Ripley Vance Willems

 Ripley had grown used to spending Christmas alone in Storybrooke. It seemed like so long ago his wife and daughter had been around to spend the holidays with him. So long he could not quite grasp how many years. It could not be as many as it felt. These past few years had seen him spending quiet Christmases with Wolf.

This year was going to be different. He had invited Graham for the Holiday and to his surprise, the sheriff had accepted.

Now he was staring at the box to the sad excuse for a meal he was throwing together and wishing Granny's would have been open. Why had he thought this was a good idea? Graham would have been possibly better of on his own but there was food at last and coffee and an overly affectionate dog. 

And hanging betwen his stocking and Wolf's was one with Graham's name on it. full of sweets he actually enjoyed and coffee grounds from rhe cafe among other things. A box under the tree somewhat sloppily wrapped had his name as well.

All his night was missing was the sheriff himself. 

And Ripleywould be lying if he said he was not nervously anticipating his arival.

He still wasn't sure if they were anything more than friends who had had sex, but he was happy with whatever it wasthey did have. there was no one he would rather spend the holiday with.

Every Person
Down in Storybrooke
Liked Christmas a lot...

But the Mayor,
Who put them in Storybrooke,
Did NOT!

The Mayor hated Christmas! The whole Christmas season!
Now, please don't ask why. No one quite knows the reason.
It could be that her head wasn't screwed on quite right.
It could be, perhaps, that her shoes were too tight.
But I think that the most likely reason of all
May have been that her heart was two sizes too small.

But,
Whatever the reason,
Her heart or her shoes,
She stood there on Christmas Eve, hating those fools,
Staring down from her manor with a sour, Grinchy frown
At the warm lighted windows below in their town.
For she knew every person down in Storybrooke beneath
Was busy now, hanging a mistleoe wreath.

"And they're hanging their stockings!" she snarled with a sneer.
"Tomorrow is Christmas! It's practically here!"
Then she growled, with her fingers nervously drumming,
"I MUST find a way to keep Christmas from coming!"
For, tomorrow, she knew...

...All the town girls and boys
Would wake up bright and early. They'd rush for their toys!
And then! Oh, the noise! Oh, the noise! Noise! Noise! Noise!
That's one thing she hated! The NOISE! NOISE! NOISE! NOISE!

Then the people, young and old, would sit down to a feast.
And they'd feast! And they'd feast!
And they'd FEAST! FEAST! FEAST! FEAST!
They would start in on pudding, and ham and rolls made of yeast
Which was something the Grinch couldn't stand in the least!

And THEN
They'd do something she liked least of all!
Every person down in storybrooke, the tall and the small,
Would stand close together, with Christmas bells ringing.
They'd stand hand-in-hand. And the people would start singing!

They'd sing! And they'd sing!
AND they'd SING! SING! SING! SING!
And the more the Mayor thought of the cheery way they would sing
The more the Mayor thought, "I must stop this whole thing!
"Why for twenty-eight years I've put up with it now!
I MUST stop Christmas from coming!
...But HOW?"

Then she got an idea!
An awful idea!
THE MAYOR
GOT A WONDERFUL, AWFUL IDEA!

"I know just what to do!" The Mayor Laughed in her throat.
And she made a quick grab for her scarf and a coat.
And she chuckled, and clucked, "What a great evil trick!
"Why this very day I'll make every last one of them angry and sick!"

"All I need is a spell..."
The Mayor looked around.
But since magic was scarce, there was none to be found.
Did that stop the cruel Mayor...?
No! The Mayor simply said,
"If I can't find a spell, I'll make one instead!"
So she called Rumplestiltskin. And he took some gold thread
And he tied up a spell that would put them all in bed.

It started with something remarkably small and, in the long run, really not all that notable. The Sheriff came in one day, like he often did. Ripley gave him his coffee (untouched by flavored sweeteners, fancy creams, or anything else that could be considered undesirable) like he occasionally did. They had their usual Sardonic and Sarcastic banter. And then Ripley called him Graham.

Ripley never called the Sheriff Graham. It was not a big deal, it was not even all that consequential. It was just a thing. And that was how it started. Or at least that is how it started for Ripley.

He started finding more reasons to invite Graham over. Wolf was lonely. Wolf was acting sick. His neighbor was a psychopath. Any reason really. Most recently, invited him over for beer. And then he remembered he had no beer at all. Graham was actually there before him.

Now he was at least partially drunk. He knew he had to be, because he was sprawled on the floor, Wolf was asleep, and Graham was... well he was definitely in Ripley's field of view. Did he pass out again? Why was Graham still there? Usually he let himself out when Ripley passed out.

"Graaham." He sat up with a crooked grin on his face.

"You're still here?"