It was quickly surmised that Lydia didn’t make it home.
Rudy said, “At least we have the pies. We should get cleaned up and eat.”
“Well, I am really hungry,” Staci said.
“Me, too,” said Skipp, laying his shotgun across the counter.
“We really shouldn’t waste all this food, and if we don’t
get to it soon, it’s going to be ruined,” Rainey said.
Gerald moaned, “Lydia would have wanted it this way.” “Okay,” Rudy said, “If you girls would get the dinner together, we’ll block all the windows and doors. I think I could start up some home movies. I’ll turn it up real loud so you can be sure to hear. Let’s clean up and get to feasting!” Everyone scattered to various doors and windows, blocking them off with furniture. Then they all found sinks to get clean. Crabs swept past the house now and then, and sometimes skittered across the roof. They seemed to be busy chasing people and cars down the street, mostly ignoring the house.
Rudy made a phone call and wrote an email to Andy, hoping he got some crabs for Christmas and wishing him a happy New Year. Then he washed his hands and face and went back to the living room.
He put in the Olen Christmas DVD but left the TV on the news for a moment, watching scenes of crab armies marching through cities and towns. The reporter was talking about the military’s failing effort to control the crabs. He said that more and more crabs were coming to life, and that they were growing even bigger. The picture was scratchy and the newscaster’s voice wavered in and out. Rudy turned it to the DVD when Skipp wondered aloud how many more shotgun shells they had.
Rudy heard a rustling sound and looked over to the fireplace. The cat was hiding under the tree. He figured she must have made the noise, batting at ornaments. He let his gaze wander, and noticed that the stockings hanging from the mantle were still full of gifts. He could see candy sticking out of Staci’s.
“Kids!” he exclaimed. “There’s stocking stuffers!”
He leapt up and pulled down all the stockings. Everyone’s stocking was there, packed tight with gifts.
“Come see!”
Staci and Rainey came in. The kids dumped their stockings out.
“Sweet! Lizard Zombie Apocalypse III!” Skipp shouted.
“Nice, thanks guys,” said Staci, pocketing gift cards, clasping jewelry, and replacing the candy.
There was a scuffling sound near the fireplace again.
The fire went out. Gas continued to pour out of its burners.
Thin, barbed legs swept out of the chimney, followed by black eyes on stalks. A tremendous claw snaked its way out.
“Fuck!” Rainey yelled. She snatched up Skipp’s shotgun that was leaning against the couch, snapped it closed, and blasted at the crab.
She hit one of its eyes, and all of its exposed legs. Bricks fell. Dust exploded into the room. The crab screamed, falling into the room in a hail of masonry and blood. Rainey pulled the second trigger.
The blast hit the charging crab straight in its mouth, driving it back into the pile of bricks. It flopped onto its back, and struggled to flip itself over—kicking at the tilted Christmas tree. It hooked a string of lights in its claw and fired its laser. A blast shot through the ceiling, burning a hole through two floors and the attic roof. The laser beam severed the string of lights, and the resulting spark set off the cloud of gas pouring into the living room.
Something slightly less than an explosion filled the room with just under a second of fire. It crisped the flailing crab, and knocked everyone backward.
The scampering crab righted itself as the fireplace went back to burning like a comfortable log fire. Rudy blasted the crab, splitting it in half and splattering the wall with blood.
Guts sizzled in the fire and on the tree.
The crab kicked and died. It kicked some more.
The living room and everything in it was singed. All bore a black patina.
Rudy coughed. “Well. I’m glad we got those stockings off the mantle before it was torn apart.”
Everyone agreed.
Skipp righted the TV. It seemed to work. He started the DVD again.
Bricks fell on the mangled crab corpse.
Rudy shut off the gas to the fireplace and unplugged the tree. He kicked at the crab. “Stupid jerk,” he said.
On the screen, Christmas music played in the living room. The second best tree in of all time was crammed in the very same corner of the living room where the blackened tree, covered in crab guts, stood now, and all the family was gathered around it. The grandparents were mostly asleep, and a slightly smaller Skipp was running around, tickling them.
Off the screen, Rudy sat down with Skipp and Gerald on the couch. Rainey and Staci went back to putting food on the table. The old man asked why he didn’t have a shotgun. Skipp shrugged. They watched the DVD of their previous Christmas. It seemed pretty boring.
“I wish I’d have gotten that new phone,” Skipp said.
“Oh, you totally did,” Rudy told him.
“Damn.”
“Yeah.”
“Fucking crabs.”
“Got a smoke?”
“Rudy!” Gerald said, “You don’t smoke.”
“Shut up and watch last year, Dad.”
Rudy and Skipp went to the garage.
When they came back, the table was filled with food. Gerald was asleep on the couch.
“Let’s just let him sleep,” Rudy said. “He’s had a big day for an old guy.”
Outside, more explosions rocked the house. Something landed on the roof with a thud.
Rainey called them to dinner.
On the TV, she did the same.
Rudy stood at the head of the table and carved the turkey and ham.
Skipp sat facing out the window. He noticed the Assholes’ house was on fire.
Staci looked up at her dad. She said, “This is all so gross. I’m not eating. Skipp still has crab guts in his hair.” “Do not.”
“You do too, you fucking gimp. Learn how to wash.” “Are you kidding? We’re all covered in crab-soot.”
She stuck her tongue out at him. It looked very pink against her blackened lips.
Rudy put a piece of turkey on her plate.
Rainey said, “Ruuuuudy.”
“It’s Christmas,” he said.
A limousine crashed through the living room. It broke through the wall, scattering pieces of building material, ornamentation, and furniture. The TV flew into the still-sleeping Gerald and crushed him to death. Two plywood candy canes still lit with Christmas lights whipped through the room like shuriken and stuck in the wall above the table—blinking.
A chair tumbled across the dining room, wiping out everyone’s plates, and nearly taking off Rudy’s head. He dodged the chair and smiled triumphantly at the car rocking in the settling dust.
The cat sprang from under the tree remains, bounded over the long trunk of the car, and launched from its TV antenna, soaring through the hole left by the car, and into the snow. They heard the cat hiss as she ran off.
Rudy gathered up his family as they staggered from around the shattered table. “Kids, Rainey, I’ve got a very special Christmas surprise for you.” He walked them toward the limo.
The driver got out smiling and opened the door for them, kicking aside some couch cushions and bricks. Crabs clamored to get into the hole in the wall, but the car blocked them. They tore at the wall and the limo, screaming. A laser beam blasted into the chandelier, dropping it onto the table in a burst of sparks.
More crabs gathered in the yard. They scratched at the walls and crowded around the hole, picking at drywall and brick. Lasers started blasting through the room, cutting the walls to pieces and knocking chunks of the ceiling free.
Rudy helped his family into the car. He tossed the shotguns in to Skipp. Rudy paused before he got in and said to the driver, “Thanks for coming early!”
“No problem, Mr. Olen. I wasn’t doing anything but driving around avoiding these giant cr
abs, anyway. I was glad to get your call.”
Something exploded upstairs.
Dust and smoke billowed through the room. The lasers made it look like a disco.
The happy driver closed the door, scrambled over the hood, and got in the car.
He drove into the crabs trying to get into the house, smiling back at the family. The crabs beat at the limo as it smashed into them. The car pinned one crab against a tree and crushed it. Another aimed its laser at them, but the driver peeled out straight for the huge crustacean, and it jumped into the air, firing crazily into the Asshole’s burning house. Other crabs scampered into the house, eating Gerald, the ham, and the turkey.
The limo driver announced, “Merry Christmas, Olen family! Welcome to your vacation. First stop, the airport. I hope you have a wonderful trip.”
Rudy smiled at the driver and then to his family. “I’m sure we will,” he said, “I’m sure we will.”
Rainey smiled tentatively.
“Kids,” Rudy asked, his eyes focused far away in some fantastic future, “what do you think about a cruise around the world?”
Skipp and Staci shrugged at each other.
“Oh, Rudy,” Rainey said.
The Olens watched out the windows. Laser bursts lit the air around them. Crabs slid across the ice, chasing down families and eating them.
Rudy poured a hot chocolate and rum from the bar for everyone. He looked adoringly at his bedraggled family.
“Merry Christmas,” he told them.
They raised their mugs in a toast.
ABOUT THE EDITOR
Carlton Mellick III is one of the leading authors in the new Bizarro genre uprising. Since 2001, his surreal counterculture novels have drawn an international cult following despite the fact that they have been shunned by most libraries and corporate bookstores. He lives in Portland, OR, the bizarro fiction mecca.
Visit him online at www.carltonmellick.com
Table of Contents
EDITOR’S NOTE
SANTA CLAUS & THE ELVES OF FUCK
FROSTY & THE FULL MONTY
UNWANTED GIFTS
TWO-WAY SANTA
THE CHRISTMAS TURN-ON
THE ELF-SLUT SISTERS
CHRISTMAS CRABS
Christmas on Crack Page 12