managed to gasp.
“Believe it or not, Ray, I’m one of Santa’s elves,” I said. Raymond curled his lip slightly, like he could feel a wave of bravery coming, so I gave that lip a kick just so Raymond would know that I wasn’t trying to be cute. “You ready to listen?”
Raymond wasn’t, but he jerked his head yes.
“Like I was saying, kid, I’m an elf and we help Santa decide who’s naughty and who’s nice. All those lumps of coal you got over the years came from yours truly, but you never did learn, did you?” Raymond was speechless. “What did you do with the lumps of coal, Raymond?”
Raymond moved his lips to speak, but only managed a little croak, like a screen door. I had him on the ropes. For the first time in his life, he was scared.
“What did you do with the coal, Ray?”
“I don’t remember!” he said just like any other guilty kid.
I gave him a kick in the King Kong. As he curled up into a little pathetic ball, I leaned in real close and screamed into his ear. “Wrong, Raymond! You do remember. One year, you threw the coal through the neighbor’s living room window. The next year you picked off a bird’s nest full of eggs. Another year, you bounced a coal rock off a little girl’s head. She had to get stitches. Sixteen, if memory serves.”
“Please!” Raymond said. He was drowning in Guilty River.
“You never learned your lesson, Raymond!”
“I was a kid,” Raymond said. He was sobbing, the brat.
“That’s no excuse,” I said. “You’re a big cheese now, and you’re still breaking the rules, being bad. You still don’t get it.”
Scared and desperate, Raymond lost his head for a second, scrambled to his knees and took a wild swing at me. That was a mistake. I flew a telephone as solid as a bank safe right into Raymond’s nose. “It’s for you,” I said.
Raymond crumpled to the ground in a heap. He was half-naked, bloodied and bruised, shamed to the bottom of the barrel. For a split second, I thought I went too far, but reminded myself that the beaten man in front of me could be Santa if greedy kids got their way.
“Dad?” It was Little Ray. He went white when he saw his father kiss the rug again. The kid looked at me like I was the boogeyman.
Raymond Senior managed to get up and put himself between me and the boy. “Son, get out of here!” Raymond screamed. “Call the cops!”
“No, Little Ray,” I said. “I’m on my way out, but you need to hear this. Your dad’s gonna tell you how important it is for you to be a good boy. To mind your mother and your teachers and be good to your friends. He’s gonna teach you why it’s important to think of others before yourself and to have a smile for someone, even strangers. You’re gonna eat your peas and do your homework. Your dad will tell you why, right, Dad?”
“Yes, sure,” Raymond said with a split lip. “I’ll do whatever you ask, just don’t hurt my son. Please, just go.”
To make sure the lesson rang true, I cracked my knuckles and every telephone in the room, dozens of them, exploded into smithereens. When the echo of bells died away, Raymond had aged into a man, Little Ray had a chance at becoming something and I was feeling pretty full of myself. I mean, you know what they say: every time a bell rings, an angel gets his wings.
I walked to the window with a smile on my face, turned to Hall Senior and Junior and said, “Now be good for goodness’ sake.”
CHAPTER 8
Arose Such a Clatter
THE MARSHMALLOW WORLD GAZETTE
Cane Promises Elves Can Meet Toy Demand
An Exclusive Interview with Rosebud Jubilee
“It’s not only beginning to look a lot like Christmas,” one anonymous toy elf told me, “it’s beginning to look like a chain gang. Santa is working everyone, including himself, to death. It takes some of the Holly Jolly out of it, you know?” Similar grumblings have been heard the past few weeks, but recently appointed toy czar Charles “Candy” Cane says rumors of
“Believe it or not, Ray, I’m one of Santa’s elves,” I said. Raymond curled his lip slightly, like he could feel a wave of bravery coming, so I gave that lip a kick just so Raymond would know that I wasn’t trying to be cute. “You ready to listen?”
Raymond wasn’t, but he jerked his head yes.
“Like I was saying, kid, I’m an elf and we help Santa decide who’s naughty and who’s nice. All those lumps of coal you got over the years came from yours truly, but you never did learn, did you?” Raymond was speechless. “What did you do with the lumps of coal, Raymond?”
Raymond moved his lips to speak, but only managed a little croak, like a screen door. I had him on the ropes. For the first time in his life, he was scared.
“What did you do with the coal, Ray?”
“I don’t remember!” he said just like any other guilty kid.
I gave him a kick in the King Kong. As he curled up into a little pathetic ball, I leaned in real close and screamed into his ear. “Wrong, Raymond! You do remember. One year, you threw the coal through the neighbor’s living room window. The next year you picked off a bird’s nest full of eggs. Another year, you bounced a coal rock off a little girl’s head. She had to get stitches. Sixteen, if memory serves.”
“Please!” Raymond said. He was drowning in Guilty River.
“You never learned your lesson, Raymond!”
“I was a kid,” Raymond said. He was sobbing, the brat.
“That’s no excuse,” I said. “You’re a big cheese now, and you’re still breaking the rules, being bad. You still don’t get it.”
Scared and desperate, Raymond lost his head for a second, scrambled to his knees and took a wild swing at me. That was a mistake. I flew a telephone as solid as a bank safe right into Raymond’s nose. “It’s for you,” I said.
Raymond crumpled to the ground in a heap. He was half-naked, bloodied and bruised, shamed to the bottom of the barrel. For a split second, I thought I went too far, but reminded myself that the beaten man in front of me could be Santa if greedy kids got their way.
“Dad?” It was Little Ray. He went white when he saw his father kiss the rug again. The kid looked at me like I was the boogeyman.
Raymond Senior managed to get up and put himself between me and the boy. “Son, get out of here!” Raymond screamed. “Call the cops!”
“No, Little Ray,” I said. “I’m on my way out, but you need to hear this. Your dad’s gonna tell you how important it is for you to be a good boy. To mind your mother and your teachers and be good to your friends. He’s gonna teach you why it’s important to think of others before yourself and to have a smile for someone, even strangers. You’re gonna eat your peas and do your homework. Your dad will tell you why, right, Dad?”
“Yes, sure,” Raymond said with a split lip. “I’ll do whatever you ask, just don’t hurt my son. Please, just go.”
To make sure the lesson rang true, I cracked my knuckles and every telephone in the room, dozens of them, exploded into smithereens. When the echo of bells died away, Raymond had aged into a man, Little Ray had a chance at becoming something and I was feeling pretty full of myself. I mean, you know what they say: every time a bell rings, an angel gets his wings.
I walked to the window with a smile on my face, turned to Hall Senior and Junior and said, “Now be good for goodness’ sake.”
CHAPTER 8
Arose Such a Clatter
THE MARSHMALLOW WORLD GAZETTE
Cane Promises Elves Can Meet Toy Demand
An Exclusive Interview with Rosebud Jubilee
“It’s not only beginning to look a lot like Christmas,” one anonymous toy elf told me, “it’s beginning to look like a chain gang. Santa is working everyone, including himself, to death. It takes some of the Holly Jolly out of it, you know?” Similar grumblings have been heard the past few weeks, but recently appointed toy czar Charles “Candy” Cane says rumors of
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