In a mountain range not far from Agrabah, there lies a dormant volcano. Not long
ago, it was once used by Aladdin, Rasoul, and the rest of the palace guards to
imprison a powerful creature who had threatened Iago.

A loud crack of dried lava and stone announces to anyone within earshot, that
this creature has finally broken free.

A cloud of dust swirls violently, tossed this way and that by the swooping actions
of a pair of giant wings. Suddenly, a massive shape bursts straight upwards from
the rolling mass of dust and dirt. It reaches a height of 500 feet and then levels
off. It performs a few tight loops and aerial corkscrews to blow off the
accumulated debris before it settles on a neighboring outcropping of rock. Once
it has settled upon the stone, it stretches its purple scaly-feathered serpentine
frame to its full 50 foot length, groaning as it does.

"Oooooooh, man. That feels so good." Those words are spoken in an almost
unnaturally low voice. A voice that carries a distinct accent, one that is common
south of the border.

It is the voice of the King of the Rainforest.

The voice of Malcho.

As his pale green eyes scan the surrounding area for movement, he mutters to
himself, recalling the events that led him here.

"All of this because of one upstart of a parrot. First, that feathered pest, Iago,
attaches himself to that foppish bird, Thundra, who just happens to possess the
magic amulet and the mystical book for controlling the weather. When she
leaves, she proves that love is both blind and stupid, as she entrusted both of
those objects to that flying rat. As soon as she left, I was able to finally liberate
them and take my rightful place as el Jefe of the weather. I should have
destroyed Iago at that very moment, but he was a cunning adversary, who made
me believe that he could assist me as my lackey. I had Thundra and that genie of
his set up for the kill. But Iago talked me into using a certain combination of
spells which trapped me in a tomb of ice. Once I had broken free, I discovered
that I was banished from my warm comfortable Rainforest to the icy cold of the
frozen North."

Malcho paused his monologue for a moment as he shivered in recollection. No, it
wasn't just that. There was a noticeable chill in the air. Not nearly as bad as the
plummeting temperatures of the North, however. Shaking off those bitter
memories, he continued, the edge on his voice growing sharper and more
menacing.

"So, I flew south, to Agrabah, carrying a large portion of my icy prison with me,
until the sunlight melted it enough that I could shatter it in midair. Soon, after
slithering through the menagerie of the palace, I discovered that Iago was indeed
here. I spent a good portion of that afternoon devising a nasty revenge that would
haunt Iago for the rest of his life, which would last until I would simply eat him.
Time and time again, my plans for revenge were thwarted by the ruler of
Agrabah, that young heroic sultan, Aladdin. It was he who finally tricked me into
letting my guard down at that volcano."

Malcho glared in the direction of the city of Agrabah and hissed in anger.

"So now it is simply a matter of whom I wish to exact my vengeance upon first.
The parrot or the hero."

Malcho held out his wings before him, the pinfeathers forming individual digits.

"The parrot?" Malcho looked at his left wingtip, which slowly closed into a fist,
as if grinding Iago to dust within its grasp.

"Or the hero?" Malcho looked to his right wingtip, which closed slowly in a
similar fashion.

Malcho was about to let out a laugh, when a number of unexpected scents
assailed his nostrils. Instantly, he swiveled his head in their direction, and began
to salivate. It has been quite some time since he last ate. With a few powerful
flaps of his massive wings, he was airborne in the direction of his next meal.

As Malcho flew toward the scents of food, his eyes picked up aerial motion in
the distance. Not wishing to spook his quarry, he quickly dived to the ground
and flew below the treetops, using them as cover, his body snaking through the
canopy of leaves effortlessly.

Soon, he heard noises ahead of him. Opting for stealth, he landed and began to
slither over the ground. When his approached a clearing, Malcho cautiously
raised his head to observe what was transpiring.

In the clearing, he observe an injured human male, a relatively older one, by his
estimation. There was nothing of obvious value, for his clothing was in tatters.
There was a large crimson stain on his left leg, and a makeshift bandage was
wrapped haphazardly around his head. He was attempting to use a walking staff
to fend off a flock of half a dozen buzzards who considered him to be tempting
entree.

Malcho's forked tongue ran over his scaly lips. In a deep whisper, he spoke to
himself. "Ah, decisions, decisions, decisions." After looking at the scene for a
moment, he made his decision. With a bellowing hiss, Malcho exploded from the
underbrush.

Upon hearing the sound, the wounded man gasped in fright and turned just in
time to see a blur of purple. Then it was gone and he was bowled over by the
gust of wind in its wake. When his eyes focused again moments later, he was
shocked to see that three of the buzzards had simply vanished, and a fourth was
lying unconscious over thirty feet away, it's broken wing sticking up at a
frightening angle. He heard flapping to his left, and saw that the other two
buzzards were frantically flying away. Hearing a deep whoosh, he blinked and
saw that the blur of purple shot into view and passed over the furthest scavenger.
When it moved on, that particular buzzard was nowhere to be seen. The
remaining buzzard, seeing what had happened to its cohort, wheeled around and
flew back toward the stunned observer. Within seconds, the purple blur had
turned around and caught up with it. A sudden turn was made my the purple
creature, and a sharp crack, like the sound of a tremendous whip, was heard. A
second later, that final buzzard plowed lifelessly into the dirt at the feet of the
frightened human.

Shaking in abject fear, the old man looked up as the huge purple creature landed.
He was amazed to see a gargantuan winged serpent, with a mane of purple hair
atop its head, two thin antennas that looked oddly out of place, and a bushy
feathered tail. It seemed to take no notice of him at first, choosing to instead
slither across the ground to the broken body of the farthest buzzard. With swift
movement, the carcass was snatched up and lifted skyward in the creature's
enormous jaws, which then devoured the buzzard whole. It ran its snakelike
tongue over its lips, then turned toward him. Filled with terror, the old man
dropped his staff and tried to back away. The giant serpent slithered over
quickly, it's eyes seemingly focused on the dead buzzard before him. In an
instant, the body of the bird was snatched from the ground, brought up high, and
swallowed with unearthly speed. Its tongue once again ran over its lips in
satisfaction of a filling meal, and it hungrily salivated, expecting more. The old
man felt that he was going mad with horror, for he could have sworn that he
heard this huge creature speak.

"Six feathered scavengers, all of them tasteless and rancid. Not nearly as
delicious as that accursed parrot will be when I catch up with him."

After that statement, the huge beast turned its attention to the trembling human,
and slid forward. As it reared back like a cobra about to strike, the old man
clutched the remaining present for his daughter, a brightly colored doll, to his
chest, and prayed to Allah that his end would be swift and painless.

Time seemed to stand still, with no sound, other than the old man's whispered
prayers. After what seemed to be an eternity, the aged fellow cracked open an
eyelid.

He was amazed to see that the huge purple creature's attention was diverted. He
glanced over and saw what had distracted him. A large, bright scrap of cloth that
has been used to wrap the present that he wanted to give to his wife in Agrabah,
was now blowing aimlessly across the ground in the breeze. At the sight of it, he
was instantly reminded of all that had been taken from him just an hour ago.
Overcome by his loss, he began to weep in self-pity.

He was barely aware of the presence of the colossal serpent, as it turned its
attention back to him. Until he heard a single sound.

"Ahem."

The sound of a voice deeper than any baritone singer he had ever heard softly
called for his attention. Tears streaming down his face, he lifted his eyes, to face
whatever fate was in store for him. Much to his surprise, this incredible creature
did possess the power of communication.

"The chilly breeze. That scrap of colorful cloth." The winged serpent slowly
brought forth it's right wing, the feathers on the end balling up to resemble a hand
with a pointing index finger. "That small doll which you clutch to so tightly."

The avian-reptile crossbreed paused slightly, as if to gather its thoughts. Then it
continued.

"These signs all point toward the same thing." It slowly leaned it's snakelike body
forward, until it was gazing at the shivering human eye to eye. It then asked its
question.

"Is this the time of the holiday of the winter season?" Its low rumbling voice
asked in a manner that did not sound threatening, just gently inquisitive.

Unable to find his own voice, the old man just nodded dumbly. Then he thought
that this super-sized snake might become upset if he didn't respond. He cleared
his throat quietly and answered. "Yes, sir. Yes, it is." He tried to sound confident,
but his wavering voice refused to cooperate.

He was then stunned by the mystical serpent's reaction. He saw it rise up slowly
and extend it's right wing, forming the feathers to imitate a huge outstretched
human hand. It's voice, though still phenomenally deep, sounded actually jovial

"Then, amigo, in the spirit of the season, allow me to give you my assistance. I
am Malcho the Great, King of the Rainforest and visitor to the desert. And you
are?"

Looking up to the incredible creature in awe, the human instinctively raised his
arm to shake hands, as it were. "Achmed. I am a citizen of Agrabah."

Malcho smiled as best as a creature that looks like a giant snake could as he
pulled the human easily to his feet. Using his wings to brush off the dirt and dust
from Achmed, Malcho asked a few subtle questions.

"So, Achmed is it? How did you become injured, if I might ask?" asked Malcho
feigning concern.

"I was on my way home from another city when I was set upon by robbers, who
stole all of my holiday gifts that I was bringing home for my family." Achmed
moaned in sorrow.

"Banditos?!?" asked Malcho. Now his interest was genuine. As Achmed
recounted what he remembered, Malcho set about to trying to pick up the scent
of the ruffians.

"How long ago were you attacked, Achmed?" Malcho didn't even get up from
the ground that he was furiously sniffing when he asked.

Not quite sure of what was happening, Achmed answered. "About an hour or
so. Why, Malcho?"

Malcho let a sly smile spread across his face. "Because their scent is still fresh.
They shall be very easy to find." Malcho looked back and saw the injured human
hobbling forward. "You are going to come with me, amigo, to reclaim what is
rightfully yours." Noting the leg, and figuring that this particular human would
never be any threat, Malcho made a judgment call. "Hop aboard my back,
Achmed, right before my wings, and hold on tight."

Achmed stood there a moment, amazed that a huge predator was offering to help
him retrieve the goods that were stolen from him. At Malcho's insistence, he
climbed on his back, grateful for Malcho for providing an assisting push with his
wing.

Once he was securely seated, Malcho slithered forward with increasing speed.
Getting into a straightway, he called over his shoulder. "Hang on, amigo!" With
those words, he flapped his majestic wings and they soared skyward.

Following the freshly scented trail, Malcho had no trouble finding the cave
hideout of the thieves. He circled at a low altitude, noting the location of the
guard, before coming to rest in a patch of dense foliage. He told Achmed to slide
off and stay put.

Achmed wanted to assist, but was blocked by a mighty wing.

"No, Achmed. You must stay put. I work best when I am alone. Besides, if
anything were to happen to you, then I would have no idea of where to return
your body. So, stay here and stay down, until I call for you. Got it, amigo?"

Achmed reluctantly hunkered down in the dense brush, while Malcho slithered
out of sight. Scooting around, he found a comfortable, but well-hidden vantage
point which gave him a clear view of the opening of the cave. The guard stood
there, sword in his scabbard, not looking particularly alert.

It cost him dearly.

Faster then the blink of an eye, Malcho lunged forward and whipcracked his
feathered tail in the face of the guard. The limp body flew over fifty feet away and
landed in an unmoving heap.

Shouts and sounds of alarm came from inside the cave. They turned to
bloodcurdling screams of terror as Malcho swiftly slithered inside the cave
opening. The sounds that came from within that cave grew to such an awful state
that Achmed had to press his hands over his ears to try and block them out.

Achmed lost track of time, but snapped out of it when he felt a tap upon his
shoulder. Startled, he jumped and spun around, to find the form of Malcho
before him.

Forming his left wing into the shape of a fist with thumb extended backward,
Malcho pointed over his shoulder. "Would you like to go in there and pick out
the items that are yours, por favor?"

"It is safe to go in, now?" Malcho nodded. As Achmed got to his feet with
Malcho giving a powerful assist, he looked up into his benefactor's face. "May I
ask why you have chosen to help me with these robbers, Malcho?"

Malcho opened his mouth, but no sound came forth. He closed his jaws and
looked as if he were searching for the right words to use. Finally averting his eyes
slightly and gazing into the distance, he replied softly.

"I, too, have suffered the pain and humiliation of losing something I treasured to a
thief." Malcho shook his head slightly, pointed back to the cave entrance and
slithered away silently, lost in his private thoughts.

As Achmed hobbled toward the cave opening, he looked around. The guard's
body was nowhere to be seen. He glanced back at Malcho. 'By Allah, did he
become fatter since he went in that cave?' he thought.

Hobbling inside the cave entrance, he heard a drawn out belch behind him. He
then heard the deep voice of Malcho muttering. "Just as rancid as those
disgusting buzzards." Achmed shuddered in disgust and went inside. As he
feared, once he made inside, not a single body was to be seen.

There were various piles of treasure strewn about, but what caught Achmed's
attention was what he had wanted. In a far corner, the presents that he had
brought for his family lay in a heap. He sat down next to them, holding them up to
the torchlight. There was the dress for his wife, covered with dust, but otherwise
intact. There was the set of painted blocks for his son, scattered about carelessly.
There was the fruits that had been rummaged through, but not eaten. It was all
here. He gingerly placed them all in a nearby sack, and headed to the cave
entrance. He stood there for a moment, then looked back. The glitter of the coins
and jewels beckoned him, but he sighed sadly. 'Better to be honest and poor,
than to be a common thief, like they were,' he thought to himself. He heaved his
present-filled sack and walked out of the cave.

As his eyes adjusted to the brightness of the sunlight, he saw Malcho resting in a
sun-drenched patch of stone. As he approached, he thought, 'Yes, Malcho has
definitely gotten fatter since before.'

Malcho heard Achmed approaching. "Ah, there you are, Achmed. Have you
retrieved all of the gifts that you had bought for your family? As Achmed
answered, Malcho took an experimental sniff. Peering down at the sack, then
back up, Malcho asked an unexpected question. "May I see those gifts, por
favor?" When Achmed gave him a look in comprehension, Malcho added.
"Please?" He forced a pleasant smile to his face when he made that last request.

Not quite understanding why this unique creature would have any interest in the
things he wanted to give to his family, Achmed opened up his sack with a shrug.
He saw Malcho's head loom before him, inhaling deeply, forked tongue flicking
lightly over the gifts within. Then the giant mop-haired serpent's head drew back
slowly, a look of disbelief in the eyes of Malcho the Great.

"Now, you have surprised me, amigo. There were jewels and other glittering
shiny items in there that humans usually find of great value. May I ask why you
didn't touch any of those?"

Without a seconds pause, Achmed answered. "They were not mine."

Malcho the Great had seen the darker side of life, and had lived it for many
years. The laws of the Rainforest dictated that only the strong survive, and that to
the victor, go the property of the vanquished. He has seen that behavior
displayed by countless members of every species, humans in particular who
hunted animals in his domain. Yet here was a human who refused to do what
seemed to be natural for all creatures to do. And his answer made it all seem so
simple.

Then Malcho did something that he hadn't done for a very long time. He smiled.
Not a smile of malice, or a crafty smile. This was a smile of unanticipated and
barely restrained pride.

Drawing himself up to his full height, he made an offer to Achmed. After a little
wheedling, he persuaded the old human to take what was in the cave back to
Agrabah. "These items do no good to anyone here, Achmed. Take them back
home. If you cannot use them, then give them as gifts. Or give them to your
sultan. Or offer them to the leaders of your spiritual faith. But whatever you do,
please, take them." As a parting thought, he added. "Consider them a gift. From
Malcho the Great, to you."

Taken aback my Malcho's argument, Achmed stammered. "But I have nothing to
give to you, Malcho. After all, you did all the work here."

A hearty laugh came from the massive feathered snake. "You have given me
more than you know, amigo. You have given me a new perspective on humans.
And if you feel that you must give me more, then you can pass on some
information to me as I fly you back to Agrabah. Deal?" He again held out his
right wing to shake hands.

Achmed's eyes lit up upon hearing the offer from Malcho. Grasping the gigantic
wing, he shook it vigorously. "Deal."

Roughly ten minutes later, Achmed dragged out three more sacks containing the
bulk of the loot in the bandit's lair. Following Malcho's instructions they were
securely tied together and draped over the serpent's body like a perfectly
balanced harness. Climbing aboard, Achmed gave Malcho the okay sign.
Malcho nodded, took a deep breath, and slithered forward, gaining momentum
quickly. After instructing his passenger to hang on tightly, Malcho spread his
impressive wings and they climbed rather unsteadily into the sky. It took Malcho
a few tense minutes to compensate for the extra weight and drag of his cargo and
passenger, but once that was done, they sailed smoothly toward the jewel of the
Seven Deserts: Agrabah.

As they winged gracefully toward the city, Malcho constantly checked on his
passenger. My peppering him with questions, he made sure that Achmed was still
conscious and coherent.

He gained much useful information during his questioning as well. He discovered
that Aladdin was not the ruler of Agrabah, but a young hero favored by the
court. Malcho learned that the true Sultan was a much older man, who had the
respect and the love of his citizens.

Malcho also found out that there was a beloved Princess, his daughter Jasmine.
She was revered for her wisdom and beauty. He smiled as he thought of
long-term plans. 'Perhaps either the Sultan or the Princess will be easier to deal
with than that meddling hero, Aladdin. After all, I have no desire to threaten a
whole city just to get a single bird. Maybe I can persuade them to simply hand
over the parrot.'

As the chilled wind whistled past them, Achmed told Malcho stories of great
conflicts between Aladdin and the various villains who constantly plagued
Agrabah. Malcho listened intently, making mental notes on enemies to avoid and
who he might possibly conspire with if the need ever arose.

After a little while, the city loomed below them in the darkness. Malcho turned
his head back and gave his passenger fair warning. "Now I am going to have to
sneak you into the city, Achmed. I am not exactly a welcome guest of the ruling
class of Agrabah. Hold on and remain quiet." Before Achmed could respond,
Malcho dipped sharply and dove straight down to the darkest part of the city.

Achmed clung tightly to the scaly wings of Malcho as he leveled off and flew at
rooftop level over the city. After a few moments, Achmed tapped Malcho on the
neck and pointed down to a small hut. Malcho spotted it, nodded, and swept his
wings out, to slow his descent. Spying torches on the street, he flapped his wings
strongly to extinguish them, giving him the darkness that he needed to make a
covert landing.

Once he hit the ground, he quickly assisted Achmed off his back and bit through
the ropes that held the treasures. Grabbing a sack in either wing, and the third in
his jaws, he followed Achmed to the door of his hut.

He slithered ahead and placed all three sacks softly on the steps before his door.
Turning quickly, he placed a wing over his lips, to tell Achmed to be silent.
Achmed nodded, understanding perfectly.

"I cannot stay, Achmed. If you are asked how you came to arrive here tonight,
tell them..." Malcho paused slightly, then smiled as he continued. "Tell them that
you were saved and assisted by Malcho the Great. And if you happen to see a
very loud and obnoxious parrot with red plumage and blue wingtips, swat him off
his perch and tell him that Malcho says, 'Hola.' Okay?"

Achmed grinned and offered his hand. "I shall, Malcho the Great. Thank you for
everything."

Surprisingly, Malcho returned that smile with a genuine one of his own. Putting
his right wing forth, they shook hands. "You are very welcome, Achmed. Now,
spend this holiday with your family. Feliz navidad, amigo."

Malcho heard the sound of palace guards making their rounds. He drew back,
gave a quick wave, and swooped skyward, to disappear over the roof of a
larger building across the street.

Achmed gathered up the bags and opened the door to his hut. Almost
immediately, he was greeted with young squeals of delight. "Daddy! Daddy!"
came the elated cries of his children. He pushed the bags in and was almost
knocked back out into the street by his daughter who gave him a big hug, quickly
followed by his son, and then joined moments later by his wife.

As he greeted his loving family, he slowly closed the door behind him. "Have I
got a story to tell you, about a noble creature named Malcho the Great." Then
the door shut.

In the darkness that surrounded the tops of the buildings, Malcho watched that
entire exchange with a wide smile and a heart that kept him warm in the cool
night air of the desert. Upon seeing the gathering at the door, he was immediately
reminded of the similarities between that and the reactions of animal families in his
Rainforest. Strangely enough, that thought did not make him hungry, like he
thought that it would. Perhaps he was still stuffed. After all, he had just eaten
eleven bandits and half a dozen buzzards. He sighed heavily. 'Yes,' he thought,
'an after dinner siesta is definitely called for.'

As he took to wing, he looked over his shoulder at the rapidly shrinking city that
lie behind and below him. Taking a deep breath of the crisp winter air, he spoke
his peace.

"Feliz navidad, Agrabah. Enjoy the holiday season, the wishes that are fulfilled,
and the peace that it brings. For the magic of this season never lasts as long as
we want it to."

Malcho banked sharply and flew toward an oasis that he had spotted on an
earlier journey. To sleep off his feast, to plot the demise of Iago, and possibly
Aladdin, and to enjoy the winter holiday in his own way.

The End