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Tis The Season. . . . . To Die TTS 2022
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T’is The Season. . . . . . To Die.
It was two days before Christmas and here I was, sitting in my office matching shots of cheap bourbon with every time I’ve been shot. I wanted to stay somewhat aware so I wasn’t counting the exit wounds. Not that it mattered much.
That’s when she walked into my office. I smelled her before I saw here. Gingerbread, cinnamon and spices all wrapped up in a body with more curves than the New Jersey Turnpike. Mrs. Claus. Not the kindly old grandmother everyone thinks of. This lady put the “damn” in damned good looking.
Before I go any further, I should introduce myself. My name is Nick Steele. A private investigator up here in the North Pole. Not all elves make toys and blast sunshine out their asses with songs and glee. I handle the darker side, the underbelly of the North Pole and Santa’s Workshop.
I sat back in my busted office chair trying to stay calm as she sat in the only other chair in my office. She paused a moment, lit herself a cigarette in a simple act that would have taken most films from a PG status straight to X. I still waited for her to speak first.
Realizing that she wasn’t going to win the silent but deadly contest she spoke first. “Santa has gone missing.” She took another pull of her cigarette and I never wanted to be a Pall Mall more than I did now.
Clearing my throat, I said, “He’s gone missing before. They even made films about it, what’s new about now?”
“This time is different. He’s left no note, there was no indication of trouble, the last time I saw him he was in his office checking his list. Twice.” She put out the cigarette finally and I was grateful. I might even be able to stand up now without embarrassing myself. She pulled out a bundle of notes and tossed them on my desk. “You have two days to find him, Mr. Steele. Don’t disappoint me.” She got up from the chair and left, leaving me with the scents of a warm fire mixed with stale cigarette smoke.
I sat in my chair for a moment, finished my drink and grabbed the cash. Looks like I’ll be having a Christmas after all, I thought. I grabbed my fedora, my coat and left. I went looking for Santa.
My first stop was at Presents. A popular dive bar underneath all the glitter and glamour or the workshops above. Vinny Delmonico owned and ran the joint. He was a bitter elf that took a dark turn after people stopped buying VHS cassettes. I stepped into the bar and saw Joey, the bartender who seems to never leave. I always wondered if he even slept. I asked where Vinny was and Joey tilted his head towards the back offices. I tipped my hat and headed back.
When I walked through the door into the back storeroom I was greeted by the sight of Vinny pissing into half empty bottles of rum. I closed the door and leaned against the wall and said, “If I ever catch you doing that to your bourbon, I will shoot you.”
Without turning, Vinny said, “It’s for those pissant bastards that make accessories for man-buns. They seem to like it and so do I.” He zipped up, screwed caps onto the bottles and placed seals across the tops. “Are you here to finally pay your bar tab?”
I looked at Vinny, then at the bottles, then at Vinny again and said, “Next time, when I have a full bladder. I’m looking for the Jolly Old Elf. Seems he’s gone missing and I’ve been hired to find him.”
Vinny scratched himself, “I haven’t heard a peep Nick. No rumors, no gossip. Ever since Marketing opened up the topside with B&B’s and even inviting tourists, I haven’t heard a word. Business has actually been booming.” I turned to leave and he added, “You might want to talk to Rosy at Sugar Plums. She’s been seeing a lot of traffic.”
I nodded in thanks, swearing off rum for the rest of my life and headed towards Sugar Plums, the hottest strip club in the North Pole.
Walking in Sugar Plums I was assailed with darkness and strobe lights and the smell of desperation and sweat. Sadly it felt like home. Rosy was sitting near the back at a table by herself watching the girls on 3 different stages. Rosy was another disgruntled Elf who made her claim to fame with the Easy Bake Ovens. Then feminism kicked in and she lost her job. I still miss her cupcakes but would never say so to her face. She might look as sweet as an innocent Elf but she was quick with a knife and her tongue was twice as sharp.
I sat across from her and nodded, she nodded back and watched the end of the floor show before she spoke. After it was over she lit a cigarette and said, “Here to pay your tab, Nick?”
I smirked and said, “That’s a more popular phrase than Merry Christmas, but here, ”I handed her a few bills, “This should keep me out of trouble for a few days. I have some questions.”
Rosy took the cash and said, “You’re looking for Him, aren’t you. Words already gone out. I haven’t heard a word otherwise and things have been pretty calm here.”
I lit a smoke, “Any new faces, new games in town?”
It was two days before Christmas and here I was, sitting in my office matching shots of cheap bourbon with every time I’ve been shot. I wanted to stay somewhat aware so I wasn’t counting the exit wounds. Not that it mattered much.
That’s when she walked into my office. I smelled her before I saw here. Gingerbread, cinnamon and spices all wrapped up in a body with more curves than the New Jersey Turnpike. Mrs. Claus. Not the kindly old grandmother everyone thinks of. This lady put the “damn” in damned good looking.
Before I go any further, I should introduce myself. My name is Nick Steele. A private investigator up here in the North Pole. Not all elves make toys and blast sunshine out their asses with songs and glee. I handle the darker side, the underbelly of the North Pole and Santa’s Workshop.
I sat back in my busted office chair trying to stay calm as she sat in the only other chair in my office. She paused a moment, lit herself a cigarette in a simple act that would have taken most films from a PG status straight to X. I still waited for her to speak first.
Realizing that she wasn’t going to win the silent but deadly contest she spoke first. “Santa has gone missing.” She took another pull of her cigarette and I never wanted to be a Pall Mall more than I did now.
Clearing my throat, I said, “He’s gone missing before. They even made films about it, what’s new about now?”
“This time is different. He’s left no note, there was no indication of trouble, the last time I saw him he was in his office checking his list. Twice.” She put out the cigarette finally and I was grateful. I might even be able to stand up now without embarrassing myself. She pulled out a bundle of notes and tossed them on my desk. “You have two days to find him, Mr. Steele. Don’t disappoint me.” She got up from the chair and left, leaving me with the scents of a warm fire mixed with stale cigarette smoke.
I sat in my chair for a moment, finished my drink and grabbed the cash. Looks like I’ll be having a Christmas after all, I thought. I grabbed my fedora, my coat and left. I went looking for Santa.
My first stop was at Presents. A popular dive bar underneath all the glitter and glamour or the workshops above. Vinny Delmonico owned and ran the joint. He was a bitter elf that took a dark turn after people stopped buying VHS cassettes. I stepped into the bar and saw Joey, the bartender who seems to never leave. I always wondered if he even slept. I asked where Vinny was and Joey tilted his head towards the back offices. I tipped my hat and headed back.
When I walked through the door into the back storeroom I was greeted by the sight of Vinny pissing into half empty bottles of rum. I closed the door and leaned against the wall and said, “If I ever catch you doing that to your bourbon, I will shoot you.”
Without turning, Vinny said, “It’s for those pissant bastards that make accessories for man-buns. They seem to like it and so do I.” He zipped up, screwed caps onto the bottles and placed seals across the tops. “Are you here to finally pay your bar tab?”
I looked at Vinny, then at the bottles, then at Vinny again and said, “Next time, when I have a full bladder. I’m looking for the Jolly Old Elf. Seems he’s gone missing and I’ve been hired to find him.”
Vinny scratched himself, “I haven’t heard a peep Nick. No rumors, no gossip. Ever since Marketing opened up the topside with B&B’s and even inviting tourists, I haven’t heard a word. Business has actually been booming.” I turned to leave and he added, “You might want to talk to Rosy at Sugar Plums. She’s been seeing a lot of traffic.”
I nodded in thanks, swearing off rum for the rest of my life and headed towards Sugar Plums, the hottest strip club in the North Pole.
Walking in Sugar Plums I was assailed with darkness and strobe lights and the smell of desperation and sweat. Sadly it felt like home. Rosy was sitting near the back at a table by herself watching the girls on 3 different stages. Rosy was another disgruntled Elf who made her claim to fame with the Easy Bake Ovens. Then feminism kicked in and she lost her job. I still miss her cupcakes but would never say so to her face. She might look as sweet as an innocent Elf but she was quick with a knife and her tongue was twice as sharp.
I sat across from her and nodded, she nodded back and watched the end of the floor show before she spoke. After it was over she lit a cigarette and said, “Here to pay your tab, Nick?”
I smirked and said, “That’s a more popular phrase than Merry Christmas, but here, ”I handed her a few bills, “This should keep me out of trouble for a few days. I have some questions.”
Rosy took the cash and said, “You’re looking for Him, aren’t you. Words already gone out. I haven’t heard a word otherwise and things have been pretty calm here.”
I lit a smoke, “Any new faces, new games in town?”
Rosy paused and actually thought about it. “There’s a new guy, works a side deal with some of my girls, doing fantasies off the clock. Nothing
too weird but with the tourists, you never know.”
That was the second time tourists have come up, and I said, “I’d like to have a talk with this new guy. He around?”
Rosy just nodded towards the bar where a scrawny little elf was nursing a watered-down scotch and rocks. I winked at her and headed towards the bar. Scrawny must have noticed me because as soon as I came close, he bolted off his chair like he sat on a pin and tried to run out the back door.
Not much for subtlety, I picked up a full bottle of beer by a nearby table at pitched it at his head. It crashed into his bean at the same time the door was open so I quickly followed through and shut out any witnesses behind me. It was quiet in the back alley and there were only the two of us. Perfect for a little chat.
“Let me introduce myself, I’m Nick St-. . . “, he interrupted, “I’ve heard of you, Shamus. What’s the deal? I was just trying to have a nice quiet drink!” He sat up and rubbed the back of his head.
“I’m looking for someone and I thought you’d like to do your part and help.” I lit a smoke and waited.
He sat back against the wall of the alley and said, “I used to be a big shot upstairs. Then I made one mistake. I made a deal with a few HMO’s and offered colonoscopies as stocking stuffers. I was drinking too much and couldn’t think straight.”
“We all make bad choices, pal. That’s life. What choices are you making now?”
“I offer fantasies to the tourists and the freaks down here. They’re mostly harmless. Mostly.” He started sobbing.
I waited through three cigarettes for his crying to end. Then his story came out. All of it. A sad German tourist named Gunther was leaving his job working for some fat bastard. He was tired of the years of abuse, neglect. He hated his old boss and had a sick fantasy of doing him in. He got carried away and accidently wandered into Santa’s Workshop.
It was a mess. The scrawny Elf, named Kevin, helped Gunther clean up the mess and dumped Santa’s body into the landfill of unwanted toys.
It was a big landfill.
After turning Kevin into the authorities, I later heard that they convinced Gunther to replace the Jolly Man in atonement. I even heard he put on weight.
Which leaves me where I started. Drinking cheap bourbon and smoking in my office. Just waiting for my next case. Merry Christmas.
The End.
That was the second time tourists have come up, and I said, “I’d like to have a talk with this new guy. He around?”
Rosy just nodded towards the bar where a scrawny little elf was nursing a watered-down scotch and rocks. I winked at her and headed towards the bar. Scrawny must have noticed me because as soon as I came close, he bolted off his chair like he sat on a pin and tried to run out the back door.
Not much for subtlety, I picked up a full bottle of beer by a nearby table at pitched it at his head. It crashed into his bean at the same time the door was open so I quickly followed through and shut out any witnesses behind me. It was quiet in the back alley and there were only the two of us. Perfect for a little chat.
“Let me introduce myself, I’m Nick St-. . . “, he interrupted, “I’ve heard of you, Shamus. What’s the deal? I was just trying to have a nice quiet drink!” He sat up and rubbed the back of his head.
“I’m looking for someone and I thought you’d like to do your part and help.” I lit a smoke and waited.
He sat back against the wall of the alley and said, “I used to be a big shot upstairs. Then I made one mistake. I made a deal with a few HMO’s and offered colonoscopies as stocking stuffers. I was drinking too much and couldn’t think straight.”
“We all make bad choices, pal. That’s life. What choices are you making now?”
“I offer fantasies to the tourists and the freaks down here. They’re mostly harmless. Mostly.” He started sobbing.
I waited through three cigarettes for his crying to end. Then his story came out. All of it. A sad German tourist named Gunther was leaving his job working for some fat bastard. He was tired of the years of abuse, neglect. He hated his old boss and had a sick fantasy of doing him in. He got carried away and accidently wandered into Santa’s Workshop.
It was a mess. The scrawny Elf, named Kevin, helped Gunther clean up the mess and dumped Santa’s body into the landfill of unwanted toys.
It was a big landfill.
After turning Kevin into the authorities, I later heard that they convinced Gunther to replace the Jolly Man in atonement. I even heard he put on weight.
Which leaves me where I started. Drinking cheap bourbon and smoking in my office. Just waiting for my next case. Merry Christmas.
The End.
a reply to: DBCowboy
I liked it brother at some point I was waiting for you to stop the story and come out of the closet but that didn’t happen. I was in suspense 😮
Ironically enough though I pulled out my mobile phone as I am right at this moment it side with my doggie by a little camp fire with a chicken on the smoker and I was drinking cheap whiskey. Like I said I whipped out the mobile and saw you posted and I started looking around my yard
I liked it brother at some point I was waiting for you to stop the story and come out of the closet but that didn’t happen. I was in suspense 😮
Ironically enough though I pulled out my mobile phone as I am right at this moment it side with my doggie by a little camp fire with a chicken on the smoker and I was drinking cheap whiskey. Like I said I whipped out the mobile and saw you posted and I started looking around my yard
Haha! That was great. I read that whole story in black and white imagination. Fab
a reply to: DBCowboy
Unfortunately I don’t have a lot of time. Todays my first day off in awhile since my wimmins got sick with thyroid cancer and been in a treatment in patient facility I’ve got nothing other then take care of our doggies and my work. I took a new shift working 12-14 hour days at the shop other wise I would write my own short story for the season. Most of my current work is all half work cause I only can do a little here and a little there and it is starting to feel more like a jig saw puzzle.
I had the thought the other morning I wanted to rip the piece I’m working on into little pieces and do them piece by piece and then tape that back together when I’m done. Then I realized I’m a sloppy asshole and little pieces can’t hold the media I am using well I’d make them soggy and over bled.
I thought about it though.
Unfortunately I don’t have a lot of time. Todays my first day off in awhile since my wimmins got sick with thyroid cancer and been in a treatment in patient facility I’ve got nothing other then take care of our doggies and my work. I took a new shift working 12-14 hour days at the shop other wise I would write my own short story for the season. Most of my current work is all half work cause I only can do a little here and a little there and it is starting to feel more like a jig saw puzzle.
I had the thought the other morning I wanted to rip the piece I’m working on into little pieces and do them piece by piece and then tape that back together when I’m done. Then I realized I’m a sloppy asshole and little pieces can’t hold the media I am using well I’d make them soggy and over bled.
I thought about it though.
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