Page 25 of Merry Christmas, You Filthy Animal
I reach the Evergreen Farm arch, and I’m about to turn right, toward my property, when my arm is grabbed, and I’m pulled up against a pole.
“Help! Help!” I call out just as the man’s bandaged hand is placed over my mouth. There’s a mark on his forehead from the sharp corner of the icing tube and visible pain in his features as he breathes heavily.
“I’m not... going to... hurt you,” he says, labor in his breath. “Fuck.” He winces and leans forward, dropping his hand from my mouth and gripping his back again. “Shit, my back.”
“Let me go.”
“I’m not, ouch, fuck.” He grips his back again, arching ever so slightly.
I attempt to slide away, but he keeps his hand on my arm, pinning me in place.
“Just give me a second. I need to... oh motherfucker. It’s seizing. I’m seizing.” And then before my eyes, he falls to the ground, rolls to his back, and stares up at the sky, a husky, painful groan falling past his lips. “Get... Cole.”
“Huh?” I ask, staring down at the giant of a man. Honestly, I think his quad is the size of my head.
“Cole. I need Cole.”
“Coal?” I ask, confused. “Like coal from Santa?”
“No, Cole my best friend.” He groans and winces. “He’s in the reindeer barn. Please... get him.”
Sheesh, he really looks like he’s in pain.
Set on a mission, I’m about to head back to the farm when I pause, because if I’ve learned anything in my twenty-five years of life, it’s that I need to be aware of stranger-danger situations. And this very well might be one of them.
Because this guy who tried to pry open my window last night is telling me to go find a man named Cole in the reindeer barn? A barn...
Barns are the perfect place for corruption and murder.
Uh, not falling for that trick. It’s probably where they snatch innocent ladies like me and take them to their murderous dwelling, where they string them up and dance naked in front of them just for jollies.
Well, I will not partake.
I won’t be tricked.
So instead of helping him and going to find thiscoal, I step over his twitching body and say, “Get your own coal.”
Then I take off, head held high and safe from what I can only imagine would have been an abduction.
Nice try . . . Maxheimer—harpoon stealer.
Nice try.
Chapter Six
Betty
Narrator: He should have seen it coming, chasing after the girl he stalked last night. That was never going to end well, but if there’s one thing we know about Max at this point, it’s that he’s determined. If he feels there’s a threat to his farm, he’ll take care of it. If only his imagination wouldn’t run so wild, then maybe he wouldn’t be in such a situation.
Then again, what kind of story would this be if Max didn’t let his imagination take control of his actions? A pretty boring one if you ask me.
“You doing okay?” Uncle Dwight asks as he takes a seat next to me on the bench, handing me a cup of hot cocoa, which he retrieved from the log cabin near Santa’s house in Ornament Park.
I learned today that it’s called Ornament Park because from overhead, it looks like an ornament, with Santa’s house—a.k.a. the home of Bob Krampus—at the head. And it’s quite the festive setup, with wreaths and garland strung from every lamppost, a stage near Santa’s house, which is decked out in five-foot green and red metal presents, at least—from what I can see—five Christmas trees, and signs with arrows pointing visitors in the direction of where to find businesses and activities.
If you’re looking to get into the Christmas spirit, Kringletown is the place to be, with its Bavarian-style buildings, brightly colored garlands, and perfectly manicured evergreens. Not to mention the vendor village behind the Myrrh-cantile is like a mini–German Christmas market, just adorable.
I take a sip of my hot cocoa, loving the hint of raspberry flavoring. “Yeah, a little shook but doing okay.” I turn toward Uncle Dwight and ask, “Why didn’t you tell me that Evergreen Farm belonged to the Maxheimers?”
