Christmas on Crack (5 page)

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 down 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 weapon that had proved
its worth over the years: the actual sword used by Saturnalia at the
Battle
of