbed in the viscous liquid as steam bubbles lazily popped to the surface. Leppalu?i, her husband -- her THIRD husband -- slumbered on his La-Z- Boy recliner off in a corner of the lava rock cave. The lazy worthless bum hadn't even pilfered his own chair, she had to do that. Just as she had to pilfer the ingredients for the Yule Stew: local children who disobeyed, didn't listen, or were just generally rude to their elders.
The ogress didn't even have her own children around to help with the holiday meal. As with every year, her thirteen sons -- the Yule Lads -- were off causing very specific mischiefs and mayhems across the land. Pulling pranks, like licking spoons and scrapping pot, swiping sausages and gobbling skyr, peeping through windows and sniffing at doorways, stealing candles and hooking meat, and all leaving rotten potatoes in children's shoes to let the them know they've been naughty naughty naughty little kids.
She ladled two wooden bowls fill of the stew. A femur bone was the garnish for one, a skull and lower jaw the other. "Wake up, you lazy ingrate!" She kicked him awake and thrust the femur bowl into his fat gut. "Eat up while it's still hot."
"It tastes better as leftovers anyway," he grumbled as he slurped the stew, some liquid dribbling down his chin and onto his already soiled and stained tunic. "Gives the flavors time to really meld together." He crunched down on the femur, sucking out the marrow before consuming the splintered osseous tissue. Don't feel sorry for the deceased and devoured owner of the femur, since the little girl had used the money her mother gave her for the church collection basket and bought sweets with it instead. Feeling remorseful, she placed a wrapped toffee in the collection plate last Sunday; God may have forgiven the child for her trespasses, but it didn't save her from Gryla.
"It's Christmas Eve, it's time for the stew," Gryla said matter-of-factly as she popped a skull in her mouth and crunched on it, bits of bone and boiled brains spraying out her mouth as she continued, "it's tradition. And speaking of tradition, it's time for Jolakoetturinn to feed!"
Don't feel sorry for the decreased and devoured owner of the skull, either, since he stole the toffee placed in the church collection basket by the femur girl.
She hobbled her bent and arthritic ogre legs to the entrance of the cave, finishing her stew and tossing the bowl to the side as she went. At the enhance she called out into the dark night, alternatingly sucking breath to click her tongue on her teeth and making ~pspspspspsp~ noises. Enticed by the coaxing, the black furred house cat bounded through the thick snow to its owner.
"There you are, Jolakoetturinn, my love," Gryla petted her kitty cat as it purred and rubbed against her. The cat was a dark as the onmipresent midwinter night. The pet was an outdoor cat, since it was just a little too large for the ogress and her husband humble abode. Really, it couldn't even fit it's head through the entrance, as it was larger than the cottages of the surrounding villages. Besides, Jolakoetturinn enjoyed living in the rocky forays on the outskirts off civilization, menacing the citizens throughout the long winter nights. For Jolakoetturinn was the Yule Cat. And tonight was the Eve of Christmas: the night for Yule Cat to make their presence known.
Gryla scratched behind one of Yule Cat's ears. As large as the ogress was, her pet's head was wider than her arm span so she couldn't properly scritch them behind both their ears like they deserved.
"Guess what day it is, sweetie," the ogress cooed into the big black kitty's ear, "my sweet baby, get excited--" Yule Cat purred excitedly. Gryla leaned closer and whispered into the feline's ear, "-- it's Christmas Eve."
Yule Cat's pupils grew large and the pounced backwards, butt wriggling in the air excitedly, tail whipping into the night.
"Well, what are you waiting for? Go feed!"
The cat merrily went on its way, binding through the snowy hills toward the village in the valley below.
"Oh, I sure do love The Holidays," Gryla said with uncharacteristic warmth as she made her way back into her cave. "I think I'll have another helping of that stew before I store it away for the Yule Lads. I need to make sure I get a little piece of that nose picker I caught: the diet of boogers really makes the meat all that sweeter."
~***~
Down in the village Yule Cat stalked out their prey: anyone who had not gotten new clothes in the past year. Not just the children, as the villagers' folklore would tell, but grown men and women as well. There wouldn't be any children for Yule Cat to devour: either Gryla already harvested them for her stew or their parents made sure they were clad in their fresh new attire on this holiday night. But the adults? Adults aren't known for taking care of themselves and certainly are lax in helping out others. There will be at least a few souls who hadn't heeded the village elder's warnings to buy new clothes and thus will be the Christmas Eve feast for Yule Cat.
Yule Cat sneaked their way onto the festive village streets. Strings of colorful lights adorned the gutters of gables, white bulbs hung like pearls across the streets from lamppost to lamppost, the bright light from inside every home shined through open windows. Garlands and wreaths adorned practically every surface, every evergreen tree covered in festive ornaments, and even some trees cut down to be brought inside and even more heavily decorated. The blanket of snow from the early morning's storm twinkled joyously. Yule Cat's dark fur absorbed the lights as they stalked through the streets like a black hole in a starry sky.
The streets were mostly deserted -- it being Christmas Eve and all -- but Yule Cat's keen senses homed them in on a hapless soul dressed in last year's fashion and a tattered wool overcoat. The man had his arms full of gaily wrapped gifts and was struggling to not slip on the icy cobblestones. Yule Cat closed the distance with expert silence. When the man noticed the huge cat his startled reaction caused him to fall hard on his tailbone, with the gifts scattering across the street.
``Y-y- ya -you're real!'' the man stammered, ``You're not some Holiday myth, are you?''
The man laughed and stood up, brushing the snow off his old trousers and coat. ``Lucky for me I'm not some orphaned waif without even a new scarf or socks to save me from the dreaded Jolakoetturinn.'' He said mockingly.
``No,'' Yule Cat's voice thundered in the man's chest. ``You're some grown man who couldn't even buy himself a new scarf nor were gifted new socks all year to save him from the fearsome Jolakoetturinn.''
The man's face dropped and his blood ran cold, ``Y-you can talk?''
Now it was time for Yule Cat to laugh, ``Of everything -- of all this--'' Yule Cat gestured a paw in front of them to indicate they were referring to themselves, the black cat as large as a house standing menacingly in front of them, ``--the one thing you're shocked by is that I can talk?''
``Uh,'' the man was truly dumbfounded by the question. ``Yeah?''
Yule Cat sighed, ``Let's get this over with, then, shall we?''
And with that, Yule Cat lapped up the man right off his feet with one swift lick of their rough tongue. The feline clamped their jaws around the man, caging him within their wet maw, headfirst pointed towards their eagerly waiting throat. Yule Cat played with the man in their mouth, pressing them up against their hard palate with their strong feline tongue. He flailed and struggled but the massive cat's jaw muscles were just too strong. He screamed and howled, but his reverberating cries failed to escape the creature's maw.
Yule Cat's dexterous tongue slowly pushed the ill dressed man slowly towards their uvula as he tried in vein to grab hold of the feline's spiky molars to brace himself. Yule Cat reveled in the feeling in their throat as their esophageal muscles forced the struggling man down their gullet.
A visible lump travel down their throat as the man was forced down to his fate to satiate the feline fashionista. With him securely down in the cramped dark confines of their stomach, Yule Cat sought out their next prey.
Sniffing at the air, they detected the unmistakable odor of old clothes. Crouching low and snaking through the storybook streets, Yule Cat came upon their next hapless victim: a young man -- a boy, really, only nineteen -- stumbling and sliding down the cobblestones streets, slightly intoxicated from overindulgence in his grandmother?s mulled wine, and clad head to toe in attire at least three years old and in desperate need of a good washing.
The boy turned around and faced Yule Cat eye to massive eye. "Dude," he expressed with the nonchalance of a tipsy youth, "Jolakoetturinn be real."
"Damn straight, 'dude'," Yule Cat purred in response.
"But I like my clothes," the boy said in disbelief, showing his arms out and gazing down at his garb. "Does it really have to be like that?"
"Them's the rules," Yule Cat explained. "Tradition and all, you know."
"At least it's a fun way to go, right?"
"For me it is."
The boy turned to run away, but he but got a couple of steps before Yule Cat flattened him onto the hard cobblestone street, trapping him underneath their massive man-sized paw. The boy could feel the warmth of the beast's paw pads -- their beans -- even through his winter jacket. Yule Cat's claws were out in a show of force, but the boy remained unscathed. The cat pushed their weight against the human, pressing them into the hard street with their soft squishy paw.
They drummed their toes, clacking their claws on the street around the boy. Once he was sufficiently frightened, Yule Cat gripped him in their paw and jerked him upright back onto his two feet. Using the same paw that had so forcefully knocked him down, the feline brushed the snow and dirt off his filthy old jacket to show there was no ill will.
``Why, thank you, Jolakoetturinn,'' the boy said, briefly sprucing himself up by straightening out his collar and hem. ``That was mighty kind of you, to help me back up after I fell like that, but I really must be off now. Things to do, people to see--.''
With a twist of their head, Yule Cat snatched up the human sideways, trapping him in their massive jaw. They'd been salivating heavily at the anticipation of devouring the teen, so he practically splashed down when he entered into their eager maw. He didn't even seem passed by it, content with his fate he didn't even struggle. Sliding down the feline gullet in a Superman pose, the kid joined the confines of Yule Cat's stomach alongside the ill dressed man.
"Dude," was all he said. He wriggled around the interior of the feline's stomach, trying to find a comfortable position to be be in, ignoring the protests of the man that was already occupying the tight space.
Off to find the next hapless soul, Yule Cat jumped over a couple of picturesque snow covered cottages to the parallel street, landing right in front of a middle-aged woman, startling her into dropping the Tupperware container she was carrying.
"Oh goodness gracious, you startled me there, little kitty," she said as she placed a hand on her chest, feeling her own beating heart thumping against her ribcage. "You mustn't jump out on people like that. Look, you made me drop my fruitcake."
The woman picked up her Tupperware container and peaked under the lid, "Good, it looks fine." She sealed the lid back up, ``You know these fruitcakes are quite indestructible until they're thoroughly soaked in the brandy and rum.''
Yule Cat looked at her with curiosity. Was this woman really treating them as of they were some simple house cat, not the mythic and mighty Jolakoetturinn? Could she not comprehend the cat being as big as a house, as dark as the night, and as fearsome as an avalanche?
"You must be lost," she continued, "out here by your lonesome on Christmas Eve no less. Where do you live? Where's home?"
"I don't think you quite understand the seriousness of your predicament," Yule Cat began, but the woman cut them off.
"Don't you worry about it, I'll get you home safe and sound.''
``I am Jolakoetturinn, and I'm here to devour you as your punishment for not purchasing new clothes all year,'' they explained.
``No new cloths?'' the woman asked with shocked confusion. ``What do you call this coat then?''
The knee length coat was made with synthetic fibers; it had once been a vibrant red, but after decades of use and washings was muted and dull. It had been altered here and there throughout the years so it didn't conform to a single decade's style, but it clearly had originated out of the 1970s.
``That coat, ma'am, is older than you are.''
``''Oh you flirt,'' she said with a fashionable spin to show off her coat. ``This was Maribel's mother's originally, but she was just going to give it to the thrift shop. I said I'd give it a good home, and I did. It's not `old', it's vintage! And I got it last spring, so it's new cloths so there,'' she said with a finality.
Yule Cat thought this over, tilting their head to get a good look at the woman's attire. She thought the cat was reaching their head down for chin skritches and happily obliged. Lost in bliss by the woman's expert petting, Yule Cat decided to allow the secondhand article to count as new, and let the woman go down the street to her party.
``Bye bye, kitty,'' she waved back at them, ``I hope you find your way back home and get to snuggle up to a nice warm fire!''
Yule Cat liked that woman.
But Yule Cat was still hungry, and there were still humans out there on the streets of this cold village who hadn't heeded the warnings of the legend of Jolakoetturinn and had failed to secure new (or previously owned) garments in the past year. It was getting late, but the clock hadn't passed midnight so it was still Yule Cat's day. The humans had mostly settled into their homes, hiding away as the temperature dropped further and a gentle snow began to fall again. But Yule Cat could still sense another victim, the prey still out there wondering around with old clothes and a lackadaisical attitude toward tradition.
And there they were, on the outskirts of the village, wearing not a single item purchased since New Years' Day. The victim was an elderly man with cane, struggling to walk down the icy cobblestones to wherever he was off to. Why was no one helping the poor man traverse these streets, Yule Cat did not know. But Yule Cat would help the man. They would help the man the only way they knew how.
Using the night to their advantage, Yule Cat hoped from shadow to shadow unnoticed. Once they came close to the elderly man they let their presence be known, not wanting to startle the old man into a cardiac episode.
``Why, hello there, young man,'' Yule Cat purred at the old man. ``No new clothes this year?''
The man looked up at Yule Cat, shivering with fear. Or maybe it was the cold leeching through his old clothes into his even older bones.
``Jolakoetturinn,'' the man said in awe. ``Is that you?''
``In the fur.''
``So we meet again,'' the old man said resignedly. ``But this scarf I got for Christmas last year, it's not even a year old yet.''
Yule Cat shook there mighty head, ``Doesn't count, it need to be within this calendar year.''
``I see. Oh well,'' the man dropped his cane and raised his arms up, ``take me into your warm maw. Cover me in your dripping saliva and squeeze me down your muscular gullet.''
``Don't make this weird,'' the feline was a little concerned with the man's reaction, but it wasn't like they weren't going to devour the man.
Yule Cat slowly took the man in their maw, carefully not to catch his old clothes on their sharp teeth and he become enclosed around the mouth. The man did not fight or squirmed, and seemed to press himself onto the feline's tongue. The cat let their mouth fill with up as they salivated at the thought and feeling of a mouth full of ill dressed human. The helpless man clenched between the cat's jaw still did not fight, seemingly content -- or happy even -- to be devoured by the festive beast.
Swallowing, the man traveled down Yule Cat's throat, constricted all around with the shear strength of the feline's esophageal muscles pushing him down into their stomach to be with the two other souls already confined within. Yule Cat could swear he hear the man giggling delightedly even as he entered the acidic tomb of the feline's stomach.
``Dude, another one?'' the young man complained as the old man joined them.
``Don't worry guys,'' the old man said as he settled into the constricted and dark confines. ``I do this all the time, it's sort of my holiday traditional.'' He tittered delightedly.
Off at the other end of the village, church bells began to chime. Not the normal chime to mark the time, but a festive cacophony to ring in the first few minutes of Christmas Day. Jubilant cries escaped out of the occupied homes and soon evolved into joyous carols.
That was Yule Cat's cue to head back home. They couldn't sense any other poorly dressed humans out on the streets anyway. Their stomach swelled with their feast, dragging through the thick snow in the hills around the village. They were slow in making their way back to the heat of Gryla's lava rock cave, but they were content and satiated by the night's haul. Yule Cat was too big to fit in the cave, of course, but they can curl up outside the opening and bask in the warm from the hearth and likewise block the wind from entering the ogress's home.
They will sleep well through the summer, too, as these three humans would be more than enough to see Yule Cat through until next year.
But until then, merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night. And don't forget: treat yourself to some new socks next year.
