Page 7 of Merry Christmas, You Filthy Animal
Chapter Two
Betty
Narrator: While Max goes to work—after putting on some clothes—there’s something else brewing around town.
Something that could definitely threaten Max this holiday season.
Remember those invaders? Well, they weren’t a figment of Max’s imagination. No, they were very real. And we’re about to find out exactly who they are.
And what they want.
“Morning.” Uncle Dwight lifts his cup of coffee in greeting as I walk into the kitchen, fully dressed for the day.
After going for a run this morning where the cold mountain air nearly froze my lungs and the ice on the sidewalks almost caused me to break a leg, I decided I might need to get a membership at the local gym. Well, if that’s what you want tocall it. It’s a room in the back of the Polar Freeze with three treadmills, one weight-lifting bench, and several dumbbells in a variety of sizes that don’t match up.
“Morning,” I say as I pull a coffee cup from the mug tree next to his coffee maker and pour myself some much-needed caffeine.
“How was your run?” Uncle Dwight is at the kitchen table with a take-out container of eggs, bacon, and toast in front of him. Apparently he takes a walk into town every morning and picks up breakfast. It’s his way of “exercising” despite it being a two-minute walk. But I can’t knock a person’s routine.
“It was good,” I say, leaning against the counter.
He’s only five years older than me. We’re a part of one of “those” families where the uncle is nearly the same age as the niece. And oddly, I grew up calling him Uncle Dwight because my family thought it was funny, and it just stuck. I’d feel weird calling him anything else at this point.
“I will say maybe not the smartest decision. Nearly died running around the corner right in front of Baubles and Wrappings. I slid across some ice and knocked over a metal statue of Santa Claus. It fell over with a clunk.”
“I know exactly what statue you’re talking about. They always have it there.”
“Why? Seems like a hazard if you ask me.”
“The Dankworths, who own Baubles and Wrappings, are fined every year for having it out on the corner because it’s been such a hazard. Bob Krampus has asked them several times to get rid of it and they won’t. So now they just get fined.”
“And Bob Krampus is . . .”
“Sometimes I forget you’re not completely familiar with the town. He’s Santa and the unofficial mayor of Kringle.”
“Right,” I say with a nod. “Still learning all this. So the Dankworths are okay with paying the fine?”
“Yup. Bob Krampus takes the money from the fine and invests in salt for the corner, which his son, Bob Krampus Junior, puts out every morning.”
“Well, he missed it this morning,” I say.
“You were out running before everything was opened.”
“True.” I think about it for a second. “But the statue was out. Do they not take it in every night? And if it’s such a hazard, why don’t people just steal it?”
“Great question. They have cameras on it at all times. No one dares to touch it. The Dankworths are one of the wealthier families in town, and you don’t want to mess with them.”
“Sounds like a realGodfathersituation.”
“You could say that.” He takes a sip of his coffee. “So what do you think about the proposal I gave you yesterday?”
I take a seat at the kitchen table and cross one leg over the other. “When you say it like that, it sounds like you’re referring to a marriage proposal.”
He rolls his eyes. “You know what I mean, Betty.”
“I know. I’m just procrastinating on answering you.”
He sets his cup of coffee down and wipes his fingers on his napkin before sitting back in his chair. “I’ll be frank with you, Betty, because it seems like no one else in your life is laying down the truth.”
