The Night Before Christmas
Lady Shade
Episode 12: He Came Upon a Midnight Clear
December 24, 1943
It was cold…
The weather had definitely taken a turn for the worse over the last week. A snow storm had blown down out of Canada and swept across the Great Lakes gathering steam and collecting moisture as it made its way East. A blizzard had blanketed the entire Atlantic seaboard from Virginia to Maine and all across Illinois and Iowa and all points to New York and Jersey. Traffic had come to a standstill; the trains grinding to a halt, automobiles buried in deep snowdrifts. Even the people knew to come in out of the cold and let Mother Nature take her course, only the bravest and finest daring to venture out on the streets in the rage of Winter.
And then there was me.
Hardly the bravest or finest, I was out in the aftermath of the storm, a victim of my own stubborn determination. The snow had finally stopped, but behind the storm and clouds came a cold front that had blanketed the region with sub-freezing temperatures and a wicked wind that made the already cold air all the worse. It had been twenty-two degrees when I had first braved the elements a few hours ago, but something told me that the temperature had dropped remarkably since then, and the wind chill had lowered that to well below zero. In a nutshell, I was freezing…
So what was I doing sitting in the snowdrifts atop my apartment building, shivering my ample butt cheeks off in the cold? I kept asking myself that, over and over as I watched the stars drift past in the crystal clear black velvet stretched wide overhead. The storm clouds were long since gone, and the normally smoky haze that clung to the city seemed rather crisp and vivid. I could see well into Brooklyn, with the winking lights of the Williamsburg Bank Tower towering over all like a beacon. To the north I could just make out the Bronx sparkling like an oasis in the desert. The great smoke stacks in Queens puffed and exhaled thick plumes that swirled in the wind, spiraling away into the darkness. Despite the cold- or maybe because of it- it was a beautiful night.
A beautiful Christmas Eve…
Any normal girl would be snuggled up in her apartment, sitting with family gathered about the stove and drinking hot toddies waiting for Christmas to come. Despite the war that was still sweeping across Europe and the Pacific, despite the horrors and atrocities that were taking place around the world there was still some joy in this most special of nights. I knew that downstairs there was a tree decorated with colorful ribbons and garland and sparkling ornaments. There were presents with my name on them under the small tree; modest gifts from family and friends, what we could afford to buy or make. There would be music on the radio and Victrola, and food in the icebox, my Christmas feast. There were stockings hung on the wall near the stove as always, for Mama and Doris, mine and Grandpa Jake’s, and one for Papa wherever he was.
We hung a stocking for Papa every year since Pearl Harbor. It gave us a sense that he was with us, even though he had been called back to duty after the Japs had attacked Hawaii and America had entered the war. World War Two was raging, and Papa was a Colonel somewhere in the ETO, driving towards Berlin and Hitler ultimately. It had been several weeks since we had received a letter from him, and every day seemed a little darker than the last. Still, we never gave up hope. No news is good news they say, and if anything had actually happened to my father- if worst had come to worst and he was- well… We knew that the War Department would inform us if my father had been killed in action. They were good like that. More reliable than the Post Office.
So, for the third Christmas since the war had started for America we hung a stocking on the wall with care in hopes that Papa would be home soon. It was symbolic of course, and I knew that there would be no candy canes or even coal in any of our stockings this year. I had the inside scoop on the St. Nick scam you see. I knew what Christmas was really all about-
***
It had been a year, almost to the minute actually. I had been out working- on Christmas Eve mind- Lisa Lord, mild mannered and photogenic newsreel and radio on scene reporter for the World News. I had been covering a ritzy party at the Waldorf earlier in the evening with my camera operator and radio technician, Stewart ‘Stubby’ Stubbins. All of the important people had been there; the rich and famous, the super stars of stage and screen, even the mayor. Stubby and I were there because for the most part we- neither one of us- had lives to speak of. Stubby was an orphan- albeit a wealthy one- but he was a far cry from Mister Popularity. To my surprise he knew a lot of famous people and apparently hob-knobbed with the best of them, despite his rather farm boyish and naive exterior. He had no family, and I was one of the few folk that he really considered a friend. Sometimes maybe more than a friend.
Myself, I had family. That year, last year like this, they had all gone to Hoboken across the Hudson to spend the holiday with my aunt and uncle. Mama, my younger sister Doris and Grandpa Jake had taken the ferry earlier in the day to spend Christmas Eve with my Uncle- also Jake- and Aunt Lucy, leaving me to fend for myself. Last year of course I had the gala to attend, and it had been a bash to remember, at least for the ritzy crowd. I had been bored as hell after the novelty had worn thin. I had left after an hour or two, after my job was done and I was feeling the blues for being more or less alone on Christmas. Nobody to blame but myself of course. I had accepted the job, thinking that was what I had wanted at the time.
I had said my good-bye’s to Stubby that night- feigning sickness I think- and came back home feeling sorry for myself when I walked in on a robbery. It had been a man that the papers had dubbed ‘the Santa Bandit’; a guy dressed in a hand-me-down Kris Kringle suit who was going about robbing folk of their Christmas cheer. As luck would have it- or maybe fate- that year, last year he chose my building to burgle.
I had just settled in with some eggnog, ready for bed soon in my nightie when he had appeared. He was a bit thin for St. Nick, but he was dressed in the red suit and had the beard and bag, which he was proceeding to stuff with what little we had to offer; Mama’s meager silver, a few knick-knacks and gifts from under the tree. I tried to stop him of course- I am the scourge of the Underworld and Bund after all; the Lady Shade!
Usually I’m out and about in my long, gray trenchcoat and wide-brimmed hat, my thick muffler wrapped about my face as a disguise. I’ve had a few run-ins with the surly lot; gangsters and saboteurs, thugs and scum, most of the cowardly crew that you read about in the papers. I even have an arch-nemesis, a Ratzi villainous that operates with the Bund stateside, a big, burley dame called the Valkyrie. She’s a nasty bitch- pardon my French- and just keeps popping up when I least expect her. She was nowhere to be seen that night, however-
I tangled with the Santa Bandit that last Christmas Eve, and I’m not too proud to say he got the better of me for awhile. He cold-cocked me and bound me hand and foot while he made his way about the apartment gathering what little we had worth stealing. It wasn’t much- time’s were hard since Papa went to war, and with the rationing and all- but apparently it was enough for him. He tied me up good and tight and went about his foul duty while I struggled to get free.
Oddly, it was a situation I had been in before. More often than not in my cases as the Lady Shade I end up getting tied up. I don’t know why really, bad luck I presume, but I’ve been bound and gagged more often than I care to admit. As such, I’ve become more than a little adept at escaping from bondage. One learns the ins and outs of ropework when it’s forced upon you by necessity. That night I got away, escaping the ropes of garland and ribbon that the Santa Bandit had used to tie me up and chased him down to get back our things. I’ll admit that I had a little help-
Yes, Virginia, there is a Santa Claus!
I had no reason to believe up until that point. I had grown up believing in Santa, the Easter Bunny and the tooth Fairy. I was an average kid I suppose, a regular Bowery Girl growing up with hopes and dreams on the East Side of Manhattan, wishing for a better life for me and mine through the Great Depression and into WWII. As reality hit harder with every year I outgrew my daydreams however, shuffling the Tooth Fairy and the rest to the back of the deck. The Easter Bunny became a myth, and St. Nick just another fable- at least until last year.
I was chasing down the Santa Bandit, and though I hate to admit it, he was on the verge of making a clean getaway when fate intervened and my life- such as it is- did an about face and a 180 all in one step. The Santa Bandit got caught by the one and only; the one true Santa Claus! I was flabbergasted to say the least. He was a jolly old elf, just like the stories said, complete with sleigh and eight tiny reindeer, red suit and fluffy white beard, stomach that shook like a bowl full of jelly, the works. Little did I know that he was a thieving rat bastard in his own right, and a surly, dirty old man to boot!
Sure he took out the Santa Bandit, but after that he took the burglar’s ill-gotten gain, everything that the crumb had stolen from my building. He was as big a crook as the Bandit- more so as he was the real thing, having pulled the wool over humanity’s eyes for centuries apparently. I tried to stop him of course- I was the Lady Shade after all! I got beaned with a lump of coal for my efforts and left to freeze in the cold and snow while he drove out of sight.
Needless to say, I was peeved…
***
So here I sit, cold and alone on the rooftop of my apartment building, shivering in the sub-freezing temperatures and hip-deep in the crest of new fallen snow. The Moon is out and full, looming large and shining its glow, lightening the streets of Manhattan on a crystal clear night where the stars are flickering and the blackout curfew has been lifted- at least for awhile. The streets are clogged, thick with snow. It’s quiet, as most sane folk are indoors and enjoying the holiday, spending time with those they love. Most sane folk…
I sit here waiting, hidden in the shadows behind little Jimmy O’Conner’s pigeon coop. The minutes tick by slowly in the freezing cold, and I find it hard to get comfortable. I had bundled up in my Lady Shade outfit; coat, hat and muffler above a woolen dress and thick, warm under garments. I had my boots on, and leggings that were hardly becoming but saved my legs from the frost. I had brought Irish Coffee in a thermos bottle, but that was long since gone. I was getting sleepy, kicking myself for my stupidity and trying not to fall asleep in the freezing weather. I was half-dozing, nodding in and out. My teeth were chattering and I was cold, wet and miserable. I was waiting for midnight, determined that if he had not showed by then, that he would not show at all and I would head back downstairs to the warmth and comfort of my home.
Perhaps I really had imagined it all. Maybe, I thought, it had all been a dream. Then I felt the lump of coal that I had saved, heavy in the pocket of my coat. It had been real- not a dream, but a nightmare…
I heard it then, the soft, melodic tinkling that broke me from my reveries. The sound of jingling bells…
I looked up, scanning the clear skies and gasped to see that sight that I had been waiting for. It was just a silhouette against the dark of night and the starry backdrop, but as I watched it crossed in front of the huge moon, arching up and about, circling round to land.
I ducked back behind the pigeon coop, sticking to the shadows and actually holding my breath as the sleigh approached. It was huge and piled high with bundles and bulging bags. It was painted a garish red and gaudy green with gold trim along the runners and looked older than time itself. It was drawn by eight ‘reindeer’, just like the stories said, but they were hardly tiny. They looked more like elk or moose as they touched down on the rooftop, scrabbling for traction as the drug the massive sleigh behind. They were huge, each and every one, the lead creature being the largest of all. They had enormous racks of antlers, sharp and pointed and cloven hooves that seemed to rip into the tarpaper of the roof. Steam rose from their bodies, wafting from their flared nostrils and gaping mouths as they whickered and snapped at their bits, gasping for breath
Awesome as they were however my attention quickly turned to the squat, fat man that had been driving the team so hard. He was cursing at the beasts, spitting and cracking a whip in one hand, snapping the reins in the other. He was dressed all in red, a filthy suit covered in soot and grease, trimmed in white fur that seemed to sag from moisture. His beard was long and ragged, mostly white and speckled with crumbs and bits of food. His speech was slurred as he yelled at his team, surly and vulgar and I could tell that he was drunk. He was just as I remembered him from the year before…
I bit my lip to keep from screaming, pressing back against the wall of the coop as I took deep breaths and screwed up my courage. I had been waiting for this night for a year now, and I would be damned if I was going to chicken out without confronting the fat bastard and at least trying to get my mother’s silver back.
I had come prepared. The pockets of my Lady Shade trenchcoat were bulging with all of my gear; the things that Grandpa Jake had invented or created while tinkering. Things that I thought I could use in my war on crime and saboteurs. I had my grapple line and my Shade Grenades that whipped up a cloud of thick smoke when thrown. My gyro-pistol rested heavy in my right pocket and a regular .38 in my left- though I hoped that I would not have to use it. The gyro was set with a bolo-bullet, and I was hoping that the tiny missile would be enough to wrap up the ‘jolly old elf’ with little fuss. I carried a small sack of marbles to throw on the ground, and a big packet of black pepper to toss in the man’s eyes if need be. I had everything that I thought I might need against Saint Nicholas, but I hoped that I would not have to use any of it.
My heart was hammering in my chest as I peered around the corner of the empty coop. Nick was digging through the bundled bags in the rear of the sleigh, ignoring the gnashing and thrashing of the creatures tethered in the fore. He was saying something, but the animals were making such a clatter that I couldn’t make out just what. He hefted one heavy looking bag over his shoulder, staggering at its weight, and I noticed as he started to walk away that he had several empty ones in his other hand. I wondered if perhaps he was actually some type of queer Robin Hood, stealing his booty from one family only to give it to another. It made an odd kind of sense-
No matter! Santa was heading towards the chimney, despite the billowing column of smoke that it was spewing into the frigid air. I had no idea haw he expected to get his fat butt down that skinny pipe, but that was all part of the myth apparently. In seconds though, he’d be in the building. I had to make my move. I stepped from behind the safety of the coop-
And felt something press into my back!
Without a thought to my own safety I dipped my hand into my jacket pocket for a weapon. I quickly spun about; my right hand balled into a fist about the heavy weight of my Swiss Army Knife Papa had sent me from Europe my last birthday. I swept my arm in an arch to hit whoever had the gun barrel in my back square in the jaw. I stumbled forward when I hit nothing, letting out a surprised yelp as I tried to regain my balance on the slick rooftop. I heard a deep-throated chuckle, glancing down I’m sure with a stupid look on my face-
“Hiya, toots!”
I blinked. It was an elf. An elf with a gun!
He was the size of a little kid, but he didn’t look like a dwarf. His legs were spindly and thin, and seemed barely able to hold up his torso and the ‘beer belly’ he was sporting. His arms were thin too, but his hands seemed over-sized, like a full-grown man’s. His head was too, like a balloon blown up too big, almost ready to pop. He had straggly brown hair; barely held in check by the bright red stocking cap he wore. His suit was a dull and dirty green; velveteen jacket and tights. His shoes were long with curling toes and there were little bells jingling at the tips as well as at the drooping point of his cap. He was grinning as he looked me up and down, his raggedy yellow teeth barely visible in his filthy beard and mustache. He chuckled again, a foul sound that made my skin crawl as he waved his big-barreled gun at me-
“You must be da dame what gave da boss so much trouble last year.” He smirked, his dark brown eyes raking over me lustfully. “You don’t look so tough ta’ me.”
I closed my mouth and blinked again. He had a Brooklyn accent. What was this all about?
“I-“
I saw his finger tense and squeeze the trigger on the gun. Aside from the huge barrel, it looked like a simple .38, but I still squealed and tried to duck when I realized- too late- that he was firing.
There was a burst of smoke from the barrel and a shower of sparkling confetti spewed into the air. I staggered back as long streamers of ribbon came shooting out of the gun, red and green and golden tipped with little silver bells. My eyes grew wide as the streamers seemed to expand like a web, tendrils of a spider that started to wrap about me. They were weighted, tightening as they spun about my body, starting to wrap me in an instant from head to toe. I felt my legs press together as the ribbons looped about my legs. My arms quickly pinned to my sides and still the streamers wrapped round and round. They pressed into my hips and thighs, tightening above and below my breasts, encircling my shoulders. The ribbons wrapped about my throat and I was suddenly gasping for breath and still they climbed my body. The thin ribbon bit into my face, first tightening about my cheeks, prying my lips apart and pressing down my tongue, then continuing, the last bits going on to seal my mouth totally shut.
I saw the trailing ends of the ribbons spit from the gun, little bells weighing them down. I watched, eyes wide as the final bits wrapped tightly about my face, the heavy little bells whipping about and knotting right under my nose. I swayed on my feet, trying not to fall as I struggled in my bonds. I was suddenly, in the space of a heartbeat, wrapped from head to toe in the strong, colorful ribbons and streamers, almost mummified! It was a tight bondage, pressing into my skin even through my thick coat and slicing through my muffler that was no protection at all. It was like being bound by my own ‘Bolo Bullet’ but a hundred times worse. I moaned, trying to stay on my feet as I struggled to get free. I heard the elf chuckling-
“A pretty package!” he scoffed. I screamed into my gag as he slipped his gun behind his back and stepped up to me. He had to crane his neck to look into my eyes, but I could see the wide lecherous grin on his face and knew that he didn’t care, relishing my predicament. He reached up, almost to arm’s length and squeezed my breasts, an evil gleam in his dark eyes. I screamed a muffled scream, fearing the worst-
“Relax, sister. I ain’t gonna hurt’cha.”
He shoved me then, and try as I might to stay on my feet it was hopeless. I toppled over, slamming hard on my buttocks and rolling onto my back. I stared up at the little man, tears in my eyes as he pulled a small device from his back and held it to his face. I heard a staticky sound like a radio as he spoke-
“I got her boss. Just like you figgered…”
I heard a squawk and whine and the elf winced as the sound blared right in his ear. It sounded like someone was speaking-
“Got’cha!” he said, putting the little box away again. He looked down at me and shrugged, grinning.
“Boss wants you ta’ sit tight, toots. You be a good girl, an’ I won’t get nasty.” He smirked, then walked away, ignoring my plaintive moans.
I squirmed around, trying to see what he was up to, but after a quick stop at the sleigh he moved out of my line of sight, heading for the chimney. I stared after him, still in disbelief. I was totally bound and gagged and left on the snowy rooftop to fend for myself. I was cold and wet. I was scared-
I heard a grinding sound, a scraping and tried to focus on the noise. I saw the creatures; the huge reindeer turning my direction, grunting as they scrabbled to drag the heavy sleigh across the snowy rooftop.
They were coming my way, and they looked hungry…
I could smell them, and it was all that I could do to keep my dinner down in my stomach. The over-sized reindeer were nothing like I’d ever thought, the cute little things I’d heard about in stories and song growing up. They were ugly, vile monsters with matted down shaggy pelts and huge racks of antlers coming to dozens of razor sharp points. Their jagged cloven hooves scratched at the rooftop as they drew closer, their stench of offal and urine almost overwhelming me with each step. I wanted to retch...
But I didn’t have the time. I started squirming again, pushing and pulling at my bonds. The pretty ribbons encircling me from head to toe were tight, but not as constricting as they had been. As I moved they seemed to move with me, snagging on my clothes; the buttons on my jacket, the tops of my boots. Little by little, bit by bit I was gaining my freedom as the streamers bunched up in thick strands. It was slow going though, and as I heard a snarling grunt I turned to see the slavering jaws of the lead reindeer just a few yards away. He was drooling saliva as he snorted great gouts of steam through his nostrils. There was a fire in his eyes, and as he clawed at the snow-slicked rooftop for traction I saw huge chunks of tar and wood fly in his wake. I envisioned those hooves slamming into me, and the name Dasher suddenly took on a whole new meaning.
I pulled all the harder, but suddenly with purpose. Straining hard I screamed into my gag as I inched my arm into what slack I had. I felt the streamers bunching up on the buttons of my jacket sleeve, some scratching the skin of my arm as I pulled, trying to twist my wrist in ways that it wasn’t meant to turn. I groaned as the strands caught on the cuff of my leather glove, but I was so close I tugged all the harder. The skin on my arm was frigid, the biting winter wind and cold freezing my perspiration- Making my arm slick! With a final desperate grunt my hand suddenly popped free and I sagged in relief. I was still a long way from freedom though.
I heard the animals snarling and scrabbling closer. My eyes went wide to see their fury and I wondered where the little man had gone and why he wasn’t calling them back. Their snapping jaws and jagged teeth were aiming for me, long tongues lolling and licking at their snotty snouts. Their eyes were crackling red, and they looked more and more like demons from Hell than eight tiny reindeer.
I whimpered, terrified but resolved. I wasn’t about to become the next dinner for some damned mutant reindeer. It was just too ridiculous! I squirmed about and dug my heels into the rooftop, pushing away from the herd as quickly as I could. I slid slowly across the roof, the piled snow bunching up behind me as I went, but I was gaining ground, and more importantly time. All the while I was working my hand as well. My right hand, which still held the Swiss Army Knife; my cold fingers straining to pick at one of the many blades contained within. Papa had sent both me and my sister Doris one of the knives in ’42 after he had been called up to service. He had been stationed in Europe, and actually on Germany’s border for a time and he thought that the official knives would make a swell gift and keepsake. At the time Doris, and months later myself were crushed. He was in Europe, so why not French perfume or real Swiss chocolate? Now however, as a long silver blade popped free of its housing I was happy as a clam with his quaint little gift. Thanks, Dad!
The long, sharp blade sparkled in the moonlight and I had visions of dropping it of course as I swiveled the handle in my grip. If I was the damsel in distress in some dime store pulp novel I’d drop the knife and see it go tumbling through a well-placed hole in the roof or down the drainpipe. The hero of course would hear my screams and rescue me at the last minute, beating the crap out of the reindeer and elf and probably even Santa himself. There was no hero in my story though. No tall, masked man with bulging biceps and a lantern jawed cleft chin to come swinging to this damsel’s rescue. There was just me- Me and my little knife! I whipped the blade about, trying to ignore the growls of the creatures as I started sawing at the ribbons that bound me tight!
I half expected the strands of ribbon to be tough as iron but to my wondering eyes the barest touch of my blade slit right through them. I watched with renewed hope as they popped one by one with every slice of the sharp knife as I twisted my wrist about to get at the streamers. There were just so damned many of them- Too many maybe as I heard the creatures bellow with rage, realizing that I was soon to be free. But would I be in time? It was a race now as I heard the herd scrambling all the harder to reach me, their chosen Christmas feast.
I sawed at the ribbons frantically, my heart racing and pounding in my ears. I was sweating bullets in my panic and shivering in fear and anticipation. Within moments I had freed my arm and started pulling with all my might at the bonds now loosely wrapping my torso. The streamers drooped over my shoulders as I sat up, attacking the bonds about my legs, cutting swiftly with my little pocketknife. I chanced a glance at approaching doom and saw the snarling beasts were almost upon me; a few more feet to go. I could smell their fetid breath, clouds of steam washing over me and making my stomach roil. I held my own breath, gritting my teeth as I tried to focus on my task.
With a final slash the binding streamers around my legs split and fell away. I was still gagged, and ribbons still loosely draped my body here and there, but I could move again. I scrambled to my feet, almost slipping on the slick snow and ice, but I made it even as the lead monster reared and slammed his hooves into the roof where I had been just a heartbeat before. I ran, trying to put some distance between me and the herd and easily outdistanced them as they had to keep dragging the heavy sleigh around behind them. I ran around behind the empty pigeon coop and came out at the rear of the sleigh as it started to grind away following the beasts and my trail. As I had hoped, the creatures started to bunch up in the close confines of the turn about the coop, the sleigh slowing them down and clogging them between the roof’s low wall and the empty shack. It would not stop them I figured, but it slowed them to a crawl. Laughing at my own good luck and ingenuity I charged forward towards the chimney, hot on Santa’s trail once again-
And tripped over that damned elf!
I hit the snowy rooftop hard, skidding and tumbling over the ice and slush churned up by the reindeer. I sprawled and gasped as my knife flew from my hand, watching in dismay as it bounced twice before disappearing into a snow bank at roof’s edge. I cursed, a ragged string of unladylike words that’d make a sailor blush, and turned on the little man.
He was on the ground too, struggling to hands and knees in the deep snow. The long tail of his jingle bell stocking cap was drooped across his face and covering his eyes. He was cursing too as he patted down the snow searching for something. He had dropped his gun!
I scrambled forward on hands and knees, forgetting my knife as I charged at the elf. He must have heard me crunching across the snow because he stopped feeling around for his gun and looked up, adjusting his cap so that he could see. He had a dumbfounded look on his face as I reared up on my knees in front of him. His mouth went slack and his eyes grew wide as he saw me winding up my best Sunday punch. I lunged forward with all of my weight behind the blow-
I heard the satisfying crunch of bone as I slammed my leather-gloved fist into his big, bulbous nose. My momentum carried me forward into the snow, and the force of my blow sent the little man reeling backwards. He didn’t weigh much apparently as he lifted right up off of his knees and tumbled a full summersault only to land in a heap in the snow again a few feet away.
He was still conscious, but dazed I could tell as he moaned and struggled to move. I forced myself up again, scrambling to hands and knees then staggering forward on my shaky legs. I ran unbalanced, tumbling over farther with every step, struggling to reach my goal. I yelped, feeling my legs going out from under me and saw the elf look up. Blood was spewing from his nose now comically crooked on his shaggy face. His expression fell as he sagged with defeat, his bleary eyes seeing what was coming-
“Oh no…”
Gravity took hold finally and my feet slipped out from under me as I went sailing through the air. I landed hard, feeling the air whoosh out of my lungs. I saw visions of little gray spots dancing in my head and strained for breath, trying to stay conscious. I had landed hard, true, but something soft had cushioned my fall. I felt the little elf’s body splayed beneath me, pressed flat by my weight. He wasn’t moving, and with my knee in the back of his neck I figured he wouldn’t be for some time. I lay there a moment then, trying to regain my breath and senses, the enraged sounds of reindeer echoing in the distance of the otherwise silent night…
I stood, ignoring the muffled moans of the elf as I dug my knee into his back. I glanced at the sounds of the reindeer bellowing and gnashing at the ground and saw Dasher and Dancer straining at their tethers, still trying to drag the sleigh around the coop. I was still safe from them, at least for the moment, so I took the time to slide the toe of my boot under the unconscious elf and flip him onto his back. I didn’t want the little creep dead after all, and I wouldn’t risk him suffocating face down in the deep snow or choking on his own blood-
Something slammed into my back and sent me sprawling. I saw stars as I landed, skidding across the rooftop again. I rolled with the impact however, tumbling and twisting as best as I could to face my attacker when I finally came to a stop a few feet away. I looked up, shaking my head, feeling the chill air on my cheeks as both the gag of ribbons and my thick, warm muffler had fallen away from my face in my struggles with the elf. I should have known and frowned when I saw who it was, but I had grown cocky.
It was Santa!
He was laughing at me, chuckling, his fat belly jiggling with his humor. His red suit was covered in soot and there was a smear of jelly about his lips and dripping through his scraggly beard. He held a full sack of ill-gotten gain over his shoulder as he looked down on me, giving me a lecherous smirk. He was staring at my gams, my skirt and coat having ridden up my legs in my fall. Self-consciously I tugged at the tails of my trenchcoat as I glanced up at him, anger boiling my blood. He laughed that trademarked laugh of his-
“Who’s the naughty girl then?” he chuckled, giving me a wink.
“I’ll show you naughty, you fat bastard!” I shrieked as I ripped my wide-brimmed hat from my head and whipped it at him like a pie plate. I felt bits of my hair tear out as I had pulled the bobby pins free without thought or care. I ignored the pain and scrambled to get to my feet as the hat sailed at St. Nick. He simply leaned away as the hat whizzed past him, but I hadn’t thrown the thing to hurt him, or even hit him really. It was a distraction, and it had worked. He blinked in surprise as I charged forward-
Then with a wide smile he placed a finger alongside his nose. There was a sparkle of light as stars twinkling about us and it suddenly seemed as though I was running through molasses. Every movement was an effort, and I was breathing hard against the strain, gritting my teeth as I forced my legs and arms to move. He was laughing at me, mocking me as I struggled, wondering what had happened. Then it hit me!
I saw my hat near the edge of the roof, suspended in mid air. There was still a chilly wind whipping past, but I could see that the few clouds high in the sky seemed to be frozen in place, the smoke from chimneys locked in mid-roil. Santa had somehow actually stopped time, or at least slowed it for me. I was running in slow motion, and for all intents and purposes the rest of the world had come to a halt. It was the only answer, and it had to be. How else could the dirty old elf manage to rob the world in the space of a single night? I fumed and seethed, redoubling my efforts. I don’t care if he was Houdini himself- he was going down!
I was almost on him, and had I been able to I would have been able to grab him but my arms just would not work in his magical bubble of time. He put his finger aside his nose again and just as my fingertips brushed the dirty fur of his collar he floated up and away and out of my grasp-
“Ho- Ho- Ho!” he laughed and I heard his fingers snap!
I suddenly flew forward as time exploded around me, catching up. I sprawled face first into the snow again, cursing all the while I slid over the roof. I heard the snarling screams of the creatures as I tumbled to a stop and screamed myself to see Dasher rearing above me, his cloven hooves clawing at the crisp air. I rolled to the side as his hooves came crashing down and yelped in pain as his sharp antlers raked across my back, tearing through my coat and skin at once. Pain burned through my backside as I crawled away with all the speed I could muster. I was gasping for breath, trying to hold back my sobs and scramble to my feet all at once when I saw something out of the corner of my eye-
Santa’s bag came swooping out of nowhere, slamming into me from the side and sending me sprawling again. It hurt, but it was softer, lighter than I would have expected. More Santa magic I assumed as I bounced across the rooftop, thankfully away from the ravenous reindeer. I was getting tired of this sh-
“Ho- Ho- Ho!” I heard him laugh again. He was enjoying this, I could tell. I struggled to my feet again even as he floated back down to the snowy rooftop.
“Give it up, little girl,” he said with a smirk, strolling forward casually, the big fat jerk, “you haven’t a chance. Better than you have tried and failed and on their graves I did dance! Come with me north, to the castle I’ve made. Missus Claus always wanted a maid!”
I dipped my hand into my pocket, wincing at the pain in my back as I did. My vision swirled, and I clenched my body, trying not to succumb. I hoped I was not bleeding to death, and if I survived I was going to be hurting for a long, long time. If I won though, it would all be worth it. I curled my fingers around last year’s gift from Santa. I had kept it all year, wrapped in tissue and hidden at the back of my unmentionable’s drawer in the dresser that I shared with Doris. It was heavy, and about the size of a baseball, black and solid; a lump of coal! I charged forward-
He raised his finger to his nose again, but I had expected as much and started screaming and waving my arms wildly. He blinked, staggering back at my crazy antics in surprise and I lunged forward in that moment of distraction. I slammed hard into the fat man and already off balance he tumbled backwards. He hit the roof with a solid thud with me straddling his big belly, sitting on top of him. I was shaking with the rush as I drove my fist into his soft stomach, the lump of coal adding weight to my blow. I smelled liquor as his breath came whooshing out at me and I gagged. I slammed my other fist into his face, but he was turning away, trying to free himself and my blow glanced off scratching across his rosy, sooty cheek. My eyes grew wide as I stared at the wound I had made-
“What the- “
His skin had ripped away at the force of my blow, a big gash suddenly there on his face. I realized then and there that he was wearing a rubber mask of some sort. That fact was not what had brought me up short, however. Poking through the tear in his skin I saw what looked to be a big swath of fuzzy green fur-
“Off me, bitch!” I heard him exclaim as his fist slammed into my jaw. I reeled back, but the weak blow had brought me out of my stupor and I quickly regained my senses. He had knocked me off of him though, and he was scrambling to get away now, crawling across the snowy rooftop towards the sleigh with me hot on his heels. He was spry for a fat man.
“On Dasher! On Dancer! On Prancer and Vixen!” he shouted, scrabbling to his feet and running for the sleigh. “On Comet! On Cupid! On Donner and Blitzen!” He leapt as the creatures reared and charged forward. The fury of their drive smashed poor Billy’s pigeon coop to smithereens as they surged, Dasher and Dancer actually rising into the air. I saw Santa leap, grabbing the railing alongside the sleigh and swinging up into the seat. I rushed forward-
“Now dash away, dammit! Dash away all!”
The reindeer were galloping up into the sky, the heavy sleigh rocking and lurching in their wake as they increased speed. I was tired and sore, but I was not going to let the fat man get away again. I had waited all year for this, and I was going to get my revenge. I leapt even as the sleigh started to rise.
I grabbed hold, my left hand snagging in the fat man’s straggly beard as I clutched the lump of coal in my right. He screamed in pain as my weight pulled on his face and I knew that despite the mask, the beard was at least partially real and laced into his fur. I wedged my foot on the running board and hefted myself up as Santa screamed in agony, twisting my fist in his beard to pull myself closer-
“Eat this, you fat son of a bitch!”
I slammed the lump of coal into his gaping mouth with all of the might that I could muster. I heard his teeth shatter. I heard his exclamation choke off as he gagged, gasping for breath. His eyes grew wide as he clutched at his mouth with one hand, the other wrapped in the reins. He was flailing wildly as the sleigh lurched, the reindeer climbing higher and higher but uncertain as to their course. The sleigh rocked as Santa flicked the reins and I barely held on, grasping the rails with my free right hand. I saw tears in Santa’s eyes as he clawed at the lump of coal wedged in his mouth, but then the sleigh lurched forward.
I dropped away at the sudden speed, screaming as I fell but still watching the receding sleigh. It seemed to stretch away, the very air swirling and twisting about it, like it was achieving speeds that I couldn’t even guess at. There was a flash of light, and suddenly it was gone. The last thing that I saw was the little elf hanging onto the runners for dear life, his body stretching out like a long string as the sleigh vanished, an explosion of starlight left in its wake, winking brightly before vanishing altogether.
I clawed at the air, the reality that I was falling to my death suddenly slapping me in the face. My fingers dug into the edge of the short wall that surrounded the rooftop and I felt my shoulder pop at the sudden stop and weight. I slammed into the cold brick of the building and saw more stars as I struggled to stay conscious. I knew that if I blacked out I was done, so I hung there, crying in agony as I strained to regain enough sense to save myself. The only thing that kept me going in the cold was the fact that I had won. I had gotten my revenge.
I had beaten Santa…
I woke to the sound of a key turning in the lock. I groaned, the previous eve’s activities having taken a toll on my body. I ached in every joint and muscle. My back burned, but I was lucky in that my Lady Shade coat had absorbed the brunt of Dasher’s antlers and I came away with welts rather than actual gashes in my skin.
I had somehow managed to pull myself back up onto the roof and made my way back down to the apartment. Once home I had had a stiff drink and taken a long, hot bath to ease my pains and clean up a bit. I had heated up some eggnog then and mixed myself a hot toddy as I relaxed on the sofa in my housecoat and slippers, listening to the Christmas songs playing on the radio. Apparently I had drifted off to sleep.
Grandpa Jake stepped through the doorway bundled up in his long woolen coat, hat and scarf. He smiled to see me, stepping aside as Doris followed him through the door. She carried a large bag and right away I smelled the welcome odors of food; cooked turkey and dressing and other scrumptious smells. Mama was the last, carrying a bag of her own and I saw the sparkle of wrapping paper peeking out the top. She was in her Christmas coat, red and long with a sprig of holly pinned to her lapel.
“Lisa?” she asked, setting her bag beneath our small tree. She started to unbutton her coat. “Don’t tell me you slept there all night.” I nodded, stretching as they all settled in, home from their short stay in New Jersey. We made small talk, gossiping as they all went about their business; Mama readying food and Doris setting out my presents from my aunt and uncle in Hoboken. Grandpa Jake hit the bourbon.
“How was your night, Lisa?” he asked with a knowing smile, handing me a drink and then lighting a cigar. I had the feeling that he knew that I had not really had to work the night before, though I could not imagine that he had a clue as to what I had actually done.
“Good, Grandpa,” I replied, sipping at my drink, returning his smile. “Better than I expected, actually.” He nodded and let the subject drop as Doris piped up from where she was kneeling under the tree-
“Where did all these presents come from?” she asked, looking to me. “You must have got some bonus from the World this year, Lisa.”
“You might say that.” I smiled. The truth of the matter was that after I had pulled myself back up onto the roof and was making my way back to the stairwell I had spied the huge bag that Santa had been batting me around with. I had looked inside and found that it was laden with presents, all wrapped and proper. He had apparently made a killing in our building, taking what he wanted from the various apartments. What he had planned to do with them I had no idea, but I had them now and knew what I had to do.
I had gone through the bag and placed all the gifts outside the doors of the names on the tags. The bag had seemed almost bottomless for a time, and there was a heap of presents outside every door in the building when I had finally gotten to the presents that had no tags. There were over three dozen unmarked, so I made a final circuit up and down the stairs, trying hard to recall who lived where and how many to leave at each apartment. It was probably wrong as I had no idea whose presents they actually were, but I figured that since he had gotten away with the building’s gifts the year before that it was only fair.
I still ended up with seven gifts unclaimed when I had finally reached my own apartment. That meant one each for my family- and what the hell, one for me. After last year, they deserved it.
We opened our presents then, enjoying a beautiful Christmas Morn. To my surprise, the gifts that I had left were perfect for my family. Grandpa Jake got a belt of fine tools for delicate work. Doris got a new dress and real, honest to gosh nylons! And Mama- Mama got a full set of real engraved silver…
I was flabbergasted to say the least.
And me? I got a spooled wire recorder, exactly what I wanted though I knew that my family couldn’t begin to afford such a thing. Where had it come from? How did Santa know, and what was he about? I was totally lost and dumbfounded…
“…and we hope that our boys will come home soon.”
I heard Diane Williams winding down, giving the last of her Christmas statement to the people within range of her voice. She was my boss, the owner of the World News- paper, radio and newsreel. We all listened, staring at the radio still playing from the night before-
“This is Diane Williams, hoping- wishing that everyone has a merry Christmas and a happy New Year.
“God bless us, every one!”
Story © Curt F 2003