Page 38 of The Scrooge Effect

“Hey, it’s okay. I can fix it,” the dad said, but when he stood and his full height stretched a good six inches higher than me, I knew this was far from over.

“Look—”

“What the fuck is this?” he hissed. “This is what you call charity? Broken toys for kids in need?”

“Hey, I just⁠—”

He grabbed me by the Santa suit and pushed me back a step. I was trying to hold my temper, but no one pushed me around.

“Listen, man. I’m just passing out the sacks. There’s no need to get violent.”

“Violent? Do you know who I am?”

I snorted in amusement. “Nope.”

Brock stepped up behind me, whispering in my ear. “Uh…I think that’s the Terminator.”

“Who?”

“He’s a local boxing legend. They were whispering about him when he walked in.”

His little dog started jumping up my leg, scratching me with his nails as he tried to get closer. I started kicking him off my leg, which only pissed off the owner.

“Get the fuck off me!”

“Don’t kick my dog!”

“I wouldn’t if he would stop fucking jumping on me!”

“Uh, Edu? Wanna take it down a notch?” Lock chuckled.

I glared at him just as I felt something tight wrap around my legs. Looking down, the dog was running in circles around me, the strap pulling tight against my legs.

“Get the fuck⁠—”

I lost my balance and fell sideways, grasping at anything that might keep me upright, but my hands found nothing but air.

“Scottie!”

My head slammed against the pew and I crumpled to the ground, staring up at the stained glass in the cupola. Everything swirled around me at a dizzying rate until everything went black.

9

LOCK

“What the fuck happened?” I shouted, rushing over to where Edu was sprawled out on the ground. Blood dripped from the back of his head, and when I slapped his cheek, he didn’t rouse at all.

“It was that damn dog,” Scottie muttered.

“Hey, don’t blame this on my dog! That asshole gave us cheap presents!”

“He didn’t actually pick out the presents,” I snapped. “He was just handing them out.”

I focused on Edu again as the dad walked away with his kid. The crowd was dwindling as most of the people had already come through with their presents. I noted that the majority of the Santas were making their way back to the basement.

“Hey, I need the cash,” Rocket said, holding out his hand.

“He’s injured,” I bit out.