Tevun-Krus #96 - A Very Merry CyberPunk Christmas

Christmas THUGS - A Short Story by @sacredlilac

Christmas THUGS

By sacredlilac / Amanda Hare 

Tinseltoes, the lead elf, focused on the crunching of the freshly fallen snow beneath his curly-toed, bell-topped shoes to distract him from the task ahead. Following behind him were the thousand or so elves that made up Santa's helpers, from the woodworkers to the painters, caterers to cleaners. Every single one was there for this momentous occasion.

He stopped beside the portly woman wringing her hands and staring in consternation at the firmly shut and locked workroom door. "Is he still in there, Mrs. C?"

Mrs. Claus nodded down at the elf, showering him with snow that had settled on her hair, and pulled her fluffy red shawl tighter around her shoulders. "Oh, yes, Tins. I've never seen him this upset. He hasn't even come out to eat! Not breakfast! Not lunch! Not dinner! Not even midnight snack or pre-dawn tiffin! I'm amazed he's still standing! It's a good thing there's a toilet in the workshop, or he'd have left a mess for the cleaning crew."

Grumbling came from the section to the left, which Tinseltoes silenced with a glance back over his shoulder.

"He's just so upset all the icons would agree to forming such a group. Everyone has always operated independently. At the last group vacation, there wasn't one frosty breath about any of this Guild business. I can't fathom what they are all thinking!" Mrs. Claus' full bottom lip turned out in a delicate pout.

The sound of tinkling bells filled the crisp air as the crowd of elves nervously shifted their feet.

A smile spread over Mrs. Claus' face as she glanced at the large crowd assembled behind her and Tinseltoes. "I'm sure everyone is worried about Santa. It's so nice to see them all come out to support him."

The blood drained from the elf's face, and his blood turned to ice water. He stammered with nerves, "W-w-well, you see, Mrs. C, I think you and Big Red might have misunderstood the letter from THUGS that you received. Jack Frost and the Sandman aren't actually part of the Guild."

The matronly woman turned fully to face the gathered elves. She tilted her head as she considered that before asking, "What about Cupid and Jack O' The Lantern?"

Tinseltoes nodded solemnly. "Yes, they are, or, well, not them, exactly." He had to clear his throat a couple of times trying to spit out the next words.

A tiny crease popped into being between Mrs. Claus' eyebrows as she looked over the sea of festive red and green pointed hats above grim faces that stared back at her.

Distress filled Tinseltoes' heart at that tiny little line that he'd never ever seen on that shining, jovial face. Mrs. C was born with a smile was their joke. To see her frown was most upsetting. Knowing he was about to put the lights out on her tree almost had him fainting with nerves.

When she looked back to the lead elf, it was clear that she hadn't quite put the whole gift together. His muscles seized painfully as a paroxysm of anxiety gripped him.

He clenched his teeth together tightly to stop them clattering in fear and ground out, "You see, Mrs. Claus-"

"Oh my!" She cried and clutched at the shining golden Christmas Tree that hung from a necklace around her neck. Santa had given it to her on their wedding day, and it was her prize possession. "This is serious! You haven't called me 'Mrs. Claus' since... well, never!"

The elf cleared his throat and gave a small bob of his head, sending the bell at the top of his stylishly curled hat tinkling as it swung around. "You see, Mrs. C, Mrs. Claus, The Holidays' Underappreciated Guild of Servants is not made up of the icons, but their workers. THUGS was formed because we feel not enough recognition is given to the ones who are actually behind all the work that make the holidays a success. It's the Tooth Fairy's fairies that track who has lost teeth that need collecting, and Bunny certainly doesn't paint all those eggs or make all that candy by himself, and, well..."

Mrs. Claus' bottom lip gave a wobble as the unsaid became clear to her. Tears fell into the snow at her feet, pockmarking the pristine surface. "We do everything we can for you. Haven't we been treating you right? Just yesterday, I -"

The slamming of the heavy, wooden door cut off her sentence. Santa stood in the doorway of Workshop 347, outlined in the resplendent glow of the lanterns within. A large gun was propped up over his right shoulder. His snowy white hair stood out from his head in a shocking halo. His white shirt was smeared with red and green and bits of candy were stuck to it. His beard had hardened into a needle-fine point where he'd stroked it in thought with a glue-covered hand.

His voice boomed out over the assembly. "They want to upset the status quo? Well, I've got a little message for them!"

Before anyone could take a breath, Santa dropped the gun into his left hand. It was a gleaming machine made from the bodies of different toy cars and trains hacked together by an obvious amateur. The massive hopper had been fashioned from train tracks. Santa's arms strained at the obvious weight of it.

Despite the severity of the moment, Tinseltoes mentally tisked at Santa's hubris and felt his resolution to carry out the THUGS agenda harden.

Santa aimed at the large wall of Workshop 346 that sat fifteen feet away. The air was filled with the smell of peppermint. The sound of the gun firing almost masked the thud of something striking wood.

With a savage nod of satisfaction, Santa said, "I'm going to go put that on their houses tonight. Guerilla style. Those two are for Jack and Tooth Fairy. They'll never know it was me."

2, 238 eyes wrenched themselves from this heretofore never-seen specter of Father Christmas to the messages he'd written in red-, white-, and green-striped candycanes that the force of the gun's blast had half-embedded in the workshop wall. The top one said 'Frost off!' and the bottom one 'Tooth you!'

Tinseltoes felt his eyebrows wing up. He looked at Santa who had a maniacal smile born of lack of food and deep betrayal plastered on his face. "Um, Big Red, the candycanes might give it away."

Mrs. Claus shuffled forward. She raised a hesitant hand as if to lay it on Santa's, although she was still six feet away from him. "Santa, dear, it seems we haven't quite gotten the ornaments hung correctly on the situation. Jack and Tooth aren't actually in THUGS. It seems that Tooth's workers are, and Bunny's, the other Jack's, Cupid's, and... and ours, dear. It seems they feel being the twinkle lights on the tree isn't quite where they should be."

Santa narrowed his eyes and turned his weapon on the crowd, most of whom were still standing gape-mouthed at the messages. "And where exactly do they think they should be?"

Tinseltoes felt the mood shift in the elves behind him as anger they'd never heard directed at them before laced Santa's voice.

Mrs. Claus twisted the ends of her shawl so tightly the elf heard the wool squeak in protest. "They feel they should be the stars on top, dear. How about we go and get you a nice cup of cocoa? With extra marshmallows?"

"There's only one star on the tree! And that's me!" As Santa hoisted the gun, a silent boomerang flew forward and cracked him on the side of the head. The gun fell from his hands and rolled away as he slowly crumpled to the ground, knocked out cold.

"Santa!" screamed Mrs. Claus. She rushed to his side and dropped beside his prone body to brush aside his hair and check where the piece of wood had hit him.

Tinseltoes nodded in thanks at Stocking, the best boomerang thrower in the Toy Tester department. He was glad he'd prepared for every contingency, but his heart felt like lead that they'd had to take down Santa.

Nodding at a couple of elves from the Gift Wrapping crew who had lengths of ribbon at the ready, Tinseltoes stepped forward to a sobbing Mrs. Claus. "We're really sorry, Mrs. Claus, but we need you and Santa to come with us."