“All I want for Christmas…is your vote!” Mariah Carey told the cheering crowd, in an alternate reality where she was running for President of the United States and December 25th was Election Day.

***

“All I want for Christmas…is unilateral disarmament!” Mariah Carey said in her first State of the Union address. She needed to show the people that she would tackle the big challenges. She would make Michael Bublé’s Canada stand down, or else.

So it began.

***

“All I want for Christmas…is Utah!” Mariah Carey roared at her generals. The Canadians, under Bublé, had struck suddenly. She needed to retaliate and take back what was hers.

***

All I want for Christmas…is Yukon!” Mariah Carey declared. She’d driven Bublé out of the US, but that had not satiated her. She marched north, ever north.

***

“All I want for Christmas…is Uruguay!” Mariah Carey declared. She’d taken North America, but that had not been enough. She marched south, ever south. Each new country she took was one that Bublé and his guerrillas didn’t.

***

“All I want for Christmas…is the former Yugoslavia!” Mariah Carey cried out. She had the Americas, but it wasn’t enough. She needed more. She needed Europe, Asia, and Africa. She needed the world, lest it fall into Buble’s hands. It would be hers.

***

“All I want for Christmas…is YouTube!” Mariah Carey proclaimed. The belligerent video platform needed to go. As it was, it served as a bastion for Bublé’s rebels to post seditious music videos. Once it was under her control, she would have no more obstacles on her path to empire.

***

“All I want for Christmas…is Uranus!” Mariah Carey told her top researchers. The less mature among them snickered, but she didn’t care. She needed to get into space before Bublé did. She would keep conquering until she had what she sought.

***

“All I want for Christmas…is the Universe!” Mariah Carey screamed at the heavens. She wanted more power. Always more power. But she knew she couldn’t get it. She couldn’t rule it all.

***

Michael Bublé fell to his knees, ashen-faced, amidst the war-wreckage, the dusty ruins of Vancouver, the atomized remains of his hometown. A few flakes came down, lightly sprinkling the rubble with a dust of white. It was December 24, 2029.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m so sorry. I should never have gone against you.”

Mariah Carey stared down at him. “It’s going to take a lot more than that to convince me.”

“I know, it’s just—” How could he tell her? Everything he’d learned, everything he’d seen? He’d have to try, somehow. He crawled towards her, extending a hand towards her foot, trying to grab it. She pulled back. He collapsed. A tear rolled down his cheek.

“Please, Mariah,” he said.

She backed away. “I can’t, Michael. Not after what you did.” She turned to walk away.

“You don’t understand!” he called at her back. Tears streaked down his face, leaving channels through the soot crusted on his cheeks. “I realize now that what I did was folly. I was driven mad by you. By the desire to impress you. To join you, and rule the world by your side. I sought more, ever more, thinking each new conquest would at last win your heart. But it didn’t. All it did was drive you away!”

Mariah stopped walking away from him.

With an effort, Michael got back up on one knee. “I’m so sorry, Mariah,” he said, “for everything. I don’t want us fighting. I want us united. We’re two lost souls, Mariah, you and me. We tore the world apart because we didn’t want to believe that we were each looking for the other.”

He got to his feet, and walked towards her. She didn’t turn to face him, but she didn’t walk away either.

“I’ve finally realized it,” he said. “Realized that I don’t want a lot for Christmas.”

She turned to face him again. Her eyes narrowed.

“There’s just one thing I need. I don’t care about politics, or ruling the land of the free.”

She stared at him, unmoved.

“I just want you for my own,” he said. “More than you could ever know.”

He reached out for her shoulder.

“Please, Mariah, make my wish come true.”

There were tears in his eyes.

“All I want for Christmas…is you.”

There were none in hers.

 

~THE END~

 

 

Images: Dallas Bittle / Wikimedia Commons / SKS2K6 / Wikimedia Commons / NASA / Wikimedia Commons / Richard Bumgardner / Wikimedia Commons / Kurt Bauschardt / Flickr Commons / Dr. #Content (hopefully slightly better GIMP job than last time)