For @bananafish in #finishthestory

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The War On Christmas

“He just marched in and fell down on his bunk,” Tili the elf began. “Hasn’t said a word. He’s been staring at the wall.” Rili thanked him and opened the door to the worker’s dorm. Gili sat, his legs curled up to his chest, rocking back and forth, staring at the wall in the half-lit room.

“Hey Gili,” Rili said. He stepped inside the dorm and pulled up the blinds. “Heard you weren’t feeling too good. What’s wrong?”

Gili said nothing. He continued staring, his elvish eyes a shade of absence, black circles hanging beneath them.

Rili stepped forward and put a hand on Gili’s shoulder. “I can’t help you if you don’t talk to me, Gili,” he said. “What’s wrong? What’s the matter?”

Gili turned his head to Rili, as if noticing him for the first time. The light slowly returned to his eyes. “What’s wrong?” Rili asked again.

“You won’t believe what I caught Santa doing…” Gili whispered.

---

Rili stormed out of the dorm, Tili chasing his heels down the shoddy hallway to the creaky elevator. “Well?” Tili asked. “What did he say? I heard him whispering.”

“We need to get a hold of Rudolph. Now,” Rili said.

“What? Rudy? What’s the matter?” Tili asked, the nervousness building in his voice.

“Do you still remember how to use a cane spear?” Rili asked.

“A cane spear? We haven’t used one of those in a thousand years…”

“I want every able bodied elfman and elfwoman out in front of the workshop, armed with a cane spear at sundown.” Rili smashed the elevator call button repeatedly.

“That’s crazy,” Tili said. “What’s happening?”

The elevator doors opened and Rili, foreman and village chief of the Northern Elves entered. “Santa’s dead,” he said.
“And the Cold has claimed him.”

The elevator closed. Tili collapsed to his knees. “My god,” he
whispered out loud. “It can’t be.”

The darkness of the hallway terrified him. Indeed, it seemed to call to him. Begging him to wander inside of it. Tili, for the briefest moment, heard a sound that, despite not seeing it, instinctively conjured an image into him mind. Of a skull, laughing.

---

Rudolph drew the arrow, firing it into the target. It flew straight enough, but landed just outside the rim. He swore, trying to load the bow again. But the booze was rising hard, now. And he fumbled with the arrow and it landed on the snow. “Damn this piece of shit,” he mumbled. “God damn elvish piece of shit.”

“Suppose it’s not a good time,” Rili said, wandering in from the frost clouds of the Northern Plains. “Not happy with our trinkets?”

“An elf couldn’t make a proper train or sleigh, let alone a bow and arrow.” Rudolph spat on the ground. “What business have you with me, little one?”

“The Cold has returned,” Rili said. “It’s consumed Claus. The wife is missing as well. Darkness settles upon the city.”

“And you expect my help?” Rudolph asked, lighting a cigarette. “You think the deers have any skin in this game?”

“I do,” Rili said, fixing his boo-bit-y cut-sy red hat against the frigid arctic winds. “I’ve called my elves people for the fight. Ordered them out in spears. We’re storming Claus’ manse at sundown in hopes to catch him off guard. He’s consuming us, Rudy. Eating elfmen and elfwomen both. Like little gingerbread people.”

“Yeah, well that’s not my problem.” Rudolph picked up his bottle of vodka, staring at the picture of his long dead deerwife. “It’s yours.”

“What happened to you, Rudy?” Rili asked. “You used to be something. A leader of your people. And now look at you. Lost in grief over a deer that cared for you not.”

Rudy guzzled more of the vodka, his red nose beginning to illuminate a hint of ruby light. “What do you know?” Rudy shouted, his eyes narrow in anger. “What does an elf know about love?”

“Enough to fight for it, Rudy. We need you. We need you and the deers.”

“The deers…are gone.” Rudy looked away, chugging the vodka and wandering off into the snow.

“I know you, Rudy!” Rili called after his old friend. “And this isn’t you!”

Rudy hesitated, his outline fading against the coming snows, before running off. Rili followed him as far as he could before the snows consumed him.

My Continuation

Oliver Barlow was in a great mood. His yacht drifted near Great Barrier Reef, where now, at the beginning of December, it was so sunny and hot that even him, the lover of warm weather, had to turn on the A/C. Especially considering his two charming companions: blond Lizzy and brunet Cloy, both in their early twenties were much less tolerant to the temperature range.

Oliver was 45 years of age, but people couldn’t give him more than thirty-six and a quarter. His blue eyes looked playfully on his bronzed face with a Roman nose and narrow strip of pale lips. His well-developed tall and trim body was relaxing in Remmus Sun chair in the Yacht’s bar. He was savoring Louis XII cognac while the girls were sipping extra dry Martini. His yacht also had a spacious party lounge with a dance floor, the 50-yard pool, the gym, the formal dining room, a huge master bedroom where all three of them disappeared at night, and many other rooms and support accommodations for a boat and kitchen crews.

From his relatives, Oliver inherited the huge chain of department stores in the USA, Canada, and Europe. He could have been on the Forbes list if not for his desire to keep the low profile thus owning everything through figureheads.

Suddenly the 98” wall-mounted monitor came alive with Skype signals. Oliver clicked the remote and the passionless face of his trusted agent Albert Bejanssky dressed in Dolce Kabana business suit appeared on the other side.

“What’s going on, Albert?” Oliver’s voice was still velvety and languid.

“Ahem, ahem…” Albert coughed as though he was clearing his throat.
Having understood what Albert was hinting, Oliver turned his head to both girls and said with the charming smile,

“Sweethearts, why don’t you go somewhere else. Daddy has to talk about some business.”
Seeing how the girls pouted their lips in silent reproach, he added

“Go, go… dip in the pool or go to the kitchen and tell Wang Fang (that was the name of Oliver’s Chinese chef) to offer you some snacks. Daddy will finish his business soon and, I promise you, we’ll do something exciting together like an aqualung trip. OK?”

Lazily, the girls rose off their chairs and stepped out of the bar. Oliver now gave his full attention to Albert who was just waiting for that moment to say.

“We have a problem, sir.”

“Go on…” Oliver’s expression changed to a serious one; the vertical wrinkle crossed his forehead.

“We have a problem with Christmas.”

“Do you mean with the delivery or the sales of Christmas products?”

“No, sir. Much worse. We have the problem with Christmas itself.”

“What?” Oliver cringed, “That makes no sense! How could there be a problem with Christmas? It’s a concept, ephemeral concept, Albert. Can you please be clearer?”

“Indeed, sir, the problem is not with the concept, but with our “northern plant”, Albert’s eyebrows rose twice hinting the significance of the said words, “This problem, in turn, could affect the delivery of genuine Christmas toy prototypes, which could significantly affect not only this year sales and the entire future Christmas profits.”

“Go on,” Oliver nodded his head several times, “Hit me.”

“Well, you know that most of our Christmas Toys are produced at our facilities in China. But if we were to rely on their design itself, we won’t make any sales. The prototypes of the toys must be done on the real Santa factory located at the North Pole. Otherwise, the toys would be no more than a bunch of metal, celluloid, and fabric. The real Christmas spirit comes from spirited creatures that live there near the plant itself and, believe it or not, pour all their hearts in the work while living in a dorm and being paid literary peanuts. ”

“Why are you telling me the things I already know?” Oliver narrowed his eyes trying to hide his confusion. He was aware of the Northern plan, but never put much thought into it, as the emergencies similar to the current one have never occurred in his conscious life. When someone mentioned Santa or elves in a conversation, Oliver always had a smug smile on his face and accompanied it with some cynical remark. This time, however, he was forced to reckon with it.

“Please be patient, Sir. I’ll draw for you the entire picture of what happened.”

“Ok, go on.”

“This might seem absurd, but it looks like Claus went bananas.”

“What do you mean?”

“According to the report of our agent Rili…”

“Wait a minute. Rili - is that really a name?”

“Yes, Sir. It seems that a similar combination of letters is typical for elves’ naming convention. The agent Rili also mentioned some of his comrades in arm called by the names of Tili and Gili.”

“How odd,” Oliver mumbled to himself, “what would they do when they will run out of 26 letters?” but added out loud “…never mind me, Albert. Go on. What did Tili say?”

“It was Rili who reported that… they caught Santa eating elves. That in itself is bad enough. Imagine what hazard this crazy Santa would present for children! ”

“He must have freeze-dried his brains in that North Pole cold.” Looking at the confused face of Albert Oliver explained. “My chef sometimes cooks some dishes by freeze-drying them with liquid nitrogen – it tastes quite exquisite.”

“The disorder that Mr. Claus exhibited is called clinical cannibalism,“ Albert offered. “A rare psychiatric disorder, but in this case, it is lethal to our cause.”

Oliver rolled his lower lip forward as if realizing the seriousness of a situation.

“So what did agent Rili do to counteract this Santa that went on a rampage?”

“He organized all the remaining elves, armed them with cane spear and wants them to storm the Santa’s house at the sunset, hoping to get him off guard.”

“…and in your estimate… will this help?”

“I strongly doubt it. Santa is not a very tall man, and old and fat as well, but elves are very tiny creatures and…I don’t think the candy spears could do him any damage.”

“Well, let’s send there a platoon of our security forces. This will resolve the matter instantly.”

“Unfortunately, we cannot do that.”

“Why?”

“Most of the elves and evilness has never seen anything outside their North Pole plant. This could destroy a very delicate balance of their existence. In essence, these measures could destroy the Christmas spirit.”

“Yeah, we cannot risk that. What can Rili do locally?”

“Well, he was trying to recruit Rudolf to counteract Santa.”

“How so?”

“He confronted him and attempted to train him to use a bow and arrow. But it didn’t work as Rudolf was drunk as a skunk.”

“You are confusing me, Alfred. Do they also have skunks in the Northern factory as well?”

“No. That’s just an expression. Drunk as skunk just means…”

“I know what that means! It’s just with all these elves and anthropomorphic deer, I don’t know what is real and what is… goddamnit, not real! And, by the way, that’s ridiculous, Albert! I understand that Rudolf is anthropomorphic. But how can you request the deer to shoot an arrow from a bow? To handle a bow and arrow you have to be dexterous, while Rudolf has hooves.”

“Well, that’s not exactly correct, sir.”

“What’s not exactly?” Oliver’s irritation was almost at the level of his losing control. “What are you saying, Albert? It isn’t making any sense!”

“You see, sir. Rudolf is actually a man, but he identifies as a deer. That’s why Rili asked him to shoot from the bow in the first place.”

“Oh, boy, another nutcase. How crazy is that?”

“Sir. That’s actually not crazy at all. American Psychological Association has already removed boanthropy from the realm of psychological diseases. Now if someone feels like an animal they can proudly be one.”

Oliver paused trying to digest this information. His eyes widened, but he quickly got a hold on himself.

“Ok, ok, Albert. I am not the one who’d be standing on the way of progress. That actually makes more sense now with him drinking vodka and all.”

“Sir?”

“No. Nothing. At the end, who cares who Rudolf identifies with. I don’t care what he does in his bedroom or his barn, or whatever. As long as he’s on our side. But you said he was a drunkard?”

“Yes, Sir. Rilli said though that this was due to him having an amorous problem. He was very much in love with his deerwife, who passed away. More importantly, while being alive she wasn’t even that much into him.”

“Well, I think we can help him with that. I have just the girl to send to him. Once he sees her, he’ll forget about everything that was in his past.”

“But sir, aren’t you afraid this girl of yours will not be Rudolf’s type?”

“What do you mean? She’s everybody’s type. More importantly, she has some talents that are not noticeable with a naked eye. I tell you Albert, I once fell the victim of her spell and we didn’t get out of the bedroom for two weeks!”

“That’s not what I mean Sir? It is possible that Rudolf was in love with an actual deer, with a doe…”

“Hm … you right. Can’t you ask Rili about it? Wait… Never mind. I understand why this could be … hm … hm… uncomfortable. We are not familiar with deer personal pronouns. Let me think, let me think…” Oliver closed his eyes and lifted his face up in mental concentration. “Aha, got it! Just take them both to him.”

“Sir?” Albert’s face clouded with misunderstanding.

“Take them both: the girl and the doe. This way he can choose whatever he wants. Only make sure and pick the prettiest, the most attractive doe.”

“Sir? How can I judge, which of the doe is the prettiest?”

“Have a life, Albert! Imagine that I sent you to the North Pole for a year and you don’t see anyone except for doe. Aha, I see you got my point” Oliver chuckled, seeing how Albert’s face turned sour.

“Yes, Sir.” Albert’s face was passionless again.

“Okey-dokey. Just land the helicopter near his tree stand and let them walk toward him and ask for help. He’ll be cured in no time. What is important is whether Rudolf can overpower Santa? Can he?”

“Yes, Sir. According to Rili’s report, he is quite a large and powerful dude. Sorry, powerful deer.”

“That’s all that counts. Now for Santa. I don’t care how to call his condition “clinical vampirism” or “clinical cannibalism” he needs to be neutralized and delivered to a psychiatric clinic. The same helicopter that will dislodge the chicks for Rudolf could take Santa to Greenland, Sweden or Alaska whatever is more convenient. Make the arrangement and let the best doctors working on his case. We have a responsibility in front of the entire World to keep Santa alive and well.”

“But Sir, the treatment can take a long time. Who will save this year's Christmas?”
There was an intense silence.

“You are right. That is another problem. That is another problem… problem… problem…” Oliver mumbled.

“If I may, Sir?” Albert intervened.

“What? You have an idea?”
“Yes, sir. We can send missis Claus instead of Santa. All we have to do is to give her a fake beard and dress her as Santa. In every other way, she looks just as old and ugly as him.”

“The fake beard you say… Forget the beard. It’s about the time when a woman can be Santa. In fact, create a new commercial and a proper Christmas jingle and put a lady in a sled!”

“That’s a great idea, Mr. Barlow! I am sure media in the US, Canada and all of Europe will applaud it.”

“Well, Okey dokey, Albert. And now, Just do it. I love Nike’s motto!”

“Thank you, Mr. Barlow! You’ve saved Christmas!”

“Oh, come on Albert. As great Mr. Wolf from Pulp Fiction put it ‘Let’s not start sucking each other's dicks just yet.’ Make sure the entire operation will go without a hitch! Keep me in the loop. Is that clear?”

“Yes, Mr. Barlow”

Oliver clicked the remove and Skype screen turned dark.

He rose from his chair, stepped out of the bar and went to the pool where Lizzy and Cloy swam.

“Guess what sweethearts. You cannot imagine what your daddy did for the name of Christmas spirit!”