"But the dream, the echo, slips from him as quickly as he had found it and as consciousness comes to him (a slap and not the gentle waves of oceanic tides), it dissolves entirely. His muscles relax as the cold claims him again, as the numbness sets in, and when his grey eyes open, there’s nothing but the faint after burn of a dream often trod and never remembered." --Brigade, written by Laura
When he speaks, the sound grates against her insides. Astri wants to simultaneously shoot and listen to him. It’s dangerous to let something so sinister have a monologue, dangerous to allow him to even attempt to reason with her. But, Astri is wedged quite firmly between a rock and a hard place and the Grinch has them backed against a wall in her basement. So, technically, she’s out of options. She can still feel the adrenaline, the evidence showing through in her wavering, quick breaths and her shaky hands. And then, as if to make matters almost impossible, he mentions the safety of her children.
Her eyes close for a brief moment, mouth pulling taut as she clenches her jaw in frustration. “Shit.” She thinks, knowing full well what situation she was in. They were in the basement, outnumbered, and honestly low on ammo. She exhales loudly, shoulders slumping with the weight of her unspoken decision. “Mom, no.” Lupei warns her, gun still trained unswervingly on the nightmare-ish demon looming in the stairwell. The Grinch speaks again, “So, what do you say, friend?...” And Astri lowers her gun.
“I don’t really have much of a choice, do I?” She growls, raising a single finger to indicate that she needed a second. The cropped-haired woman turns around, gripping her son’s shoulder with a strength even she’s surprised at. “Stay here, and I literally mean right here in this spot. Barricade the door, keep that gun close, and try to get some sleep. I’ll be back.” She tells him, feigning confidence. “Don’t do this.” Lupei pleads with her, a minute amount of worry beginning to show in his eyes. “I said, I’ll be back.” She repeated, turning away from him to quell the threat of tears.
She props the gun against her shoulder, gripping it with one hand as she strides forward to face the inevitable. The Grinch says nothing, instead smiling from ear to ear. Her eyes narrow and she snatches the ridiculous antlers from his hand, placing them haphazardly on her head. “Let’s get this over with.” She mutters darkly, pushing her way past the beast to ascend the stairs. She’s now exactly sure what she’s headed in to, but she’s slightly comforted knowing that she won’t be going into it alone. “And fix my damn basement door!” She call’s behind her as she strides into the dark hallway. The satisfying sound of the once shattered door being locked back into place is the last thing she hears before she makes her way out into the night.
In the frigid dark she shivers, blowing into her empty hand to try and cast away the initial cold. She turns about, looking up to her roof where the strange reindeer wait for their master. She puts her fingers to her lips, blowing a clear, sharp whistle into the night air. “Hey! You two overgrown dogs! With me!” The reindeer stare at her curiously, slitted red eyes blinking stupidly at her. Two, however, finally step forward - A large buck, darkly colored with a froth of white on his neck, and a smaller, slimmer buck, this one a calico of white and tawny brown. They leap from her roof nimbly, landing soundlessly and trotting forward to wait before her. Up closer, they seem much more menacing. Elongated canines and predator eyes send a chill down Astri’s spine. “Right.” She exhales, turning around to survey the neighborhood. “Where do we start?” She questions out loud, and her query is answered by the ringing sound of gun shells. She nods, jogging ahead with determination, both hands gripping the shotgun. The sound is coming from around the block, past the Henderson’s place. (Henderson’s place? Neighbors. Weird.) Astri crosses the street, crouching as if she were in a third world war zone - but by the sounds of it, it was quickly turning into such. She backs against the side of a house, peering around the corner to view her targets.
The street was pure chaos. Two houses down the roof of a quaint one-story was awash in flames. Bad and good elves chased one another, smashed windows, threw projectiles. Cars had flipped, trash was strewn across the road. There were people, few, skirting between one house and another. “Jesus H.” Astri mumbled under her breath. But where to start? She opts for the closest house, directly across from where she’s hiding. It seems dark, so she assumes there won’t be much trouble when she breaks, enters, and progressively fucks up their christmas. With any luck, they’ve fled long ago and she won’t have to confront anyone at all.
She rises, stalking across the street as quickly as she can. Santa’s elves are quick to notice her, and she twists at the waist, firing two shots that scatter near where they run. The reindeer leap forward, snarling eerily as they lower their horns to rush them. The larger, darker buck nabs one in the ribs, lifting the squealing creature above his head before violently shaking him free. The bright, christmas red color of the elves blood paints his horns and Astri feels her stomach lurch. There’s no time to be sick though, so she pushes ahead, striding through the front yard before firing a close-range shot that blows the handle completely off the door.
She yanks the festive wreath from the front entrance and slows to a walk, creeping quietly through the black house. There’s so much shit all over the walls - stickers, glittering ornaments, tinsel. Who had this much time to decorate? She takes her time, the deer helping, to rip all of it down and tear or break it. Nothing would be forgotten. Eventually she makes her way to the living room, where an ornate tree waits with a hefty pile of gifts. She re-loads, and then shrugs her shoulders, blasting each present to kingdom come and slightly enjoying the way the wrapping paper flutters around her. When she finishes, she sighs, thinking that perhaps this won’t be so bad a job after all. And then a faint click behind her has her swinging around, gun raised.
“Astri?” A woman says, holding a revolver that’s pointed directly at Astri’s face. It’s Joan, the too-involved soccer mom from down the street. The green-haired human had forgotten just who’s house this was. “Uh … this is weird, and nothing against you, but I’m gonna have to ask you to put your gun down.” Astri says, trying to stay calm. Joan doesn’t react, but her brows pull together. “You’re with them?” She asks Astri incredulously. “Now, I didn’t say that …” Astri tries, but Joan interrupts her. “Shutup.” She tells Astri, and the slender, short-haired woman draws up with surprise.
“I should’ve known you’d be playing on their team. Single mom, troublesome son. And you dyed your nine year old’s hair green? Who does that?!” Joan practically screams. Her hand shakes, but Astri’s past the point of arguing. Her eyes flicker upwards and then she looks back at Joan. “You were always such a snooty priss.” And then the antlers do their job, loosening the fan above her head so it slips out of the ceiling and comes crashing right down on Joan. “Dark magic for the win, bitch.”
There’s no time to linger, so Astri flees the scene through the backyard with the deer in tow. The fence behind the house is in shambles and she makes her way into the house behind Joan’s easily. This house, however, is awash with activity. Two reindeer (normal looking) stand guard in front of a sliding porch door, and as soon as their ears flicker in her direction, the Grinch’s reindeer leap forward to leap the attack. The snarling, coupling bucks clash and Astri has her momentary distraction so she can slip into the house.
The place is swarming with good elves. Astri loads her gun and goes for the sneak tactic, lowering to crouch behind corners so she can make her way to the living room. Around one corner she’s spotted, and the little creature opens his mouth to warn the others, but Astri uses the antlers to summon a roll of duct tape from a nearby counter and it plasters itself across his mouth. With one finger raised she motions for him not to struggle, and then swings around a doorway with gun raised.
She stands, facing the backside of Santa who’s got his army scattered around him. Her deer trickle in behind, lathered in sweat and blood. “Hands up, fat man.” Astri calls, and the lot of them turn around to stare at her. “Don’t make any sudden movements.”
Her body trembles as she listens to the footsteps slowly and eerily climb the stairs. She's on the verge of giving up, of letting the Grinch take what he may even if it means her life, but the fluttering in her chest tells her otherwise. Her heart tells her that it's not over and that there is still time to act.
Peering up Nayl stares at the window. Too small to reach the lock from the tile floor she clambers onto the toilet and reaches far enough to unlock and slightly open the window. Grunts of effort escape her and break the silence in the bathroom. Does she stop here? She wonders. Huffs of uncertainty expand her chest as her autumn eyes glance down to the piggy bank and Rudolph lying on the toilet lid and floor. She glances between them thoughtfully. Run away and escape with Rudolph or shatter her piggy bank and fight back? There is only one option for her but she doesn't know which it is.
The door to her parents room rattles. The Grinch is wriggling the doorknob before realizing that Nayl of course locked it. A Cheshire grin stretches across his lips as he leans to rest his forehead against the door. A sideways glance is given to the demons anxiously jumping around him. "Such a valiant effort, no?" They all cackle before the door is ripped off its hinges. The parents remain stagnant, oblivious to their house's destruction.
The bathroom door is torn away just as quickly bringing them all to a momentary stare down. Nayl has her hands on the windowsill contemplating flight or fight but she hesitates when her gaze levels onto the Grinch's pupilless eyes. "Didn’t anyone ever tell you Santa won’t come when you are awake?" His voice is gravely and cold. Nayl's eyes narrow but she doesn't say anything to him. Instead, she slowly steps down from the toilet and grabs both the piggybank and Rudolph but rather than clench them both to her chest she hurls the piggy bank to the ground. It shatters with an ear-splitting scream and reveals the knife that had been nestled inside. Nayl lunges to grab it, desperate. The Grinch hums and stares at the weapon briefly before looking up at the girl again. His head tilts to one side before he flicks his wrist, drawing the ceramic shards, knife, and Rudolph away. "We aren’t here to hurt anyone, unless you get in our way. But since you are up…" The antlers appear in his hand. Scrambling to straighten herself and back away Nayl stares at the option that rests in his palms. She listens closely, her eyes dancing among the Grinch, the demons, and the antlers while her mind is churning like a relentless storm.
Christmas is about family, it's about love. When she looks past the Grinch to see her parents sleeping, Nayl sighs. There is no way to fight past them all, not when they have magic. They are too powerful and could stop her before she even steps back into her parents' bedroom. She looks at the Grinch again then out the window behind her as she hears the jingling bells, cracking, popping, shattering. There's a war brewing out there, she thinks, before the Grinch affirms it with a sickening grin. He is still talking and she is still listening. Everything he says is true and yet a chill runs down her spine. It doesn't seem right that those words are dripping from him mouth; they're poisonous, they have to be.
He reaches forward and offers her the antlers, but she hesitates. Her trembling hand reaches for them because she knows the danger that lies ahead, but then she pauses. The jingling is still behind her, the noise entering through the open window. They're out there. "No!" She suddenly exclaims before spinning, jumping onto the toilet and climbing out the window. Snow icily wraps around her feet as she stands atop the enclosed deck. Her eyes look down into the yard. The Grinch, frustrated with her outburst and decision, crushes the antlers in his hand. A growl escapes through his clenched teeth but he tries to compose himself as he closes the distance to the window. "Girl, do you not realize the poor mistake you're making? We're just trying to help, you see," but she sees him lying through his yellowed teeth. "Santa doesn't need your help!" But I need theirs, she doesn't say as she turns her attention onto the fighting elves below. "Hey! Help me! The Grinch is in here! Help!" Nayl jumps cautiously up and down, but the snow is slippery and the roof is angled. She yelps as her footing is lost and she starts to slide down the rooftop of the deck. "Stupid girl," the Grinch mutters. He glances down to the yard one last time to see the elves prior to turning into his demons and pacing from the bathroom.
The elves are preoccupied fighting but a couple of them hear the yelling of the young girl atop the roof. "What is she doing?!" One asks before the other yells, "She's falling!" Quickly, they conjure a giant candy cane that Nayl slips down. She lands with a thud in the snow, crumpled and panting. One elf, the largest of the bunch, steps forward. "Silly girl! What a thing to do! Good thing we were here!" He turns to send a flurry of magic toward an opponent then looks at Nayl again. "I'm Snowflake," he says proudly, "Captain of The Jingle Regiment. Who are you?" A sheepish grin adorns her pretty face as she pushes her dark hair out of her face. "Nayl." A shiver runs through her but Snowflake quickly conjures boots and a jacket for her. He asks what happened in which she responds emphatically, her voice exasperated by the end. "You're bold," he admits when she finishes, "Why did you take the leap out of the window? They're a dangerous bunch, the Grinch and his little heathens. They could've hurt you pretty bad." Initially, the girl shrugs. "He said a couple correct things. Christmas is about love and family. I saw my parents somehow sleeping as though under a spell and I thought about what would be best to them. I have always wanted to make my dad proud." Covet, she muses as she hugs herself in the wind. "I've been good this year but I do make an occasional silly choice. It would've been too easy to just take the antlers and join him. I wanted a challenge. I wanted Christmas to be won by those who have always held it - Santa and his elves." A pause as an airy chuckle slips from her. "I'm tougher than you - and they - think." Snowflake pats her shoulder and turns to face the storming war around them. "We need to care of this and now. No more delay! There are demons running rampant in your neighbors houses." He points up and to the left just as the artificial reindeer scamper on the rooftop. Eager to help Nayl says, "Let's grab that candy cane and use that as a way to climb into the upstairs window." With a salute Snowflake whistles to a small group of eight in the Regiment and states his orders. Without hesitation the elves run toward the giant candy cane and topple it down before lifting (and half dragging) the sweet treat to the neighbor's house. Snowflake and Nayl throw snowballs at any and all of the minions who approach too closely to the candy cane and elves.
"HUP, HUP, HUP, HUP!" They shout in unison with every stride they take and grunt with the effort required to guide the cane into place. "Next step, Captain?!" They turn and receive the order to climb and battle. "Hurry!" Nayl runs after them and tries to climb the candy cane as well, but she isn't quite as adept to it. When she glances up she sees a fat boy in the window. He opens it with large eyes, staring at the ascending elves and candy. At first, Nayl grins thinking he is assisting, but when she sees the fat boy turn away then back she begins to frown. The fat child is trying to break away pieces of the candy cane to eat! "No, no, no! Leave that alone!" The boy doesn't stop as he takes hunks out of the candy cane with a hungry smile on his face. Acting quickly, Nayl and Snowflake run to the front door, but it's locked. They can both hear the commotion inside as they press their ears against the entrance. With an unexpected whoosh the door flies open and a man is standing there kicking a minion out of the doorway. "You shithead! Get out of here!" The minion lands and slides in the snow, but quickly turns to blast the father with magic, making him into an ice sculpture. During the small fight Nayl and Snowflake both pressed against the front of the house and quickly slip in once the opportune moment arises.
Chaos has overtaken the household, but it feels like the entire world. The Christmas tree is lying bleakly on its side with ornaments shattered across the hardwood floor. All of the decorations have been pulverized or scorched. When Nayl's eyes lift she sees the mother of the house wrapped in tinsel with an ornament lodged in her mouth. "Oh my gosh! She runs to help but Snowflake grabs her. "Not now! Deal with the minions first!" As if on cue they hear their comrades upstairs. "CHARGE!" There's running, jumping, yelling, and breaking. The fat boy has been locked in his closet with a few chunks of the candy cane to keep him occupied. "Our magic is limited so we have to try our best not to use it all!" Snowflake yells above the commotion while wrapping one of the minions with layers of ribbon. He then shoves it toward Nayl who takes the opportunity to lock it in the bathroom along with a few others in the span of time they're in the house. With the help of the nine elves they push the loveseat in front of the door as to avoid them escaping.
"ONWARD!" The elves shout as they run as a single unit out of this house into the backyard. "Snowflake, look!" Nayl casts her attention onto a nearby home. The Grinch is atop the roof staring down at them. His slimy grin flickers away as his head shakes. A few more heartbeats lock their eyes before he turns away to the chimney and begins to cram himself inside. His minions pursue as does Nayl and her nine elf friends. They bound through the snow and stop at the back door into the house. It's locked, but there's a small pet door that leads inside. "Sugarplum! You're on! Go!" Snowflake announces before the elf climbs through the cat doorway into the house. He immediately unlocks the door from the inside, granting entrance to Nayl and his comrades.
They burst in with determination in their eyes until Nayl realizes where they are. "Mrs. Crumley!" The elves look up at her questionably before looking ahead at the multitude of cats scampering across the rooms. Some climb into the Christmas tree only to jump onto the mantle when the tree falls. At first Nayl doesn't see her elderly neighbor but after looking through a few rooms she sees the old woman heavily taped to the wall. It's all Christmas ductape but with one strip that has pickles on it reading "Dill with it." She's about to rescue her, too, before Snowflake reminds her and points up to the stairs. The small gremlins are running around destroying everything in their path. Standing at the top of the stairs, smug as can be, is the Grinch. "Oh, I'm sorry for this Mrs. Crumley, but we have to watch the magic use..." she bites her lip before pivoting to grab a cat. She tosses the tabby at one of the reindeer minions. Nails and teeth are immediately exposed followed by hisses and shouts. "Throw the cats onto the demons, if you can! They'll distract them!" As a group effort they try to pick up and hurriedly toss the frightened felines in the direction of individual demons. One slashes Nayl's face and knocks her aside. A minion takes advantage and pounces on her only to be knocked back because of the elves' kicking retaliation. It's an awkward battle that doesn't seem to have a victor.
It can only last for so long, however, as the cats yowl and run out of the house with their tails lifted high and fluffed. "Retreat into the backyard!" They run from the house and stand in the snowy yard knowing that the demons are on their heels. "Silly, silly girl," they rasp in repetition as they edge closer and closer. "Guys, how much magic do you have left in you? There's so many of them!" Nayl starts grabbing snow and forming them into balls, some with ice inside. "I used my last bit already," Snowflake admits painfully with panting breaths. They glance among each other as the minions begin closing the distance. Snowflake, Jangle, Peppy, Sugarplum, Frosty, Bubbles, Twinkle and Cuddles all shrug and shake their heads. Nayl, biting her lip fearfully, glances at the reindeer minions. One suddenly leaps for her, landing on her head and scraping its nails across her jacket arms and face. Her screams fill the frigid air as she falls to the ground and fights to get the thing off. Snow sprays until she is pinning the creature down and hitting incessantly. She then grabs the antlers and tries tugging them off in hopes it will break some sort of spell. Much to her dismay, the antler simply breaks but never entirely rips off the demon's head. Dazed and confused, it lies there simply breathing in a catatonic state. "Those things are vicious," she grumbles while wiping away smears of blood on her face. "No more miss nice girl. Please excuse anything I do and don't use it against my presents this year." The elves worriedly look at each other then shrug. Only then do they realize one of their members is missing. "CHIPPER!" They call before an elf pops out of the snow. "Right here, guys," he sheepishly grins as he climbs out of the mound. "I have some magic left, but not much. We can see how far it gets us." They nod. It's worth a shot. "Try breaking their antlers if nothing else. It seems to stun them..." Nayl glances back to the one still lying in the snow behind her. When she pivots to face their opponents again her heart leaps.
There are so many of them, staring at her and the elves. Their claws are extended and their eyes malicious. "Chipper, now would be nice." "Oh, right!" A whirl of magic reaches for a few of the demons, turning them into gingerbread men. He shrugs. "No talons or anything, I guess? That's all I got." Two of the minions topple over with their lost balance, their faces planted into the snow. Nayl can't help but chuckle at first before reaching down to grab some of her snowballs. "Attack!" A one-sided snowball war begins and while at first it looks aimless, they notice that a few of the demons become soggy and crumble. Their legs snap when wading through the wet snow while others faces (the yummy icing forming their features) dribbles down. Unfortunately, Chipper couldn't change all of the demons into gingerbread men. There are far too many still advancing, still dangerous. The odds look bleak and Nayl begins to lose hope.
BANG.
"Snowflake!" The elves rush to their leader as he falls to his knees. A BB gun is held firmly in the fat boy's hands from earlier. "What's wrong with you?!" Nayl exlaims as the frost bites at her nose. "Why on Earth would you shoot one of Santa's elves?!" She runs to Snowflake as he lies down and curls in the snow. Blood stains the alabaster scene and it's as if her word is tumbling. "They trespassed," the boy grumbles while still threateningly holding the gun, "and look at what they did to my mom and dad!" "The reindeer demons did that, not the elves! You idiot!" The minions are still closing around them, some fallen gingerbread men that are trying to crawl across the snow. Nayl funnels her attention on the boy though and lunges forward into a run. He shoots but misses. Nayl jumps to the side then continues sprinting. He shoots again and she feels it rake across her arm. A yelp involuntarily slips from her before she leaps onto him. Her parents never taught her anything of violence, and so she slaps him multiple times then takes snow and pushes it into his face. The boy squirms and shouts but only after Nayl has confiscated the BB gun does she step away. A wide, loose ribbon lies abandoned in which she uses to tie his hands behind his back. Then she scurries to one of the fallen gingerbread-men demon and breaks off a hunk to shove in the boy's mouth to momentarily silence him. Their eyes meet and her heat shakes. "You deserve a truckload of coal, you imbecile." Quickly, Nayl turns her back to him and looks at the elves huddled around Snowflake. His delicate body can't handle the bullet in his ribs. A feeble cough breaks the silence as she steps toward him. Her own arm is on fire where the bullet had skinned her. "We'll protect you. We won't lose this war." Nayl stands among them and she looks tall and proud until she sees the Grinch standing behind the ranks of his minions, watching her icily.
Nayl
covet and myrina's creation
[post sparknotes:
1. Nayl chose to side with Santa's elves and she has 9 to help her.
2. She is out of the house on top of the roof of the back deck when she calls down to the elves for help.
3. She helped two households, one with a fat boy and his parents, the other with the crazy cat lady.
4. Magic uses include the giant candy cane and turning a couple minions into gingerbread men (the snow is what ultimately defeated those fellows).
5. The minions are surrounding her and the elves outside in a backyard.
6. Fat boy comes back into the picture and shoots Snowflake.
7. Nayl is getting a bit battered from it all.
Rachel is no longer screaming for him to shoot the deranged intruders and the girls’ wailings had drained down to mere whimpers and wide-eyes. Their eldest son Roman had finally shuffled his way out from his ground floor bedroom to scan over the scene with a blank gaze before turning and shuffling his way right back into his room without a word. Hands that had just been filled with the slick, cool heaviness of a shotgun were empty as he stood before the Grinch. A pair of antlers were clutched in his fingers now and he can’t even help the humorless laugh that escapes his lips when the green demon finishes.
A part of him wants to spit in the monster’s face, to tell him family were the most likely of all to commit the most hateful of sins against you! He wanted to tell him of a lustful king father that had forsaken his mother, let her bleed out alone in childbirth while he lay in the embrace of another. But…that wasn’t his life, was it?
No, he had two loving parents, Konrad and Antonia Kry, who had lived at 39 Courtwood Drive, Battle Creek, MI 49015 for over forty years. His mother bred Pembroke Welsh Corgis and they had anywhere from seven to ten at any given time at their sprawling, immaculately manicured homestead. Not that any of them would have ever of been forced to sleep outside, his father probably wouldn’t have allowed it anyway. Konrad was especially proud of his perfectly cut Zoysia grass – best yard in all of Calhoun county, the burly old man would have eagerly told any who cared to turn an ear. This was his life, he had good parents, a beautiful feisty wife and young children.
He extends a calloused hand to begrudgingly tie on the antlers as the Grinch suggests that he send his family off to bed. His girls are already turning back into their bedroom and with neither a turn of her head or an utter of a word, Rachel walks past her husband with her giggling toddler. Without a single glance back she steps into the master bedroom and shuts the door, the soft click of a locking door the only sound that followed.
“Bullshit,” He growls, tying on the fucking antlers, all the while dark eyes holding the murky green of the Grinch’s, “had to come to my house, huh?:” He blusters, shouldering past the Grinch’s stank, heavy frame as he makes his way down his (now)chipped cherry wood floors. “You,” he says, bending down to pick up the shotgun that had been flung across the room and pointing it at the Grinch, “and those little fucks better fix this shit, too.” He demands, pointing the barrel at the shredded pine tree and mutant reindeer hoof shredded couches. He must have been a comical sight of sorts, a huge man with a pair of cheesy antlers, clad only in a pair of even cheesier old red candy-cane pajamas and wielding a shotgun.
With shotgun cradled under his armpit he strides across the living room to a side closet, after retrieving a dial-code lock box he stuffs a subcompact pistol into his pajama pocket. “Let’s go,” he says, slamming the closet door and shaking out a pair of a work boots that had been beneath one of the smashed windows by the front door. After pulling them on, he yanks the door wide and strides across the back yard, leaning down to peer inside of the dog house where his Bear hid and wagged his tail. Big for nothing, useless as tits on a bull – or so his father would say. Rising up hops the side fence, for some reason it didn’t feel quite right walking out the driveway to vandalize and terrorize his neighbors. So he took the creek line, a jagged stream trail that lined the back of the sizeable homes.
“Not that one,” he roars, as a couple antlered demons raced up the back edge of Randall and Julie Porter’s backyard. They were old, easily into their 80s and he was pretty fucking sure even that ornery old man would have a straight up heart attack if any of the Grinch’s minions made their way into any part of their house, let alone their beloved neighbor along with them. Many mornings, he had made his way over to old Mr. Porter’s house to fill his belly with Julie’s thick-cut bacon and black coffee, he enjoyed the old man’s war stories. Not that one.
The next house up the back side of the creek he perhaps wouldn’t feel too bad about. Also a two-story, this one had a pool with a neon Playboy bunny sign. Gerard Lowe was some kind of “entrepreneur” who was known to have very loud parties well into the morning hours – not even the fun kind. These were naked bitches having fist-fights in the upscale neighborhood, cop sirens and one time they even had one idiot wander into neighbor’s side door and fall asleep in their sunroom. “This way,” he says, not bothering to see if they were following – he knows they are. He enters the backyard easily through the latch-lock fencing the idiot hadn’t bothered to add a locking feature to. He could see the synthetic blue, twinkling tree through the large garden window that overlooked the covered pool. A quick glance through the window showed presents stacked (no doubt for his brood of random bastard children and myriad of “girlfriends”) and on the glass table were two empty bottles of Jack and a few lines of white powder smeared around an overflowing ashtray. On the couch was Gerald, clad in candy-cane slippers and most ironically, Grinch-themed boxers. His fat stomach overlapping the hat and eyes of the cartooned boxers so that only the scowl of the Seuss villain was visible. With an amused laugh he tries handle of the back paneled-glass door but finds that it is locked. Ripping off a piece of the bottom of his pajamas he wraps it around his fist and punches a hole through the glass pane that is closest to the handle. Reaching through he pulls down the handle and steps inside, within seconds an alarm is blaring and a phone is ringing somewhere in the house. “Turn it off,” he barks off to one of the reindeer, his first magical request and within a breath the alarm is silent and the only noise was that of some wailing drunk whore and a balding creep scrambling around on carpet from the couch he had just fell from.
“What the f…f…FUCK are you doing in my house?” Gerald half-screamed, half-slurred as he stumbled forward towards him, hands outstretched as if to strangle him. “GERRY IS IT THE COPS?” A woman screams from somewhere upstairs as Gerald knocks into the coffee table, splattering its contents everywhere and tumbling over it. Kratos doesn’t even bother checking on the fat old sleaze that lay sprawled out and knocked out on the floor below, nor the woman from upstairs that continued to shriek, “IS IT THE COPS?” but never bothered to actually venture down the steps. He beelines for the nearby wetbar, upturning it with a satisfying clatter of breaking glass. Next he heads into the bedroom, searching around before finding what he sought with a loud “I knew it!” before the sound of a toilet flushes. Returning from the bedroom, he now puffs on a cigar and carries a Louisville Slugger in his right hand. Between he and the demons, by the time he’s left – everything materialistic about the Lowe household is smashed into smithereens. He’s already two houses down, a host of antlered creatures in his wake and he can still hear the shrill squawk, “IS IT THE COPS?”
He passes the Vargas’ and the Cobbs before striding straight up the driveway of the Pittmans. Though the driveway is empty he knows two new luxury vehicles, neither older than a few months, sit inside. Wayne Pittman owned a used car lot nearby and was, also like Mr. Gerald Lowe, a piece of shit. His wife, Maureen, was as snooty and snobby as they come, with huge fake tits and a squeaky voice - Rachel wanted nothing to do with her. They also had twins, dreadful little assholes that were a year older than his own and had been known to torment other, smaller kids on a number of occasions. He tries the door and to his surprise, its unlocked. They step easily inside and he, at once, swings out his slugger and takes the tree down in a monstrous crash. Within a few moments he and his demons have destroyed all the stockings and gifts. Wayne had about two dozen framed pictures of himself at various stages at his used car dealership hanging around his living room – not family portraits mind you. At the moment Kratos pulls out his gun to take target practice, a growling mass is ripping into his leg. Blood rushes from the area of the shaking dogs head as he doesn’t release but continue to bite down into his leg. He yells to the demons, “get it off me!” He yells, before a shot rings out from the stairway as Mr. Pittman begins blindly shooting into the dimly lit, destroyed living room just as a pair of Christmas Elves descend from the chimney. Just fucking great.
