Page 29 of How My Neighbour Stole Christmas
“Really?” Storee asks. I can feel her eyes scanning me. “A Goody Two-shoes? I don’t buy it.”
“And then we come to this year’s competition,” Bob Krampus says with force in his voice, clearly annoyed with the chattering behind him. It shuts us all up as we stand in a row, directing our attention to the head of the show. “We’ll be testing these brave souls on their Christmas prowess. Can they rival the eggnog of Prancer’s Libations? Can they cut a candy cane as well as Jefferson Chadwick? Are they able to dazzle Tanya over at Warm Your Spirits with their take on fruitcake? Will they blind us with their brilliant light display, or tap right into our hearts with their rendition of a favorite Christmas song?” Bob Krampus gestures to us. “Only time will tell, but over the course of the next few weeks, leading up to Christmas Eve, these brave souls will be taking part in a series of competitions that will determine if they really have what it takes to be the Christmas Kringle.”
The crowd cheers, and I can already feel my competitive spirit kick up a notch.
Did I ever see myself being so involved in the town that I’d learn how to make fruitcake to earn points toward a Christmas competition? Never.
But now that I’m in it, I’min it. There is no pulling out.
Looking at the competition up here, I can tell that Ursula will be a challenge. Jimmy is a joke, and Dr. Pedigree will peter out toward the end like she did last year. It’s really between me, Ursula, and Storee, and I’ll be damned if I’ll seeherup here on December 25th, receiving the robe, crown, and scepter that are awarded to the Christmas Kringle.
Over my dead fucking body.
“We’ll be keeping track of their progress up on the leaderboard next to my house, and this goes further than just the competitions. It’s up to you, our friends and family, to report back to us if you can feel the Christmas spirit from our contestants. For instance, if one of the Kringle-ees is walking down the street wearing antlers and a festive sweater.” Max elbows me, and I know immediately what he’s thinking. “Or if they wish you a merry Christmas. Or if they somehow sprinkle a little bit of that holiday magic on your day.”
Christ.
This is going to be a full-time job.
“Because this honor is deep-rooted in the tradition of this town.”
Okay, Bob Krampus, bring it down a notch. There are just few out-of-towners here, so remember the audience—we all know how deep-rooted it is. Not.
“So good luck to our contestants and may the best Kringle-ee win!”
The crowd cheers again, and then Bob turns around and levels a serious look at us. “Meet me in my house to go over the rules.”
Okay.
We all head off the stage while Bob finishes up and follow Mrs. Claus, aka Sylvia Krampus, into their storybook house that’s just off to the right of the stage.
Looking like it was plucked right out ofSnow White and the Seven Dwarves, the house has a thatched roof, Bavarian-style siding, and lights sprinkled on every surface of the outside.
I’ve been in the cottage a few times to help Bob with some chores, like painting the living room and changing out the kitchen sink, so the dwelling is nothing new to me. The house is picturesque on the outside and like a holiday card come to life on the inside, with its green-and-red plaid wallpaper, red carpet, and white doilies on every surface. If anyone lives with the theme of Christmas for their entire life, it’s Bob and Sylvia Krampus.
“Right this way,” Sylvia coos. “Let me get you some hot chocolate—it was quite chilly out there.” Dressed in a red dress with a white frilly apron and bonnet, Sylvia has also committed to the part, allowing us to live in her world where Santa isn’t just magic, but real, in the flesh, with the wife to prove it.
We all file into the living room where Bob’s green recliner is angled toward the age-old TV, a wooden magazine holder next to the chair full of crossword puzzle books that seem like they’re ruffled through on the daily. A pair of spectacles rests on an end table, along with a giant remote control the size of a laptop. What are the spectacles for if the remote is big enough to require two hands?
“Wow, I’ve never been in here before,” Storee says. “It’s so…real.”
“Did you think it was like a movie set?” I ask. “Real on the outside, plywood on the inside? They actually live here.”
She gives me a death look and then says, “I meant that this is what I’d expect Santa’s house to look like.”
“That’s because heisSanta,” I whisper to her.
“You know, you were much nicer when we were younger.”
“Funny how people change,” I say, crossing my arms over my chest.
“I guess so. And here I thought we could be friendly and help each other out in this competition.”
“Ha!” I guffaw loud enough for Jimmy, Beatrice, and Ursula to glance in our direction.
Our groups have split up, so it’s the older Kringle-ees—hate that term—and the younger Kringle-ees standing in circles talking to each other.
“Help you? No chance.” I shake my head.
