Christmas on Crack (15 page)

The
cleaver fell heavily, silently into her neck. But it didn’t cut the head off.
Too much bone and muscle connected her head to the rest of her body. I worked
the cleaver down a little further, then unstuck it from the gristle and tossed
it aside.

I
retraced my steps to the coat closet and snapped off a piece of the antler.
Returning to Betty, I dropped to my knees and wedged my thumbs into the severed
flesh along her neck. My hands slipped in the blood. I worked the tip of the
antler up across her chin, prying the flesh away from the muscle.

I
worked slowly, for I needed her face to be in good condition if my plan was to
work. I knew that I couldn’t fool Santa for long, but if I could convince him I
was her just long enough for him to stick his cock in me, and then, if I could
fuck as well as Betty, he’d make me his wife instead. Even if Santa ended up
killing me, I’d at least get to fuck him before I died.

I
worked Betty’s face off the layer of muscle and shimmering bone. The eyes were
the most difficult part. I punctured one of them and the fluid that came out
of it made the job even tougher.

Finally,
I raised her face to my face, and I put it on.

I
felt the eyeholes and Betty’s soft skin on my own face. It was still slick with
Santa’s dried cum.

Then
a board creaked behind me. “Merry Christmas,” said Santa Claus, “ho ho.. .ho.”

He
was looming over me, his eyes and mouth dark, gaping holes of shadow.

“It’s
not Christmas yet,” I said.

“It’s
one past midnight,” he replied, taking one step closer, “and I heard a
clatter.”

I
opened my mouth to explain, hoping that Santa would fail to notice in the dying
firelight that the sleeping

body
beside me was faceless. But Santa Claus interrupted me.

“I
always hold off decorating the tree until Christmas day. But the problem is, I
didn’t chop down a tree this year. It’s been so cold and this storm hasn’t let
up an hour since last week. But I’ll tell you what,” he stroked his beard and
smacked his oily lips, “How would you like to help me decorate my beard?”

I
wasn’t sure whether or not he had noticed the body. But my throat was closing
up, I realized what I had done. “I’m sorry,” I whispered. “So sorry.”

“Why,
child!” Santa Claus said, stroking his beard and extending his enormous
stomach. “There’s nothing to be sorry for. One elf is the same as the next for
a Christmas dinner and you’ve saved me having to do the deed myself. Come up
from the floor now. I certainly underestimated you.” Santa reached down and
pulled me up by the elbow. Placing an enormous hand on either side of my face,
he pulled Betty’s face off of mine.

“That’s
much better now, isn’t it? How would you like to be my wife?”

I
couldn’t believe my ears. Relief flooded my body and I almost fainted. Santa’s
huge, strong hands held me on my feet. “Really? Really?” I said.

“Tell
me your name, sweet elf.”

“It’s..
.it’s Mabel.”

Santa
smiled and chuckled, “Mabel. What a lovely name. Mabel, how would you like to
hang ornaments from my beard?”

I
nodded, wiping Betty’s blood out of my eyes.

“Good
little thing, now go into the kitchen and fetch the needle nose pliers and
super glue. You’ll find them in the drawer beneath the sink. Hurry along now.”

I
ran into the kitchen, not believing my luck, a wide smile spreading on my face.
I was going to be Santa’s wife. Finally. And we would eat Betty’s miserable
body for Christmas dinner. Oh, things really had worked out.

I
rummaged for the pliers then skipped back into the sitting room and presented
the pliers to Santa Claus.

“Now,
let us think. Do you know what would make the most beautiful ornaments?”

I
shook my head.

“Teeth.”

“What?”

“Now,
kneel down, Mabel, and pull out your sister’s teeth.” Santa said calmly.

With
a little more relish than was probably appropriate, I yanked Betty’s teeth out
of her mouth, one by one. The first was hard, but after a few tries I twisted
it in just the right way and it popped out into my hand.

When
all of the teeth were lined up in a row on the rug, Santa said, “Now glue them
in.” So I glued the teeth into his beard. They did make beautiful ornaments,
glimmering orange and red in the firelight.

Santa’s
eyes and mouth were still shadowy holes in his sweaty face. He licked his lips
with a fat, purple tongue and said, “Now yours.”

My
stomach lurched.

“My
teeth?”

“Yes,
now yours,” the fat man said.

I
opened my mouth slowly and edged the pliers in. It was a small sacrifice and I
didn’t see any other choice. I pulled hard. A bolt of pain shot through my
head, blinding me for a moment. The tooth didn’t budge.

“I
can’t do it!” I cried out finally, dropping the pliers.

“Oh
Mabel,” Santa Claus moaned, “I’m disappointed. I thought you were stronger than
this.”

 
“I’m sorry.”

“Well,
perhaps you’d like me to pull them out for you?” Santa Claus said, standing up
from the couch.

I
started backing away, but tripped over Betty’s faceless, toothless body and
fell to the floor.

Santa
was pulling on the fingers of his gloves. He took one glove off and threw it to
the floor.

I
screamed. Each of Santa’s fingers was a penis, including the thumb, and each
one was gnashing three rows of razor sharp teeth in my direction. Coming
closer. Then the five penises crowded into my mouth, my lips tearing at the
corners as their tiny razor mouths chewed the gums away from my teeth.

And
I knew, in a while, my teeth would also glimmer in Santa’s beard,
indistinguishable from Betty’s.

On
Christmas Eve, Rudy dreamt that Santa was fucking his wife. Rudy watched them
from inside the fireplace. Santa and Rainey were really going at it. He wanted
to tell them to stop, but something like tweezers was pinching his tongue. It
hurt, especially when he tried to talk. Rudy and Rainey’s fifteen-year-old son
Skipp came along and tossed a burning joint into the fireplace, setting Rudy on
fire. The flames didn’t hurt, but they obscured his vision.

Skipp
and his older sister Staci danced around in a circle at the foot of the bed,
clapping their hands. Santa yelled, “Ho ho ho!” when he came. Rainey told him
that was
so
cliché,
and she
shot him with a laser beam from her fingertip, burning him to a fat crisp.

Rudy
snapped awake. It was still dark outside. Rainey snored gently beside him.
Santa was nowhere to be seen. Rudy crept downstairs, made coffee, and watched
the sun come up. He anticipated the best Christmas ever, even better than the
year before. When he plugged in the tree, it shone like the dawn outside. Piles
of presents glimmered under its impressive lights. Rudy stared at the tree,
anticipating the magical day to come.

Not
long after his third cup of coffee, the family started straggling downstairs.
More coffee was made, and Rainey handed out some pastries. It was perfect. Both
sets of grandparents, the kids.. .just like Sixteen Candles without the dude
named after a duck’s dork. The best Christmas Day ever was about to unfold. He
could barely contain his excitement. Even the fact that Staci’s friend Belinda
was coming over to be his daughter’s vegan-compatriot and join the protest
against his grand turkey and ham feast didn’t faze him. There was squash for
them. And stuffing.

While
everyone was eating their breakfast and counting up the gifts under the tree,
Rudy slipped away to the bedroom to check his bank account. His huge Christmas
bonus was supposed to have been deposited the day before, and he’d checked a
couple of times and it hadn’t registered. He wanted to be sure it was there.
It wasn’t.

Rudy
chalked it up to the holidays, and was certain it would all be settled by
Monday. And by Monday, they’d be boarding the ship.

That’s
when the whole trip had to be paid in full—half of it coming from his big
bonus. The other, non-refundable half had come from the landscaping and
swimming pool fund. But along with the bonus, Rudy was pretty much guaranteed a
promotion. He’d make up the lost yard-improvement money within six months. Just
to be sure, he emailed a quick note to his boss, Andy. Rudy didn’t really
expect a reply, but he asked if everything had gone fine with the bonus,
anyway. Then he went downstairs.

“There
you are,” said Rainey’s mother, Julette. She had a big box on her enormous lap.

“Here,
Rudy.” Rainey handed him a package about the size of a shoebox. She held one
that matched.

Everyone
had presents in their hands.

When
Rudy had his gift, everyone tore into theirs. Paper and ribbons flew. Boxes
were snapped open. It was a glorious gift frenzy, and Rudy was very glad to have
set up the camcorders on either side of the room so he didn’t have to bother
snapping shots of his frenetic family. He worked at his own gift—shredding the
paper and prying open the tough box beneath. He pulled out the heavy thing
inside and flicked off its tissue paper wrapping. He held up his present to
get a good look, just as everyone else in the room was doing with theirs.

It
was cool in his hand. Like a stone.

It
was about the size of a football.

It
was a crab.

Everyone
was holding a fat stone crab in their confused, cold hands.

“What
the hell?” asked Skipp, looking around.

“We
all got crabs!” Staci exclaimed.

“Rudy?”
asked Rainey.

Rudy
turned the crab over in his hands. He looked up at the bedheads around him
doing the same. “I didn’t do it. Who bought the crabs?”

No
one fessed up.

Rainey’s
dad, Hector, went for more coffee, hacking his way to the kitchen. He left his
crab on the couch. Rainey went and checked on the ham and turkey in the oven.

“Weird,”
said Rudy’s mom,
Lydia
.
She went for coffee