“Okay. I’m proceeding into the house right now. ”
“Be careful, Dali. ”
“Always am. ”
XII.
Dali entered the backdoor of Kay’s house and tripped over a shoebox. Like a cat, he soundlessly caught himself before he fell.
He slowly tip-toed across the floor and perused the room in order to gain more information about the woman who may or may not have kidnapped Santa Claus.
It looked like the typical living room of a single woman except for one thing. In the middle of the floor between the couch and the television, there was a giant snail shell covered in thick, red spirals.
Dali shuddered when he looked at the snail shell. There was something wrong about it and it wasn’t because it was so out of place. The snail shell started to pulsate and hum.
What the fuck?
Dali quickly slid across the floor away from the shell. He wanted to find Santa Claus and be done with the whole assignment. The humming got louder even though
Dali was getting farther away from the shell. When he made it to the last room down the hallway, the hum was nearly deafening.
Though it was probably not the stealthiest of moves, he barged into the room. He could sense there was someone else in there with him but he didn’t see anyone because of the darkness.
Then a muffled voice said, “Let me outta here!”
XIII.
Smitty had never seen Diana so angry.
Sure, he knew that Santa’s past indiscretions had affected her but he had been hoping that she’d get over it. He’d also been hoping that the whole thing with the Elves of Fuck was just a coping mechanism, a ritual to help her through the pain and paranoia before she called the whole thing off.
But that wasn’t the case.
She was really going to have her husband killed. He almost felt like he should do something about it.
It wasn’t that Smitty cared that much about Santa Claus. The truth was the guy was a real asshole, especially to Smitty. It was no secret that Santa didn’t like animals. He hated having to rely on the reindeer and had, on more than one occasion, been accused of abusing them. So when Smitty arrived in the North Pole, the big man didn’t take too kindly to a hairy humanoid squid making friends with Mrs. Claus.
So now Smitty had to deal with his conflicting emotions. On one hand, he didn’t want Diana to have to deal with such a bastard of a husband. On the other hand, the death of Santa Claus would bring about a whole shit storm of trouble for the entire North Pole.
What bothered Smitty the most was the kids. Though he himself never celebrated Christmas, he loved hearing how the holiday brought such happiness to the children of the world. He wasn’t even jealous about it. He sincerely enjoyed seeing others happy, especially innocent children.
Smitty saw Diana in front of the toyshop. She was smoking again, which was a bad sign. He slowly approached her and said, “Hey.”
Diana quickly flicked the cigarette into a pile of snow. “Oh, hey Smitty.”
“Back to smoking, I see.”
She frowned. “Sorry.”
“You’re a big girl. You can do what you want but you know those things are no good for you.”
“Neither is a shitty husband.”
Smitty looked her straight in the eyes.
“But you’re taking care of that, aren’t you?”
“Oh my god, Smitty, you’re really going to give me a guilt trip now? You know the shit I’ve been through and you’re going to make me feel guilty about finally taking a stand?”
Smitty turned his back to her and was silent for a few seconds. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be so nasty. I guess it’s just that I disagree with what you decided to do.”
“You don’t have to agree, Smitty. It’s not your marriage. Not your life. You can leave here and it won’t make a difference to you. But me? I have to stay.”
“Do you want me to leave, Diana?” Smitty said. His tentacles spread out into the snow like a bridal gown. “Don’t be ridiculous. You know that’s not what I
meant,” Diana said. “I’m tied down to this place. You’re free to go wherever you please. I’m not saying I want you to go. I’m just saying that’s how it is.”
Smitty moved a hairy tentacle up to Diana’s face. “I know. I’m sorry. I just wish there was some other way to straighten this whole thing out.”
“Me too. You don’t think I’ve thought about it? I have. I’ve spent months trying to figure out another solution but that bastard just makes it difficult for me. What’s done is done. There’s no going back.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of,” Smitty said. “That’s what I’m afraid of.”
XIV.
Dali found the light switch and flicked it on so he could see where the voice was coming from.
In the corner of the room there was a man on the ground, his head enclosed in what looked like a wooden toilet.
“Whoa, what the hell?” Dali said. “Santa, is that you?” He knew it was a stupid question. The man was dressed in the traditional red and white Santa suit. Who the hell else could it be?
“Yes, yes! Who are you? Let me out! I can’t move my body!”
Even though his original assignment was to kill Santa, he sort of felt bad for him. The guy was trapped in what looked like a homemade toilet and was paralyzed from the neck down. But that would mean he wasn’t in the house by his own free will. The woman had kidnapped him just like Aleph had suspected. That changed everything.
He walked over to the man, pulled away the black silk
that acted as a sort of toilet seat, and peered in.
The man who looked up at him was a far cry from the Santa Claus that Dali imagined. His white beard was covered in red and green globs. His nose was clogged with goo.
“Hold on. I’ll get you out.” But before Dali could do that, something came into the room and ate him.
XV.
When Santa saw the ugly elf look down at him, he couldn’t help but feel embarrassed. He must have looked like hell. But then that didn’t matter. He was saved. That is, until he heard something enter the room.
The ugly elf went out of view and what Santa heard made him want to vomit. It sounded like a hundred crabs fighting over a pile of jelly. Then there were the ugly elf’s screams muffled every few seconds until they ceased altogether. That was when Santa knew that any chance of his being rescued disappeared along with that ugly elf.
Once the noise died down, the lights went off and whatever had come into the room left.
Santa Claus was left alone in the dark. The globs on his face started to slide off into his ears. Then he heard the voice.
“Open your mouth, Santa. Open and say aaaaaaaaaa- aaaaah!”
XVI.
Though Aleph had cut direct telepathic connection to Dali, he felt the exact moment of his death.
I knew it. I knew something was wrong.
But what? The woman had left the house so did that mean Santa killed Dali? That was difficult to believe. Dali was an expert in both hand-to-hand combat and with throwing knives. That fat bastard Santa would have been no match for the elf.
Aleph tried to initiate contact with Dali, hoping there was still a chance that he was alive, but there was no response.
Dali was dead.
Though his first instinct was to barge into the house and deal with things himself, Aleph knew the wise decision was to call for backup. The situation had to be rectified and the Elves of Fuck always took care of business.
Just as he was going to set up a link to another elf, he saw Kay walk up to the front of the house. Shit was going to hit the fan when she found the dead elf inside.
Better talk with Mrs. Claus first. It’s always best to check with the client whenever there’s a problem.
Aleph closed his eyes and concentrated on his third eye. With a flash of light he was gone from the hill outside Kay’s house and was transported instantly to the North Pole.
He walked d
own the street, watching the hateful eyes of the Christmas elves. When he reached Diana’s house, he saw the squidfoot outside.
Aleph said, “I’m looking for Mrs. Claus.”
“So?” Smitty said.
“Can you get her for me?”
“I could.”
Aleph stood and waited for the big, hairy thing to go inside to retrieve Diana but instead, it just stood there staring at him. Finally, Aleph said, “Well?”
Smitty took a step forward, his tentacles brushing snow up into a cloud that nearly covered Aleph. “If I was so inclined, yes, I could go get Diana. But I don’t take orders from elves.” He flicked a tentacle straight up into the air. “Especially killer elves.”
Aleph took a step forward. He had no time for this shit. “Listen, I don’t really know who you are or what kind of relationship you have with Mrs. Claus but my need to speak with her is for her benefit and not mine. So if you care about her even a little bit, you’ll go get her or else I’ll walk right past you and get her myself. Stand in my way and I’ll go through you.”
There were a few seconds of tense silence and then Smitty said, “Fine. I’ll get her.”
Aleph watched the squidfoot go into the house. He was relieved it hadn’t developed into a physical confrontation. Though he wouldn’t have hesitated to kill, Aleph preferred not to do it for free.
Diana walked out and stood on the front porch with her arms crossed. “With all due respect, I don’t appreciate your threatening my—”
“Your husband has been abducted, Mrs. Claus,” Aleph said. He watched the woman’s face turn from annoyed to devastated.
Through tears she said, “By that woman?”
“Yes, that seems to be the case.”
Diana said, “So he wasn’t cheating on me?”
“Well, I can’t say for sure if it started out like that. Maybe he meant to do it and it turned out she was a psycho. I don’t know. The point is that he’s most likely in real danger now and I’m asking if you want to officially call off the hit. If so, my elves and I will rescue him.” Aleph took a step closer. “I have to warn you. There’s a chance that your husband may get hurt, or worse.”
“What do you mean?”
“If we go in there, it’s going to be with guns blazing. I sent in an elf to investigate the situation before we knew for sure. The woman wasn’t even in the house. My elf was killed.”
“By who? My husband?”
“I doubt it. But this isn’t just a regular kidnapping, so I’m warning you. The woman is dangerous. So, officially, do you want to cancel our agreement?”
Diana nodded. “Yes. Please get him back, Aleph. Please.”
“I’ll do my best.” With that, the elf closed his eyes and disappeared. He reappeared on the hill next to Kay’s house. He wished he could blow the whole thing up. It had been a long time since he’d worked with explosives.
Aleph had already told Gimel to report to the house. But he wasn’t enough. Aleph needed someone who was more dangerous, deadly, and qualified to deal with unusual situations.
He needed the Elf Piercer.
XVII.
Santa watched the dancing sugarplums fart and burp strands of yellow ectoplasm.
He couldn’t remember how long he had been locked in the bitch-box but it felt like months. The sugarplums splattered him with more goo, filling his nostrils, his ears, and the corners of his eyes. His mouth was already stuffed with her musty pantyhose that smelled like vinegar.
The ceiling above him was covered in those goddamn sugarplums.
I’d give anything for someone to poke out my eyes. I can’t
stand looking at those bastards anymore.
A small sugarplum hung from the ceiling on a bright blue spider web. It burped and oozed on Santa’s beard. His chin started to tingle and then he heard the clip-clop.
Clip-clop.
Clip-clop.
Kay was coming.
CLIP-clop.
CLIP-CLOP.
“Santa oh Santa!” Kay said, her voice coming from the doorway. She walked slowly up to the box, the clip- clopping getting soft and more sinister. “I have a surprise for you.”
Her face appeared above him, blocking out the sugarplums. Santa was again in awe of her beauty despite it being torture just to look at her. She pulled the pantyhose out of his mouth and drooled down his throat.
Santa had no choice but to swallow but there were still remnants in his mouth. He said, “Out.”
“What’s that? I can barely hear you with all that... mess in your mouth. You say you want out, honey bunch? That’s so cute.” She leaned forward, drooled onto his lips, and then stuck her fingers into his mouth. “Here, let me wash your mouth out.”
Santa sat petrified. More spit. More fingers digging around in his mouth, scrubbing his tongue and teeth with Kay’s drool.
“Clean, clean, clean. Squeaky, squeaky clean,” she said, making Santa gag with her spit-fingers. “Okay, I think that’s enough.”
Kay pulled her hand out of his mouth and let Santa gasp for air.
“I’ll be right back, honey bunch.”
Santa watched her head move away, giving him full view of the sugarplums. They seemed to have multiplied. Dozens of them were circling him, farting their ectoplasm into the air. Star and circle shapes formed out of the goo until they coalesced into a giant wheel that started to turn.
A wheel? Can I make a unicycle out of it? A unicycle made out of sugarplum shit. That’s a good one. It’ll be next year’s hottest toy.
A smaller wheel appeared in the middle of the big one. Each one turned in the opposite direction, creating a wind that blew the sugarplums across the room and away from Santa much to his delight.
Thank you, sugarplum-shit unicycle. Thank you.
XVIII.
Shaw, also known as the Elf Piercer, packed his weapons: two long chains with meat hooks on the ends of them. It had been a long time since they’d tasted some meat. It was going to be a good day.
It had also been a while since Shaw was called for an assignment. He had usually been reserved for only the most dangerous missions because he had the tendency to go overboard. From what he was told about the target, Shaw knew that going overboard might just be what was necessary.
Shaw looked at himself in the mirror. “Hell yeah,” he said. He closed his eyes and teleported to the location Aleph had specified.
He arrived instantly to find Aleph and Gimel waiting for him.
Shaw nodded at the two of them.
Aleph said, “It’s been a while since I’ve required the skills of the Elf Piercer.”
“No one really calls me that anymore,” Shaw said. “It’s a pretty stupid nickname.”
Gimel gestured toward Shaw’s weapons. “I think it’s well-deserved.”
“No one asked you,” Shaw said.
“I’m just saying. You’re the only elf to ever—”
“Shut the hell up, Gimel!” Aleph said. “We’re here to take care of business, not discuss ancient history.”
Gimel shrugged. “Whatever. Let’s do this.”
Aleph looked at Shaw. “You ready?”
“Yeah.”
Gimel cocked his guns. He put on the glove he reserved for special jobs: a glove made out of bone and shaped like a monstrous penis. Those elves in Tokyo sure knew how to construct a weapon of torture.
Shaw, the Elf Piercer, grabbed a chain with each hand and pulled them off his belt. The hooks were newly sharpened and shined in the moonlight. “I can’t wait to get my hooks wet,” he said. “Nice and wet.”
Aleph looked at the other two and was glad he had them on his side. In recent months, the Elves of Fuck had gone through quite a bit of downsizing due to the economy. The company simply could not afford to have as many elves on the payroll as in the past and the elves that were on the payroll were paid on a job-to-job basis. The concept of salary-elves was gone.
Though not as creatively armed as Gimel or Shaw, Aleph had a weapo
n that had proved its worth over the years: the actual sword used by Saturnalia at the Battle of
Xaman. The sword, crafted out of black elephant bone, was taller than Aleph but he could wield the weapon like a master swordsman.
“Gimel, you take the back. Shaw, you have the side that’s facing us. I’ll come through the front,” Aleph said.
“Are we teleporting in or what?” Gimel said.
“Yeah. We need the element of surprise. Dali couldn’t teleport and maybe that’s why they were able to get him. I’ll be honest with you. There’s something weird about that house so I can’t promise you what’s going to happen in there. So let’s get ready. On the count of three we go.” He closed his eyes.
“One.”
Shaw closed his eyes.
“Two.”
Gimel closed his eyes.
“Three.”
All three elves disappeared in flashes of light.
XIX.
Tortured by an angel. If I ever get out of here and have a chance to make a TV show, that’s what it’s going to be called.
Santa was mentally numb to the sugarplums and to the drool clogging nearly every facial orifice. He just wanted out of there.
Santa heard Kay’s footsteps. There was the usual clip- clopping and then something different. A slapping sound on the hardwood floor.
Her face appeared above him. “Guess what? I have a surprise for you.”
“Errrrrrrrrrrrrr,” was all Santa could say.
“You see, honey bunch, if you have been paying attention you know I’ve been wearing my high heels this whole time. They look great on me, don’t you agree?” She slapped him in the face. “Right?”
“Errrrrrrrrrrr!”
Kay bent down, picked up her shoes and held them up so Santa could see. “These here glittery beauties have been on my feet for six days. And when I say six days I mean twenty-four hours a day. You see, Santa my dear, I don’t sleep. Never had to, never wanted to. So I have worn these shoes all day for six days.” She brought a shoe to her nose and smelled the inside. “Ewww, what a god-awful smell! Really, really rank. Does that turn you on? A woman with smelly feet?”
Christmas on Crack Page 3