If I live to be a hundred, I’ll never be able to forget that big apocalypse scare of 2012. The Mayan calendar counted down to doomsday, and you might not believe it, but the world almost missed Christmas.

Oh, excuse me – call me Nacho.

What’s the matter? Haven’t you ever seen a talking dog before?

Really? You haven’t?

I’m guessing you’ve never seen Beverly Hills Chihuahua, then? Or Homeward Bound: The Incredible Journey? Or Look Who’s Talking Now?

How about Lady and the Tramp? Come on… don’t tell me you’ve never seen Lady and the Tramp!!!

Ugh… you suck!

Anyway… where was I? Oh yeah… I was here. Where’s “here,” you ask? I call it Tinseltown… better known as Los Angeles. Home to the stars – yep, here’s where we make ‘em. Nice place to live, you know. I live here with my master, Nick Carter, and his girl.

Lauren’s big into health and fitness. “Nick, you haven’t worked out all week! You’re not going to fit into your stage clothes!” I can hear her nagging. “Get to the gym!”

“I’m busy, Lauren. We’re about to go on tour!”

“Who ever heard of a fat popstar? Go work out!”

Now, don’t any of you worry your girly parts about Nick. Lauren won’t let him get too skinny. She likes a little junk in his trunk, too, if you know what I mean. And forget all that wheatgrass bullshit – boy still likes his Twinkies! He has a secret stash of ‘em hoarded from 2012 that he sneaks when he thinks no one’s watching.

Grr… I hate when Nick goes on tour, especially when he and Lauren start bickering beforehand. They only do it because they don’t want to admit how much they’ll miss each other when they’re apart. Maybe they think it’ll be easier that way.

At least the guys are staying in the States this tour. Nothing like that year of the Mayan apocalypse. I don’t know what they would have done without Patches to pull them through. Anyway…

Hm? Patches? Could it be that some of you are not acquainted with the story of Patches the Flying Pandaskunk?

Well, pull up a cushion and lend an ear! Let me tell you how Patches saved Christmas that year.

***

It all started about a month before doomsday. It was Thanksgiving time, and the Backstreet Boys had just released a new single. It was called “It’s Christmas Time Again,” and what it lacked in creativity, it made up for in catchiness. The Boys were performing it for the first time live at Disneyland, for the taping of the Disney Parks Christmas Day Parade.

“Frost grows outside the window. First kiss under the mistletoe… oh-ohh… oh-ohh…” sang Nick on the stage, his red scarf swinging. “Bells chime inside a steeple. Open the door; see the people sing… oh-ohh… oh-ohh…”

“And when the snow is falling down, down, down…” Kevin joined in, accompanied by a chorus of screams from the crowd below. “You know that Santa’s back in town, town, town… That’s when it’s Christmas time again.”

The cheers rose to new heights as all five boys began to bounce and sing. “La ta, la ta-da-da-ta! La ta, la ta-da-da, it’s Christmas time again!” Fireworks added to the excitement as they exploded in the sky over Sleeping Beauty Castle. “La ta, la ta-da-da-ta! La ta, la ta-da-da, it’s Christmas time again!”

The mood in the park was festive and fun. The fans in the crowd were clapping and waving their arms, totally carefree. The Boys were back together, and they’d never looked or sounded better.

And then Brian opened his mouth to sing.

“I’ve been checkin’ my list twice…”

For a split second, the fans stopped screaming and looked at each other with worry, for not even Kevin’s harmony could hide the hoarseness of his cousin’s voice. Then one girl shouted, “WOOOO!” and the others joined in, trying to cover up Brian’s shakiness with their shrill screams.

“…got plans to give you your gift tonight…” Even Kevin was looking at Brian in concern, bending down to bring his head close to his cousin’s. “Oh-ohh… oh-ohh…”

Nick and AJ saved the second verse. “Wake up under a lit tree…” They sang in perfect harmony, their voices solid and strong. “One wish that came true, you’re here with me… oh-ohh… oh-ohh…”

“And when the snow is falling down, down, down…” Even after all his years of smoking, AJ’s voice was still powerful and right on pitch. “You know that Santa’s back in town, town, town… That’s when it’s Christmas time again!”

The same could not be said for Brian, and afterwards, the others confronted him about it.

“That sounded terrible!” ranted Howie. “The second verse was weak!”

Kevin raised his enormous eyebrows. “Since when are you in a position to judge the rest of us?”

“Since you left and stopped doing it!” Howie shot back.

“Well, it wasn’t my fault. Brian was off.”

“Maybe if he’d shown up to more than one rehearsal…” muttered Nick.

Suddenly, everyone was staring at Brian.

“Yeah, why weren’t you at rehearsal?” AJ wanted to know. “My wife’s nine months pregnant, and I managed to make it to all the rehearsals.”

Brian shrugged. “Just modeling some scarves for Wylee.”

“Just modeling some…” Howie shook his head, too disgusted to speak.

“What? What’s wrong with supporting my wife?” Brian looked wounded. “AJ makes jewelry with his wife. Nick performs at Lauren’s fitness competitions. So why can’t I help Leighanne with Wylee?”

“Because it makes you a pussy!” snapped Howie. “You’re turning into such a pussy that you can’t even sing like a man anymore!”

Brian blinked at Howie. “Says the guy who sings all the high falsetto parts?”

“Excuse me? I sang in full voice for my solo, and you didn’t hear my voice break once.” Howie pointed his finger at Brian. “You better sort out your priorities and get this problem fixed so you can be a Backstreet Boy… not a scarf model. Good grief!”

With that, he spun on his heel and stalked off in a huff. The others slowly followed, casting resentful looks at Brian over their shoulders as they walked away.

Brian was left standing alone. “I guess I’m on my own now,” he sighed to himself, as he wandered off to find his wife and son.

***

Now aside from the Backstreet Boys performing, business went on as usual at Disneyland that day. The Disney characters were out in full force to shake hands and take pictures with the park guests. But not all of the Disney characters were being social.

Flower the Skunk had retired from making appearances in the park and now spent his days skulking backstage. He had always been shy, but now the skunk had an additional reason to stay out of sight. He had just become the not-so-proud papa of what could only be described as an abomination.

“Whatcha gonna call him?” his old friend Thumper had asked, on the day his son was born.

“Satan’s Spawn,” spat Flower, taking another swipe at his streaming eyes. It had only been an hour since his wife, Bluebelle, had died in childbirth, her small body split wide open by the baby’s oversized head as it crowned.

“Satan’s Spawn?” Thumper wrinkled his wiggly, pink nose. “Ya know, buddy, I don’t think that’s such a good name for a baby.”

“Oh really?” Flower replied sarcastically. “And what would you call him?”

Thumper thumped his foot thoughtfully. “I’d call him Patches,” he decided finally. “’Cause he looks like he’s got parts of two different animals all pieced together.”

“Patches,” Flower repeated, glaring at the rabbit.

Thumper nodded. “Yep, I guess that’ll do alright.”

Flower didn’t care enough to argue, and so it came to be that his son was christened Patches. Disney park officials apologized profusely for the mix-up that had resulted in Patches’ unusual appearance, blaming it on a semen switch with the San Diego Zoo’s panda breeding program. “Somehow, we were sent frozen panda sperm, and they got your skunk spunk. We’re sorry, Mr. Flower, sir.”

Flower was sorry, too, sorry that he was now a widower, stuck raising a pandaskunk that wasn’t even his genetic offspring all on his own. His friends had offered to help, of course, but Flower found their unwavering optimism downright annoying. “It’ll be alright, Flower,” Bambi was quick to assure him. “I grew up without a mom, and I turned out okay. Little Patches will be just fine.”

At the sound of his name, Patches lifted his large, furry head from the ground.

“See!” Bambi exclaimed. “He knows his name already!”

“Mama?” asked Patches, looking from Bambi to Flower. “Papa?”

Thumper started to giggle, stomping his foot uproariously. “No, no, no… Bambi’s not your mama! Bambi’s a boy!”

Patches laughed right along with him, and as the sound of his laughter filled the air, the pandaskunk seemed to became lighter than the air itself. All at once, he floated upward and hovered a few feet off the ground.

Thumper’s eyes widened. “He can fly!” he exclaimed.

Flower felt faint. “He can fly?!”

“HE CAN FLY!” shouted Peter Pan as he soared by.

Flower rolled his eyes. “Oh great. Like it wasn’t enough for this freak of nature to be infused with panda DNA. He had to get his paws on the pixie dust too?!”

“Well… you’ll simply have to overlook it,” said Bambi.

“Now how can you overlook that?!” exploded Flower. “He flies like a fucking fairy!”

Still, for the first year, Flower did a pretty fair job of hiding his… “non-conformity.” He kept Patches confined to the bowels of the backstage area, away from the other Disney characters and out of sight of the park guests, not wanting him to be confused with a certain Dreamworks panda known for his kung-fu prowess.

But Patches wasn’t happy staying hidden. And the day the Backstreet Boys came to perform at the park was the day the pandaskunk decided to do something about it.

***

“Husband! Husband!” chirped Leighanne Littrell, when she saw Brian trudging toward her down Main Street. His head was hung, but he looked up when he heard her calling him. “Husband, there you are!” Leighanne exclaimed, flinging herself into his arms with childlike exuberance. “You promised to take me and Bay on Splash Mountain!”

“Aren’t you going to nitpick my performance too?”

“I think you sounded wonderful!” gushed Leighanne.

Brian shook his head. “I was terrible,” he admitted.

Leighanne looked shocked. “Brian Thomas Littrell, don’t say such a thing! Any girl would consider herself lucky to be serenaded by you.”

“Yeah? But I didn’t sing very well today, did I?” He sighed, struggling to put the frustration he was feeling into words. “I wish… I wish…”

Leighanne smiled and leaned in close to him. Then, out of nowhere, she began to sing. “There’s always… tomorrow… for dreams to come true. Believe in your dreams, come what may…” Her voice, while not strong, was high and sweet. He couldn’t help but smile, in spite of himself. “There’s always… tomorrow… with so much to do… and so little time in a day.” She performed a little pirouette in the middle of the street, spreading her arms in a wide, sweeping gesture as she went on singing. “We all… pretend… the rainbow has an end… and you’ll be there, Husband, someday...” Prancing towards him, she put her arms around his neck, and they rocked slowly back and forth as she finished, “There’s always… tomorrow… for dreams to come true… tomorrow is not far aaaaa-way!”

“That was beautiful, baby,” Brian whispered, his voice husky.

Leighanne beamed. “I think I’ll record it for this year’s edition of Christmas With the Littrells!”

Brian looked at her sadly. “I don’t know if that’s going to happen this year.”

“But Husband!” Leighanne pouted. “It’s tradition!”

Brian sighed. “We’ll see.”

Leighanne looked disappointed, but she shrugged and said, “I guess I can always find another way to leech money out of your fans this holiday season. Hm… I know! A Wylee holiday gift bundle, featuring an autographed copy of the Olive Juice soundtrack! It’ll be a great way to get rid of all those extras we have lying around! You know your fans will buy anything with your signature on it – and mine, too, of course!”

“Yeah, sure, baby,” Brian agreed absently. Her incessant babbling was starting to hurt his head. He needed a break from her… from Wylee… from the Backstreet Boys… from everything. “Listen, baby, would you mind taking Baylee on Splash Mountain by yourself? I think I’d like to be alone for awhile. I have some thinking to do.”

Then he turned and walked away, leaving Leighanne to sulk and scheme.

After walking around the park for a long while, Brian decided to find a quiet place where he could sit and rest a spell. He had just lowered himself onto a bench when a rustling in the bushes behind him made him jump up again. He spun around, startled, just in time to see a furry face peeking out from the bushes. “Oh!” he cried. “Sorry, little guy. Did I scare you?”

He certainly didn’t expect to get a response, so he nearly fell from shock over when he heard a voice reply, “No. Who are you?”

Brian blinked. The creature in the bushes blinked back at him curiously. Shrugging, Brian answered, “Well, actually, I am a Backstreet Boy.”

“A… Backstreet Boy?”

“Well, I… used to be.” Brian hung his head. “Right now I’m just a scarf model, according to Howie.” Thinking back to the argument he’d had with his bandmates made Brian angry. When he looked up again, his eyes were filled with defiance. “But I don’t need him. I don’t need any of the guys. I’m… I’m going solo!” he declared.

“Yeah?” What appeared to be a panda poked its head out of the bushes. “Me too! I’m… whatever you said. Going solo!”

Brian smiled and patted it between the ears. “Hey, whaddya say we both go solo together, huh?”

As the panda crashed through the brush, Brian saw that it had a long, bushy tail, like a skunk. “You wouldn’t mind my… mutation?” asked the pandaskunk, floating a few feet off the ground.

Brian blinked, then shrugged. “Not if you don’t mind me modeling scarves and handbags for my wife’s company.”

The pandaskunk held out its paw. “It’s a deal!”

Brian shook on it. Then he hopped onto the pandaskunk’s back, and they flew over the park, singing, “We’re a couple of misfits! We’re a couple of misfits! What’s the matter with misfits? That’s where we fit in!”

“Why am I such a misfit?” lamented Patches the Pandaskunk. “I am not just a mustelid! I’m a hunk of a pandaskunk! Why don’t I fit in?”

“Why am I such a misfit?” echoed Brian. “I have not been pussy-whipped! You have no right to nitpick! Seems I don’t fit in.”

Together, they chorused, “We may be… different from the rest. Who decides the test… of what is really best? We’re a couple of misfits! We’re a couple of misfits! What’s the matter with misfits! That’s where we fit in!”

Now, these two didn’t have any idea about what they were getting themselves into. The world is a lot more complicated and dangerous than it seemed when they were flying over Fantasyland. As they were crossing over the Matterhorn into Tomorrowland, they heard an ominous roar.

“The abominable snowman!” gasped Patches. “He must smell my musk in the air!”

“Quick, let’s get back on the ground,” suggested Brian, whose fear of heights was making him queasy.

Like I said… the other worlds are up to their ears in danger.

***

Well, somehow Brian and Patches managed to get their feet back on the ground. But just as they were moving out of the shadow of the Matterhorn, a pair of massive, furry feet stepped into their path. The feet were attached to legs as long and thick as tree trunks, covered in shaggy, matted fur.

“Gadzooks! The abominable snowman strikes again!” screamed Patches. “We better run like crazy!”

The pandaskunk scampered away. Brian wanted to follow, but he found himself frozen at the Yeti’s feet. It was as if his eyes needed time to finish panning the rest of the way up the beast’s body first. The creature was so tall in comparison to Brian that it took quite a while, but when he finally caught sight of its face, he was shocked at how familiar it seemed. “Hey… wait a minute!” he exclaimed. “Patches, come back here! It’s okay! It’s just… Chewbacca!”

The wookiee threw back his shaggy head and roared triumphantly, seeming pleased at having been recognized.

While Patches approached cautiously, Brian smiled, a little bewildered. “What are you doing in Disneyland, Chewbacca?” he wondered.

Chewbacca responded with a series of grunts and moans that were unintelligible to Brian. “What’s he saying?” asked Patches in a whisper, keeping his distance from the wookiee.

“He said now that Disney owns the Star Wars franchise, he’s got free reign of the place.”

Brian recognized that sardonic voice. “Han Solo?!” he shouted in disbelief, as the rebel smuggler emerged from the Tomorrowland Terrace restaurant.

Han Solo smirked and held out his arms. “In the flesh.”

“Where did you come from??”

“Why, from a galaxy far, far away, of course.” Han snorted at his own joke. “Nah, I came from the Jedi Training Academy, right over there,” he said, pointing to a stage just beyond the terrace.

Patches shook his head, like a dog trying to dry itself. “You guys are gonna have to catch me up. I’m a little lost right now,” said the pandaskunk. “Who are you?”

“Who am I?” Han seemed to resent the question, but he answered anyway. “The name’s Han Solo. I’m captain of the Millennium Falcon.”

“And this is Chewbacca, his sidekick,” added Brian.

“Ah, I wouldn’t call him my ‘sidekick,’” warned Han, as the wookiee growled. “He prefers ‘co-pilot’ or ‘first mate.’”

“Sorry, Chewie,” Brian apologized quickly. “My mistake.” Turning to Patches, he whispered, “A wookiee has one weakness, and it’s the same as my wife’s. Watch this.” He removed the brown leather cross-body bag Leighanne had designed for him and offered it to Chewbacca. “Here… for you.”

The wookiee hesitated, then snatched the satchel from Brian’s hands and slipped it on over his head. As he was admiring his new man-purse, Brian caught Patches’ eye and winked.

“Well, if you’ll excuse us, Chewie and I have got to be going, right, Chewie?” said Han. With a bark of agreement, Chewie nodded.

“Where are you going?” asked Brian.

“Home for the holidays,” said Han, smirking. “Chewie’s home, at least, on the planet Kashyyyk. We’re going there to celebrate Life Day.”

Brian and Patches exchanged glances. “Uh… Mr. Solo? Could we go with you?” Patches asked, his panda eyes pleading.

Han grinned. “What, are you in some kind of local trouble?”

Patches shook his head. “No… it’s just… neither of us really fit in here.”

Han shrugged. “Okay. But it’s gonna cost you. Ten thousand, all in advance.”

“Ten thousand?!” spluttered Patches, but Brian was already reaching for his wallet. An intergalactic vacation was worth the high price, in his opinion.

“We can pay you two thousand now,” said Brian, counting a wad of money into his hand, “plus fifteen when we return.”

“Seventeen, huh?” Han smiled. “Okay, you guys got yourself a ship. We’ll leave as soon as you’re ready.”

Yes, sir, our friends were really on their way. But not one of them knew where they would wind up.

***

Now they were really taking their chances because, you see, the Millennium Falcon had run into a massive asteroid field.

“This field’s as thick as glitterstim,” Han complained.

“You mean a bamboo forest,” Patches corrected.

Han gave him a look of annoyance. “You eat what you like; I’ll eat what I like. Ow!” A sudden jolt caused his head to collide with the control column. “Something hit us!”

“No kidding!” said Brian, feeling queasy again.

Chewbacca bellowed in alarm, as warning bells went off all over the ship.

“What’s happening??”

“The ship’s been damaged. We’re gonna have to make an emergency landing,” said Han, his teeth gritted in determination as he fought to navigate his spacecraft safely to the nearest planet. As Chewie howled in protest, Han said, “I know your family’s waiting. I know it’s an important day. I’ll get you back there in time, pal, trust me.”

At that point, Brian could only close his eyes and pray. He felt the impact as they crash landed and thought for sure they were goners, for when he opened his eyes again, he saw only white.

“Where are we?” he heard Patches ask in a hushed whisper.

Wherever they were, it wasn’t Heaven. Brian became convinced of this when he looked around at the bleak, craggy landscape. White mountains of ice jutted out of the ground, pointing, dagger-like, at the steel-gray sky. “Is this Hoth?” he asked Han, somehow managing to recall the name of the ice planet from the first act of The Empire Strikes Back.

Han shook his head, an intense look upon his face. “We aren’t on Hoth. Wherever we are, it’s a planet I’ve never been.” He was staring straight ahead, and when Brian followed his line of sight through the windshield, he saw the point upon which Han was fixated: a formidable-looking fortress, perched precariously atop the highest peak. “I’ve got a bad feeling about this…”

Despite Han’s premonition, they disembarked the ship, eager to inspect the damage so they could repair it and be on their way. But no sooner had they set foot on solid ground than a voice shouted, “Halt! Who goes there?”

The weary survivors spun around to see a young woman, armed with a spear and wearing a sneer on her face. “Us, of course. Who’d you think?” replied Han, flashing her his trademark smirk.

“Oh, well, then that’s okay,” the woman started to say, then seemed to realize her mistake. “Okay?! Who, may I ask, are you?” Despite the forced politeness of her words, her tone was none-too-kind.

“We’re Brian Littrell, Han Solo, Chewbacca, and Patches the Pandaskunk, miss,” Brian introduced himself and his companions cordially.

The woman smirked. “Oh, I know who you are. I love the Backstreet Boys,” she said coolly.

“Really? Gee, thanks!” Brian was impressed; he’d had no idea the group had an intergalactic fanbase. “And who are you?”

“I’m the official sentry of the Planet of Misfit Fans. My name is-”

“Don’t tell me,” Brian interrupted with a knowing smile, having noticed the nametag she wore pinned to her shirt. “Mariah.”

“No. Audrey.” The woman smirked again.

“Audrey? But… your nametag says Mariah.”

“That’s my screen name. My real name is Audrey. But it doesn’t matter, because no one wants to talk to a douche who steals other people’s website graphics and posts them as her own without credit to the creator, then denies it. So I had to come here.”

“Where’s here?” Patches asked again.

At that point, the barren landscape became populated by hordes of strange people, who sang solemnly as they surrounded the new arrivals. “We’re on the Planet of Misfit Fans. Here we don’t want to stay. We want to be with the Backstreet Boys… sung to on the stage…”

Suddenly, the tempo of their song picked up, and the tone became more upbeat. “A crapload of noise from an army deployed, the millions of girls who love the Backstreet Boys. When BSB is here… the most wonderful day of the year! The stage manager waits for the fans to shout, ‘Come on! Don’t you know that it’s time to come out!’ When BSB is here… the most wonderful day of the year!”

Han raised his eyebrows at Brian, looking half-amused, half-terrified. “Didn’t realize you had such a following,” he muttered out of the side of his mouth. Brian shrugged, equally bewildered.

“Bras galore… scattered on the floor,” chanted the fans, waltzing around them. “And we’ll throw some more. Now let’s make some noise for Backstreet Boys!”

“A diamond for AJ…” sang one girl, holding out a ring.

“A t-shirt for Nick,” added another. “Did you know that Thor is our name for his dick?”

“When BSB is here…” they all chorused. “The most wonderful day of the year!”

Then a girl carrying a laptop came forward, sweeping her long, blonde hair over her shoulder. “How would you like to be a fanfic plagiarist?” she asked in a Danish accent.

“Or a fangirl with a Nick dummy and a creepy fake baby?” said another, cradling a blanketed piece of cardboard with a photo of adult Nick plastered over its “face.”

“Or someone who exploits her disability to get good seats?” added a third, tucking her hair behind her ears to make sure her hearing aids were showing. “We’re all misfits!”

“How about a ‘fan’ that doesn’t support you? IMO, I criticize everything you do!” scoffed one with frizzy hair, rolling her eyes.

“Or a batshit crazy hoarder who claims to have gotten pregnant through the internet?” sniveled a strange girl with a high, sweet voice, who, for some reason, had a huge heap of stuff piled on the bed behind her.

“Or a metal dude who weeps when he misses the Backstreet Boys on TRL and then whines about it on YouTube?” sulked a beastly, bearded man. “We’re all misfits!”

“If we’re on this planet of infamous fans, we’ll miss all the fun with our favorite boyband! When BSB is here… the most wonderful, wonderful, wonderful, wonderful, wonderful day of the year!”

“Hey, we’re all misfits too!” exclaimed Patches. “Maybe we could stay here for awhile!”

Ix-nay on the aying-stay, thought Brian, who was somewhat disturbed by the shocking display of mental illness he had just witnessed.

But before he could protest, Audrey the sentry said, “Well, you’ll have to get permission from Princess Kujo.”

“Who’s she?”

“She rules here. Every night, she searches the entire Internet. When she finds a misfit fan, one with no life outside of the fandom, she brings it here to be one of her minions, ‘til her narcissistic personality pushes it away. She’s holding court in her castle right now.”

The misfit fans lead them to Princess Kujo’s castle, where they were received by a Saint Bernard wearing a silver tiara. “Come closer!” she barked, as they entered her chamber. “What do you desire?”

“Well, we’re a couple of misfits from Earth,” said Patches. “And now, we’d like to live here.”

“No, that would not be possible,” the princess proclaimed, looking down at the pandaskunk with disdain. “This planet is for fans alone.”

“How do you like that?” muttered Han Solo, smirking at Brian. “Even among misfits, you’re misfits!”

“But perhaps,” the princess continued, foamy saliva spewing from her lips, “being misfits yourselves, you might help the fans here.”

“Help them?”

“Yes.” The Saint Bernard’s eyes, bloodshot from sty rabies, met Brian’s. “When, someday, you return to Earth, would you tell the other Backstreet Boys about their alienated fans? I’m sure they’d want to find a way to reach us. A fan is never truly happy until she has been serenaded by a Backstreet Boy.”

“When and if we ever get back, I’ll tell them, Your Highness,” Brian promised.

“Good,” said the princess. “You are free to spend the night… in my bed.” She winked at Brian, a little spittle dribbling down her chin. “Minions! Show our friends to my bedroom.”

It was awkward sharing a bed with another man, a Wookiee, a pandaskunk, and a crowned Saint Bernard, to say the least. Brian couldn’t sleep. While the others snored, he lay awake. Finally, he decided he couldn’t stand it another second, and so, he slipped out of bed and went for a walk to kill some time.

Time passed slowly, but Brian’s thoughts raced. He couldn’t stop thinking. And thinking made Brian realize you can’t run away from your troubles. And pretty soon, he knew where he had to go.

Home.

***

Back at Disneyland, a blue and yellow submarine floated beneath the waves, bubbling past a host of festive sea life. Inside the sub, the other four Backstreet Boys were in equally high spirits. “We all live in a yellow submarine… yellow submarine… yellow submarine!” they sang, all through the Finding Nemo Submarine Voyage, annoying the passengers around them.

Nick was in his element, and he was glad to see the others enjoying themselves. They had just gotten off the Matterhorn Bobsleds – Nick had called dibs on the front seat – and before that, they’d been on the Pirates of the Caribbean ride, where Nick had dared Kevin to sneak out of their boat and steal Captain Jack Sparrow’s hat. To his astonishment, Kevin had taken the dare! The old man must have mellowed in his old age, thought Nick, as he snapped pictures of Kevin in the captain’s hat, cackling hysterically the whole time. “This is the time… of Captain Jack Sparrow,” he sang, as Kevin posed at the helm of a pirate ship, where a holiday wreath had been hung on the wheel. “Pirate so brave… on the seven seas! Mystical quest… to the isle of Tortuga! Raven locks sway… on the ocean breeze!”

Being the Backstreet Boys was the only thing that had kept them from being escorted out of the park by security.

When Nick, Kevin, Howie, and AJ disembarked their submarine, they were surprised to find Brian waiting for them at the ride exit. “Hey, look who’s back!” exclaimed Howie. “Ol’ murse mannequin!”

Brian forced a tight smile as the others laughed.

“Yo, I thought you were gone for good,” added AJ, clapping Brian on the back.

“Where have you been?” asked Kevin, with a frown.

“And what’s that behind you?” wondered Nick, with a “What the fuck?” look on his face.

“Long story,” Brian said and beckoned Patches forward. “This is my new friend, Patches the Flying Pandaskunk.”

“Flying… Pandaskunk?” Now all of the Boys were giving each other “What the fuck?” faces.

“Dude…” Nick alone seemed to appreciate the epic randomness of a flying pandaskunk. “That is AWESOME!” He high-fived Brian, and suddenly, they were all friends again.

“Listen, you guys,” said Brian, as they strolled around the park. “There’s something we need to do… a promise I need to keep.” And he began to tell the other Boys all about his adventure to the Planet of Misfit Fans.

When Kevin, AJ, and Nick heard Brian’s story, they started to realize that maybe they had been a little hard on the misfit. Maybe misfits have a place, too. Even Howie realized that maybe he was wrong. “Brian, I promise, as soon as we find a way to get to that planet, we’ll put on an unforgettable show for all those misfit fans,” he said. “And if you want to keep modeling purses and scarves for your wife’s online store, it’s fine by me. Maybe she can make me one of those cross-body bags you’re always wearing.”

“Hey, what happened to your little man-purse?” Nick asked, noticing that Brian was no longer wearing it.

“I gave it to a good friend,” said Brian with a smile. Remembering where Chewbacca and Han had gone, he suddenly frowned. “But I don’t think we’re going to make it back to the Planet of Misfit Fans anytime soon. Our ride went to the planet Kashyyyk to celebrate Life Day.”

“It’s okay,” replied Nick. “We can take my rocketship.”

The Backstreet Boys blinked. “Your… rocketship?” asked Kevin in confusion.

“Yeah! You know…” Nick started to sing. “I think I’ll put my spacesuit on… so I can jump into my rocket!”

The other boys just stared.

“What?” Nick laughed. “You didn’t think that was all just a metaphor, did you? No, I really do have a rocket! I built it myself, using props I stole from the set of Fast Glass. Dolla dolla bill, yo!”

“O…kay. Well then… I guess we’re performing a Christmas concert on the Planet of Misfit Fans?”

“Let’s do it!”

“On three?” Brian put out his hand, and one by one, Nick, AJ, Kevin, and Howie placed their hands on top of his. “One… two… three… BACKSTREET!” they shouted.

Whilst their battle cry rang through the air, the Backstreet Boys raced to Nick’s rocketship, ready to put on the most stellar show of their career.

***

Meanwhile, on the Planet of Misfit Fans, the misfits were gathered around a meager fire, miserably roasting marshmallows so they could eat their feelings in s’mores.

“Well, it’s almost Christmas,” sighed Debbie Downer.

“Looks like we’re forgotten again,” sulked Negative Nancy.

“But Brian promised they’d come this time!” cried Wendy Whiner.

“I guess the journey was too much for them,” pouted Pessimistic Patty, rolling her eyes.

None of them could hear the roar of an approaching engine over the sound of their own complaining.

“We might as well just go to bed and start dreaming of death,” mumbled Clinically Depressed Chloe. “I hope I never wake up.”

“I haven’t any dreams left to dream!” moped Melodramatic Melanie. “We’ll never get off this planet! Never!”

“Fuck my life!” snapped Suicidal Susie.

“Fuck all our lives!” agreed Homicidal Holly.

“What a minute!” Attention-Seeking Ashley gasped suddenly. “What’s that?” She pointed toward a massive shape in the sky. “Is it-? Is it-?”

“It sure is! It’s the Backstreet Boys!” shouted Bipolar Becky, bouncing up and down. “You can hear their music from here!”

And sure enough, when they stopped their bitching and started to listen, they could hear strains of Backstreet Boys music drifting down from the clouds, as their spaceship made its slow descent to the ground. Upon landing, a computerized voice counted down. “Three… two… one… zero.” Then, to the sounds of “Larger Than Life,” the doors of the spaceship slid open to reveal the five Backstreet Boys.

“Ha-ha-ha… HA!” cackled AJ, leaping out of the ship.

Brian bounded out behind him and pushed him aside. “I may run and hide when you’re screaming my name, alright!” he sang, as the misfit fans shrieked with delight, and his voice did not break, for he had been healed by the powers of love and acceptance.

“But let me tell you now there are prices to fame, alright?” added Nick, attracting even more enthusiastic screams.

AJ threw his arms up and belted, “All of our time spent in flashes of li-ee-iy-ee-iy-ee-ight!”

“All you people, can’t you see, can’t you see?” they all chorused. “How your love’s affecting our reality? Every time we’re down, you can make it right, and that… makes you… larger… than life!”

For close to three hours, the Backstreet Boys sang and danced and pulled misfits fans onto their makeshift stage to serenade, making all their dreams come true. It was, indeed, the most stellar show of their career. But like all good things must, the show eventually came to an end. Christmas was only a few short weeks away, and the Boys were keen on celebrating it with their families back home.

“Well, we must be on our way,” Brian told the misfit fans, to widespread whining, crying, complaints, and threats of suicide. “Sorry,” he apologized, “but we really have to get home. Thanks for being such a great audience. We love you!”

Then the Boys turned and high-tailed it back to their rocketship, eager to get away from the crazed fanatics who might attempt to sabotage their departure. “Ready, Nick?” asked Kevin, once they were safely buckled into their seats.

“Ready, Kev!” called Nick from the cockpit.

“Okay, Nick! Full power!”

Nick turned on the rocket boosters and thrust down the throttle. With a sick, sputtering sound, the spaceship lurched forward and then came to a complete stop.

“What happened?!” AJ cried.

Inside the cockpit, emergency lights were flashing. “Call ground control ‘cause something’s wro-o-o-ong!” sang Nick, to avoid sounding too panic-stricken. “Dude, I don’t know, but I think we just lost our engine!”

“Oh no! Now what??” Howie was practically hyperventilating.

“I know!” Brian had stayed calm, the sole voice of reason. He turned to the pandaskunk strapped into the seat beside him. “Patches, with your powers of flight, won’t you pull our ship tonight?”

Patches’ furry face split into a big panda grin. “It would be an honor, sir.”

Everyone cheered, as Brian harnessed Patches to the front of the spaceship. “Up, up, and away!” he shouted, and the flying pandaskunk floated into the stratosphere, pulling the spaceship slowly through the air of desperation surrounding the Planet of Misfit Fans.

As they hurtled through space, the Backstreet Boys passed the time by doing the thing they did best: singing!

“Patches the Flying Panda… had a very skunk-like tail…” started Nick.

“And if you ever saw him,” continued AJ, “you would say, ‘Dude, what the hell?’”

“All of the other critters,” added Howie, “used to keep him in the dark.”

“They never let poor Patches… go out in the Disney park!” Brian rhymed.

“Then one day in Disneyland, Backstreet came to play,” crooned Kevin. “Patches met up with Bri and…”

“…Went to space with Chewie and Han,” finished Brian.

Howie smiled. “Then everybody loved him!”

“‘Specially when he pulled their ship,” sang Nick.

“Patches the Flying Pandaskunk…” they chorused, leaving AJ with the last line: “You are one badass hybrid!”

***

Our friends finally made it back to the Milky Way, where they were met by a most shocking sight.

“What the hell is that?” asked AJ, pointing at the massive object that was hurtling toward Earth.

Following his line of sight, Kevin squinted and shook his head. “I don’t know. What is that thing?”

“It’s enormous,” breathed Howie.

“It’s the size of Texas!” Brian estimated.

“It’s an asteroid, guys,” said Nick, his voice flat and emotionless. “And it’s on a collision course with Earth.”

“What kind of damage are we-?” Kevin started to ask, but the grim look Nick gave him was enough to silence him completely.

“Damage?” Nick blinked. “Total, dude. It’s what they call ‘a global killer.’ The end of mankind. It doesn’t matter where it hits – nothing would survive, not even bacteria.”

The other Boys stared at him. “How do you know so much??”

Nick shrugged. “I’ve seen Armageddon.”

The guys exchanged glances, and Howie whispered, “My god.”

“What do we do?” AJ wanted to know.

“What did they do in Armageddon? We drill, of course!” decided Kevin.

So that was what they did. After making an emergency lancing on the asteroid, they began to dig into its rocky core. “We will make eight hundred feet! I swear to God we will!” Nick pledged, determined to dig as deep as Bruce Willis had insisted they needed to in order to blow up the asteroid in Armageddon. And using the power of prayer, pandaskunks, and a little pixie dust, they did make eight hundred feet. Into the hole they dropped the nuke Nick had just happened to have brought along in the cargo hold of his rocketship.

“Now we just need someone to stay behind to detonate it,” said Nick.

“You mean you don’t have a remote detonator?” asked AJ.

“Wasn’t it enough that I just happened to have a nuclear bomb? Sorry, but no, it didn’t come with a remote detonator.”

They all looked at each other, as the meaning of Nick’s words sunk in. Someone would have to stay behind and sacrifice himself for the good of the world. But who?

“Should we draw straws?” suggested Howie.

The others shrugged, no one wanting to commit.

Then a lone voice said, “No.”

The Backstreet Boys turned to see Patches the Pandaskunk step forward.

“You five have families waiting for you at home. I have no one. It wouldn’t be right for me to go back in any one of your places. That would make me a saaaaad pandaskunk. Let me stay here and detonate the bomb.”

“Patches, no!” cried Brian.

“Please,” insisted Patches, holding up his paw. “Let me finish. You all have given me so much: happiness… acceptance… a magical adventure through space. I’d like to give you this one gift in return.”

“But… Patches…”

Patches closed his eyes. “Every pandaskunk dies,” he said stoically. “Not every pandaskunk truly lives.”

“But-”

“I mean, we all gotta die someday, right?” Patches went on. “I’m the pandaskunk that gets to do it saving the world.”

“But how will we get home without you?” blurted AJ. “Nick’s rocketship is broken, remember? Without your pandaskunk powers of flight, we’ll never get off this asteroid!”

“Oh…” Patches frowned, scratching his furry head. “I hadn’t thought of that. I guess you’re right. You need me. Someone else will have to stay and detonate the bomb.”

“Wait!” yelled Nick desperately. “I have another idea!”

As he scrambled to find a way to stall, he heard a ghostly voice in his head whisper, “Use The Force, Nick… Let go…”

“We’ll… use… The Force!” Nick sputtered.

The other guys exchanged skeptical glances. “But... Nick. You’re not a Jedi,” Brian pointed out sadly.

“Yeah-huh! I went through Jedi training that day at Disneyland! The Force is strong with me!” Nick insisted.

“Whatever, Nick.”

“No, really! Watch!” Nick closed his eyes and channeled all of his concentration, an extraordinary feat in itself. “Help me, Princess Leia… you’re our only hope.” He projected the words with his mind, adding, on second thought, “And please wear your metal bikini.”

At first, nothing happened. But just as the Boys were preparing to draw straws after all, a small ship landed on the surface of the asteroid, and out hopped their savior, clad in a white tunic and carrying a light saber. “I’m Luke Skywalker; I’m here to rescue you,” he announced.

“Where’s your sister?” Nick wondered, though he supposed Princess Leia’s twin brother was better than nothing.

“Leia’s celebrating Life Day with Han and Chewbacca on Kashyyyk,” replied Luke. “She used our twin mind powers to send me here in her place.”

“What is this ‘Life Day’ I keep hearing so much about?” wondered Howie, scratching his head.

Nick rounded on him. “Seriously, dude? Star Wars Holiday Special – look it up!” Turning to Luke, he asked, “Hey, can I hold your light saber?”

“Maybe later. First, we must leave this desolate place,” said Luke. “Come, get into my X-Wing Fighter! R2-D2 is waiting!”

“Suh-weet!” Nick shouted again, punching the air with his fist.

“Wait!” cried Brian. “What about the bomb?”

“I will stay to detonate it as planned,” said Patches. “You don’t need me anymore. Luke Skywalker will see you safely back to Earth.”

Brian threw his arms around the pandaskunk, burying his face in the black and white fur. He couldn’t bear to let go, but eventually, the other boys pried him off, as Patches prepared to be lowered into the hole they had dug. Watching through tear-filled eyes, Brian whispered, “I love you, Patches.”

Patches gave him a sad smile. “I know.”

Then he descended slowly into the depths of the crater, hell-bent on detonating that bomb.

The others watched him disappear into the hole. Then they turned and trudged sadly toward Luke Skywalker’s X-Wing Fighter for the long journey home. They only hoped that their plan would work, that the pandaskunk’s sacrifice would pay off.

***

“Disney, do you copy? This is Patches the Pandaskunk.”

Flower the Skunk looked up in surprise as the face of his demon spawn son appeared on one of the security camera monitors backstage. “Patches?”

“Hi, Dad.” Patches looked like a saaaaad pandaskunk. “Dad, I know I promised you I was coming home…”

“I didn’t even know you were gone.”

“But,” Patches sighed, “it looks like I’m gonna have to break that promise.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

A solitary tear streamed down the patch of black under Patches’ eye. “I love you, Dad.”

“Stop that; you’re creeping me out!” snapped Flower.

“Gotta go now, Daddy-O.”

As the screen cut to static, Flower turned to his friends Thumper and Bambi. “What the fuck was that?”

They just shrugged.

But by that evening, it was all over the news: with the help of a flying pandaskunk, the Backstreet Boys had prevented the 2012 apocalypse by blowing up the asteroid that was doomed to destroy the world.

The blast of the asteroid exploding was felt across the galaxies. In the midst of the Life Day festivities on Kashyyyk, Han looked at Leia. “I’m sure Luke wasn’t on that thing when it blew…”

Leia searched her feelings for a second, then shook her head. “He wasn’t,” she said, smiling. “I can feel it.”

“Oh, good.”

In fact, Luke was already entering Earth’s atmosphere with a shipload of Backstreet Boys to deliver home. When they landed, their families were there to greet them. Lauren leapt into Nick’s arms, hooking her long legs around his waist, the curve of his ass forming a perfect shelf for her feet. I ran around them in frantic circles, barking with excitement. Baylee bounded towards Brian, Leighanne hot on his heels. Kristin and Mason were there, too, and Leigh and James, and even Rochelle, who waddled as fast as her cankles would allow to get to AJ.

Everyone was cheering for the Backstreet Boys. Across the planet, people from every culture and creed celebrated in front of their TVs. In Disneyland, the characters danced, and on Endor, the Ewoks sang. Even the outcasts on the Planet of Misfit Fans could find no reason to be miserable. Their beloved boyband had saved all of mankind – and doggiekind, too! It was a Christmas miracle!

And that is why, every Christmas, we watch this classic cartoon featuring a flying pandaskunk and the Backstreet Boys blasting off into space, and we sing the words to their now-famous song: “And when the pandaskunk flies down, down, down… you know that Backstreet’s back in town, town, town! That’s when it’s Christmas time again!”

For Christmas, you see, is all about celebrating the Messiah, our savior, who made the ultimate sacrifice to save our souls. Sing it with me now, Boys!

“Patches the Flying Pandaskunk! He’ll go down in hiiii-stooo-ryyyyyyyyyyyyy!!!”


The End