This is one of my stories for Tales by the Tree - A Christmas Flash Fiction Anthology
‘Twas The Fight Before Christmas by Nick Johns
E-Book - Yes
This story is dedicated to my beautiful wife, Diane.
I was in trouble.
Again.
“Fighting all
the time! What is it with him and the twins? I never wanted a reserve anyway. I
got along fine for years with my regular crew. What am I supposed to do with
him?” his voice boomed.
“You’ve got to
take him.” his wife said.
“If he comes with me, I’m rewarding his
hooligan behaviour.”
“... and if you don’t,
you’ll never get the job done. Face it, you can’t do this shorthanded, it would
be a year’s work down the drain.”
“... oh I’ll
manage. Don will be fit. He’s a bit bruised and battered, but I’ll just adjust
the list. That way there would be less calls to make.”
“Don’t you dare
touch that list! It’s taken me over a month to get it to the stage it’s at now.
And Don may be OK, but his brother will be out of action for at least a week. The
delivery schedules don’t write themselves, you know, they are a finely balanced
mechanism. I sometimes think you don’t properly appreciate the work that I do.
It’s all very well for you, getting all the credit, not to mention all the drinks
and mince pies, while I slave away here in the background...hey, where are you
going?”
“I’m going to
tell him to get ready. He’s coming with me.”
***
So I was on the
team.
The others
pretended to ignore me – when he was watching anyway. He’d put me in the front
of course. That way I had to do the most work. No daydreaming at the back and
just pulling, I had to navigate. The new sat-nav software was useless. Upgrade?
I don’t think so. It never gave you enough warning.
‘At the next
chimney... turn sharp left, then stop on the white roof.’
They’re all
white, genius, it’s Lapland.
And every time I
stopped suddenly, the others took the chance to run into me. Those horns are
sharp, I’m telling you. My ass was like a pincushion by the time we reached Liverpool.
Anyway, the Boss
was doing the drop when I heard voices.
“Right lads, the
NORAD tracker says he’s arrived. ‘ere we go, just like we planned.”
“But Spike, what
about the kids?”
“Never mind
about that.”
“But Spike, ‘e’s
a right big bloke...”
“He’s an old man.
Do you want to be in this gang or not? Just do it!”
“But Spike, ‘e
moves proper fast...”
“That’s what the
net’s for, stupid! He gets tangled up, we grab the sack and leg it. Shhh ‘ere we
go. Got ‘im!”
I looked down
into the street and saw the Boss, flailing about, caught up, bellowing like a
beached Walrus. They hit him on the head with a stick and he went quiet. The
three lads then started stuffing presents back into the sack he’d dropped.
Behind me the
others were in an uproar.
“What shall we
do now?” Snickered Cupid.
“I could run for
help” said Dasher
“Zis is all your
fault. If you hadn’t landed here ve vouldn’t be in zis mess...” Donner, of
course, still sore about the number I’d done on him and Blitzen.
I’d had just
about enough of their whining. I bit through the traces and leapt off the roof.
I landed square
on top of the first guy, He lay stunned in a big heap in the dirty snow.
I spun around
and kicked out at the next guy. Caught him right in the gut. He doubled over
and lay there, gasping and retching.
The third guy
had a knife.
I backed up and
looked at him. Eyes like a ferret and a stupid kiss curl haircut. This must be
Spike.
“Hi Spike. My
name’s Rudy.” I said.
He just stopped,
like he’d been turned to stone.
“A talking
Reindeer bothers you? That’s not even the start of your problems, Pal. I’m a
fourteen point Buck and weigh just shy of four hundred pounds. My feet are superbly
adapted for fighting in the snow. This red nose, you see, it ain’t jam. I
fight... a lot.”
Spike shivered
and I didn’t think it was from the cold. He backed up slowly.
I lowered my
head slightly, the streetlights caught the glistening frost on my antlers.
“... and you’ve
got what? One knife? You’ve got to ask
yourself one question: ‘Do I feel lucky?’ Well, do ya, punk?”
I always wanted
to say that line.
I put my head
back and gave a full throated bellow. The windows rattled. Spike turned and ran.
The Old Man leaned
on my neck as I helped him back to the sled.
“Next year, Boss,
how about I come along anyway? Looks like you could use the protection.”
791 words
@nickjohns999
It is available to purchase at Amazon in print or for Kindle (these are Amazon Uk links but it is available at .com
