Captain Feathersword Has Eaten Too Much Christmas Food

"Wait," Greg said. "You mean to say you're from the future? How do you expect us to believe that?"

Nodding, Sam smiled. "I thought you might say that. Did you not notice the Big Red Time Machine?" He gestured behind him to the sleek red car. "The Big Red Car was one of the first casualties of the invasion, but enough of it survived to serve a new purpose as humanity's only hope."

Anthony narrowed his eyes. "I don't know how much of that I believe. What happened after our time that made it so crucial to come back and fix it?"

"Shall I explain?" Sam sighed. "The memories are still fresh in my mind...I don't like to bring them up, but, for the sake of convincing the four of you, I'll make an exception."

"In the year 2036..."

In the year 2036, astronomers across the globe noticed that the Eridanus Supervoid had changed temperatures. Not only had the surrounding space heated up a few degrees, but something in the vast empty void was emitting light. In the scramble to fix their telescopes on this new light, they discovered something incredible: new life. New, sentient life. Three massive egg-shaped spaceships, all with lasers trained on the Earth. Unfortunately, as time passed, it quickly became apparent that the spaceships were travelling nearly as fast as the light they emitted, and before a week had passed, the ships had already come to a stop within our own asteroid belt. Broadcasting a message in sixty different languages simultaneously from all over the world, these aliens quickly showed their technological prowess and revealed their interest in our world. Of all things, these new lifeforms desired music above all else. If we didn't give them music, they'd enslave our race and force us to perform for them. This was met with relief by those open-minded enough, as all conflicts could be solved with the donation of the Internet's music databases, but unfortunately most of us were too stubborn to see the aliens as anything other than a threat. It only took one or two to deviate from the diplomatic plans before the aliens rescinded their offer and began the invasion. Humanity, in my own present, is either dead, enslaved to mindlessly perform music, or in desperate hiding and resistance against the alien threat.

Sam sighed again. "It's really rather sad, too, because when the aliens brainwash any of the humans they capture, all the soul of the music goes away. Music shouldn't be forced--the best songs always write themselves with time. Does that cover enough of why I've decided to come back?"

Everyone nodded, but Greg added: "But when you say you're the last Wiggle, do you mean..."

Sorrowfully hanging his head, Sam said, "Yes. You four were some of the first of the resistance. Unfortunately, that also means that you were some of the first to...leave us." He looked away. "I remember the day Australia heard the news. That's another of the reasons I can't let this future happen."

Murray scratched his chin. "But why couldn't you stop the few people that antagonized the aliens? That would've solved the problem fine, right?"

"I did," Sam said. "I went back and I stopped them so many times. I've been travelling through time, constantly about to change things--just to be stopped by myself telling me not to do it--for years now, trying to stop everything from turning so bad, and it's all been for nothing. Nothing I do seems to affect how the aliens attack the Earth, or if it does, it just makes everything worse!"

He took a moment to calm himself down. "I kept changing small, subtle things, and I finally came to the conclusion that there was one event that started everything. I narrowed it down to 1996, and then I narrowed it down to the Christmas season...Finally, I realized. It was the death of Captain Feathersword."

Jeff and Murray gasped, but Anthony raised an eyebrow, and Greg responded suspiciously. "And what does that have to do with us?"

"Because," said Sam, "I can't do this alone. I've tried, but I'll need you four to help stop him from dying in the first place." Raising his hands in a placating fashion, he continued. "I understand if this seems a little out of left field for you, but I have no other options left. Will you please, please, help me? If only for his sake, not mine."

Practically on his knees at this point, Sam's eyes teared up, his resolve fading. The Wiggles turned to each other, having a short but important glance between them.

Finally, Anthony stepped up. "I don't know much about you, Sam, but I do recognize the truth when I hear it. And if it really means the Captain can come back?"

He nodded in tandem with the other three. "Then count us in."

Finally. Spike could finally get around to getting that sweet Hearth's Warming present for Rarity.

Oh, he'd had his eyes on it for a while now. Just the sort of thing that she'd truly admire. Something so perfect it'd give her a conniption!

...That's actually really bad, maybe not. Howabout a fit of the vapors? Ehhh...nah...

Regardless, Spike strode confidently down the streets of Ponyville, sure of himself. A fire ruby is one thing, but he'd already got her one. What about a hope diamond! Those were the rarest type of gemstone in Equestria! Just owning one was said to grant one a long and happy life, and it'd be just perfect for Rarity.

Of course, he'd have to keep himself from eating it on the way, but...for Rarity? He was...reasonably sure he could pull it off...

He'd burn that bridge when he came to it. Anyway, the diamond was at one of the lesser-known antique stores in town. Only someone like Twilight would ever have set hoof in that place, let alone Rarity! So there was no possible way she could have known about it. Bad news--it was almost ridiculously expensive. Good news--Spike had a substantial amount of funds left over from his Crystal Empire episode. Turns out, saving a kingdom gets one a few fans, and for a while he was constantly getting letters from grateful crystal ponies--and not a small amount of bits to boot. He tried sending a few back, but they'd always come back to him with a note insisting that he keep them, as a thank you. So, he'd just hang on to them. He knew Twilight would find out if he'd kept 'em in the castle (that mare was a machine when it came to cleaning), but he had a strategy that'd hit two birds with one stone, sorry, Fluttershy.

Since he knew he couldn't keep getting bits without resorting to greed-induced bigness, he came up with something rather clever. He'd ask a new pony (that he could trust, of course) every couple of days to watch a package for him, and while they usually were a little suspicious, nopony ever gave him any trouble about it. That way, he'd technically still own the bits, but he didn't have them.

Of course Pinkie found out, and she had some really strange ideas...she'd had an idea for investments, and he'd taken her up on the offer. That scheme somehow multiplied his cash by an exorbitant sum, and in a time of weakness, he'd asked Pinkie whether it was actually legal or not. To his utmost relief, she'd explained in precise detail what the laws surrounding it were and assured him that it was completely inside the law.

She also did try to explain why telling ponies to take care of a package for him was a bad idea, but he'd stopped listening after a while.

Anyway, he'd just cashed in just about all of his pony-protected money mounds, and soon enough that diamond would be all his...to give to Rarity, of course.

Walking up to the counter, he spotted the proprietor, who surprisingly, seemed much less ancient than his wares. "Hey, can I have that diamond please?" he asked sweetly. This was gonna be good.

The stallion eyed him suspiciously. "What? The only hope diamond we have? Please. You don't know how much it's worth."

"Actually," Spike said, "I do. Seven hundred thousand bits."

The proprietor only laughed. "Sure thing, son. Well, you got a picture ID?"

Spike let out a small green breath of fire, leaving a golden seal on his palm. "Spike the Dragon, obviously. Here you are." The proprietor looked it over in his hoof, huffed, and chucked it back to Spike. "Looks in order," he said. "Well," he continued, a flicker of a smirk crossing his face, "you got the money, kid?"

The proprietor couldn't help but chuckle condescendingly at his own joke, if you could call it that. Spike merely smiled innocently, taking a massive bag of bits and placing it on the counter.

The laughing ceased abruptly.

"Not...bad," said the proprietor, forehead now perspirating. "But this isn't seven hundred thousa..." But he trailed off as Spike lifted bag after bag of jangling bits seemingly from nowhere. Soon, seven massive sacks of pure, unblemished, unadulterated moolah sat on the counter.

The proprietor's eyes simply couldn't get any wider. He just sat there, mouth working but no sound coming out.

After about a minute, he closed his mouth, walked over to the diamond case, unlocked it, placed the diamond in its case, and handed it to Spike. "I don't know how you got all this," he said in a whisper, "But I sure as Tartarus don't wanna. Have a wonderful day."

Spike smiled again and stepped outside with his boxed diamond. "Thanks, Pinkie. You really have a flair for the dramatic."

The addressed pony, dressed in a ninja suit, stepped from behind a barrel. "Just doing my job! You can always count on me to know where the bits are!" A hoof-bump and a wink from Pinkie later, Spike was left to walk back to the castle with gift firmly in claw. How nice of the proprietor to box it! That made not eating it a whole lot easier.

Spike had finally had a good day, and was feeling just peachy. So peachy, in fact, that he missed the small tremor that ran through the ground followed immediately by an abyssal, crunchy rumble.

He was too busy humming the fan favorite 'Spike the Brave and Glorious.'

Turns out, the Big Red Time Machine was bigger on the inside.

What was with time machines and that, anyway?

Or so Anthony thought as he entered through the DeLorean style door. The references never seemed to end.

"Alright," said Sam. "So I don't know exactly what to do here, but I know that the cause of the Captain's death was CPOS. If we want to stop his death, we'll have to somehow stop him from eating too much Christmas Pudding." He pulled up a small hologram-style screen showing a bunch of lines like a tree. "Turns out the timeline splits right at the moment the Captain leaves this mortal coil, and if we want to bring all the lines back into the one it was supposed to be all along, we'll have to stop him from dying."

"Sounds simple enough," said Murray. Jeff had already found a comfy sofa and promptly fallen asleep, the events of that day too much for him.

Sam frowned and shook his head. "It may seem that way, but any effort on my part is either too easily noticed or doesn't work. I can't get close enough to work well, this party is very exclusive." Turning to the three conscious Wiggles, he nodded. "That's where you come in. If you can manage to stay away from your past selves and steal two of the Puddings, that should be enough to keep the Captain from overdosing. What do you think?"

After a brief discussion, the three nodded. "I think," said Greg, "it just might work. Crazy, yes, but then again, we're the Wiggles. What hasn't been crazy?"

Sam nodded, a wry smile on his face. "Then that's what we'll do. Also, is Jeff going to be asleep the whole time?"

Him and the three Wiggles stared at the peacefully slumbering form.

"We could honestly probably do it without him," Anthony said, only to add, "What?"

Frowning, Murray had turned on him. "And betray Jeff? No. He's just as important as any of us, Anthony, and you know that."

Anthony had the grace to be ashamed. "Sorry, Murray...yeah, I do know. At least we know how to wake him up."

Greg turned to Sam. "You want to help?"

His response was a wide grin. "I'd be more than happy to."

And in unison, the three of them chanted, "Three, two, one..."