Midnight Visitor

A short knock on the door and he entered.
Anyone home?
Hypocrite, she thought. Disturbed looking up at the guy entering her home.
What do you want?
He smiled and no, she didn't feel charmed by the intruder.
It's nearly Christmas I thought...
No, need to think. You found your way in so you can find your way out.

But neighbour...
I beg your pardon.
I was thinking we could greet and meet a bit and I brought...
His hand disappeared into the bag he'd carried over his shoulder.
Any idea what time it is?
The midnight visitor didn't answer but a stupid grin appeared at his face.
You don't like it?
He showed a bottle with bubbling stuff, it was as if gas was escaping from it.
Interesting but not interesting enough to stand up and take a step closer to the scumbag standing in the kitchen and warming himself at the stove which reminded her of the fact she forgot to keep the fire on which explained why an explosion didn't follow.
Visited the Christmas market, he mumbled.

She heard him loud and clear but didn't bother to answer. She learned that every answer is good for more chit chat and the last thing she wanted was to hear more blah blah.
The clock in the living struck half past midnight with a loud shriek. The antique rarity had been a present from her grandfather who loved to find weird stuff to chase away unwanted guests out of his sight.
She pointed at the door, he didn't move.

I'm from Chicago, I saw gangsters killing if you know what I mean.
She shrugged and didn't care. A thread isn't a thread if there's nothing to lose.
The door swung open and there he was. The king of the mob entered and threw off his heavy coat.
He seemed to shrink.
Everything alright?
She smiled.
I'm fine, you know we wait till the clock strikes again and we'll see what happens. Grandpa left me a great present.

He nodded poured himself a cup of coffee and ignored the unwanted visitor.
I thought it only worked at midnight, he said.
It did but I changed it a bit, it's better this way. Midnight visitors aren't what they used to be and arrive later.
Slowly they drank. She her glass of tea, he his cup of coffee. It was a beautiful night, not too cold, and the moon shone through the tops of the trees. Words weren't needed. If the one who called himself neighbour would leave the clock wouldn't strike.
How about a film?
The Red Door, Red Rooms... must be good, quiet artistic.

He didn't know what was worse. Being ignored, listening to the chatter or the ticking of the clock. The drink in his hand fizzed. He quickly placed the bottle on the kitchen floor and walked backwards to the door.
I warned you sister, you don't ignore me, I'm unique.
Friend?
No idea who that is, he suddenly showed up babbling and pulled out that bottle.
She nodded in the direction of the bottle from which the sparks flew.
It won't be long now, she said.

The clock struck, and the midnight visitor had not yet stepped out the door but listened to what was being said. He felt himself shrink and shrink until he was no bigger than his former little finger.
I've got you, said the cat who jumped out and swallowed the little squeaker in one bite. The clock struck, fireworks went off and that was that.




22.12.24
The title is the prompt and provided by @freewritehouse