Tevun-Krus #96 - A Very Merry CyberPunk Christmas

El Nicky and the Pine Cone Thieves - A Short Story by @jinnis

El Nicky and the Pine Cone Thieves

By jinnis

The old man packed his pipe and leaned back in his favourite rocking chair. Not that he had several, but it was his favourite, anyway. Who needed multiple rocking chairs? Perhaps some people did, but he had no intention of contemplating the problem of human greed, the unholy tendency to hoard unnecessary items and status symbols. Not today, of all times. Hmm, would a rocking chair be considered a status symbol?

He chewed on the stem of his pipe, stared into the flames consuming a log in the fireplace, and decided his brooding wasn't expedient. The last thing he intended to do was spoil this first day of his well-earned retirement, pondering problems and puzzles he couldn't solve. Especially since he knew where this would lead in the end.

He'd start fretting over retirement. Again. He'd feel old and useless and discarded, a dinosaur in a glittering neon world. He—

Ding.

The doorbell interrupted the train of morose thoughts before it could spiral down another black hole. The old man fought himself out of the rocking chair, slipped into his carpet slippers and shuffled towards the door. Halfway across the living room, the bell rang again.

Ding.

"What's the hurry? I'm on my way."

Ding-ding-ding.

He stopped in the hallway and considered ignoring the rude guest. But that would be rude too, wouldn't it? In his long and happy life, he'd always made a point of remaining friendly and supportive, no matter the mood of his customers. He wouldn't compromise his treasured values on his first day of retirement.

Another desperate ding, and he opened the door to a remarkable sight. A small, black squirrel clung to the braided string attached to the clapper of his old-fashioned bronze doorbell, swinging back and forth.

"What are you doing here, Silvertail? Shouldn't you be in the workshop?"

The squirrel dropped to the floor, ran up to the old man, and clawed at his trouser leg, its brown-and-silver striped tail twitching.

"So, what's so urgent that you came all the way out here to visit an old-timer like me, little one?"

He got no answer, but the distress of the agitated rodent made it clear he couldn't and shouldn't waste time.

~

An hour later, he knocked at the door of the workshop, the same door he only yesterday thought would close behind him for the last time. The squirrel sat on his shoulder, half hurried in his bushy beard.

"Don't get too comfortable there, Silvertail, you know I can't stay with you." As an answer, the small fellow nibbled at his ear. The old man chuckled and pulled the bell string. This one was far more elaborate than his own, lined with stardust and operating a three-tone chime.

The last note had not yet faded when the wide wooden door popped open and his successor stood before him in all his artificial splendour.

"Mister Claus, honoured by your visit." The pale winter sun reflected in the shiny metal of the artificial being's crimson-and-green breast plating.

The old man squinted. "Call me Nick, no use sticking to titles anymore. What's the problem?"

"All right, Mister Nick, if you prefer. There is no problem at all. Why would you think so?"

Nick squinted some more, his eyebrows two white, hairy caterpillars about to kiss right over his knobby nose. "I'm sure our little friend Silvertail had a reason to visit me today. So, what is it?"