Posted by AlOmega on December 12, 2006 at 20:23:15:
It was a dank, stormy night when the second girl had come out on the moonlit pavement. She was corpulent and dressed like Santa. She didn’t reek of the curvaceous figure of the other one – a figure that Venus would have envied – a tanned unblemished oval face framed with lustrous thick brown hair, deep azure-blue eyes fringed with long black lashes, perfect teeth that vied for competition and a small straight nose - not that first one who had a beauty that defied description. No, it had to be the second one.
And now the second one, dressed like Santa lay on the pavement half-naked looking like an overripe beefsteak tomato rimmed with cottage cheese, her corpulent remains lay dead on the hotel floor. He was so excited that he knew if he were ever to break wind in the sound chamber of his mind, he would never hear the end of it. He skinned the overripe beefsteak tomato so as to drape what he had garnered over his naked body. Always on the cutting edge of narcissism, that was his way of avoiding giving his body and soul to some back-alley sex-change surgeon so as to become the woman he loved.
What he didn’t know was that Mr. Vee was hard on his trail. Mike T. Vee was the kind of private eye who didn’t know the meaning of the word ‘fear’, a man who could laugh in the face of danger and spit in the eye of death – in short, a moron with suicidal tendencies. This all came because of some golden ticket from some candy man who made eye candy. And Mike knew that just beyond the Narrows, the street widened and that was where his quarry would be. He also knew that the mugger skinner was about as bright as a 5 watt light bulb that wasn’t screwed in but was an outtie. He knew the skinner pasta’s name. It was Andre. And he knew that Andre was up ahead creeping along the east wall of Berlin thinking, “Andre creep. Andre creep. Andre creep.” Which was creepy enough for any crypt creeper.
That was when they both saw the nun. She looked quite bored and somewhat detached. But then penguins often do. Her name was Sarah; and, she was with a priest called Jack.
“A penny for your thoughts”, Sarah inquired, “I’m on the edge of my seat.” She knew that she was taking a shot in the dark but even a blind pig finds an acorn sometimes. Sarah had stuck by Jack through thick and thin and even though he was a queer duck, she had high hopes that given the benefit of the doubt the truth would set Jack free. “Spill the beans,” she added, “there’s no use in sweeping it under the carpet!”
“Life is unfair”, Jack replied. “Same shitt, different day. I went to the school of hard knocks and I learned that there are lies, damned lies and statistics. I may have one foot in the grave but my stomach is tied up in knots. I lie down with dogs and wake up with fleas, licking my wounds. I used to think I had it bad because I had no shoes, then I met a man with no feet. I try to keep a stiff upper lip but I can’t get the monkey off my back. It’s a dog eat dog world and I’m only human.”
“Jeez, who peed in your cornflakes”, she asked. “Life’s not so bad, when you consider the alternative. Tomorrow is another day. You thought that if you just built a better mousetrap the world would beat a path to your door. Well, open your eyes; we’re not in Kansas anymore. It’s like my daddy used to say, it’s not whether you win or lose, its how you play the game, for God’s sake.”
“Pipe down”, he replied, “I was treated like a red-headed stepchild. Idle hands are the devil’s workshop but when push came to shove, I kept my nose to the grindstone. When God gave me lemons I made lemonade. I tried to lay it on the line with you but you’ve been cold enough to freeze the balls off a brass monkey. Maybe it’s just time to get the hell out of Dodge and get on with my life.”
“Well, spank my ass and call me Judy”, Sarah retorted. “Don’t get your knickers in a twist. To be honest with you, all work and no play makes Jack a dull boy. We all have our crosses to bear but wake up and smell the coffee. Life is what you make it but this takes the cake. Get a hold of yourself and lighten up!”
“Bite me.”
“Screw you.”
It was about that time that Sarah and Jack spotted Mike and Andre and blew them away with some of Tommy’s guns.
“Damn, you Spotted Dick,” Jack screamed with a grin.
“Gotcha, Andre the not-giant,” said Sarah with a smile.
Dropping their hot rods, they shook hands congratulating themselves on a joke well commuted.
Sarah was still a tad upset cause of the Santa killing. She enjoyed hot candle wax and games of chance and Hanukkah was her time. Now she knew her loneliness would gnaw at her like a rabid animal as she lay naked before the fireplace in hopes that Santa would tie her up, forcefully partake of her goodies, throw her in a sack, and take her to the North Pole to be used at his pleasure.
But what Sarah didn’t know was that Dasher, still a little woozy from the Christmas party, had landed in a dark alley in Amsterdam with twenty Euros and a need for a shoulder to cry on. And this was cause the same thing had happened six years ago. He was attempting to remember even then why that memory of that knight eluded him. That was until that fateful day when his past arrived at the sable door and said, “Hi, Dad. My name’s Rudolph,” and he had shot him. And that was why he vowed on that cold Christmas Day that he would do everything in his power (given the limits of his impaired depth perception) to get even with the Daisy Air Rifle Company.
And that was why on a dark winter night at the North Pole, I was after a poacher with a big-bore gun and a taste for venison. Naught or nice, it didn’t matter to me. A criminal is a criminal is a criminal, and it’s my job to bring em in. The name is Boxie. And I’m the senior elf in homicide division. And that was what had brought me to the pavement alley wherein was that dumb blonde dame Santa, Sarah Jessie Raphael who had gotten fat on cake and cookies and had blown it with some dude named Andre. Fucking creep that he was had to die.
AlOmega