A 00Carter Christmas
Part 7 of 9
The
brisk air whipped Dr. Rough’s face as he surveyed the New York skyline from
above in his high-tech sleigh. “What a
perfect night to dash the hopes and dreams of all the families sleeping soundly
in their beds,” he remarked fondly, and a soft chuckle escaped his lips. He continued to gaze out into the night sky,
looking for the perfect house to begin his raid. “Eureka!” he shrieked as he spied the perfect
house.
All the windows
were dark. All the doors were locked.
All the New
Yorkers were dreaming sweet dreams and nice thoughts,
When the FANS
agents came to the new house on the block.
"This is
stop number one," the evil Dr. Rough hissed,
And he sent
Donnie to the roof, empty bags in his fist.
The minion slid
down the chimney, a rather tight squeeze,
But if fat Santa
could do it, so could little Donnie.
He got stuck
only once, for a moment or two,
Then he stuck
his head out of the fireplace flue,
He brushed
himself off, then scurried to the door
To let in the
others, tracking soot on the floor.
Pushing
the coughing Donnie aside, Santa Rough strode in to inspect the room. The tree glistened with twinkling bulbs of
red and green; ornaments obviously made by children adorned the branches. The lights reflected on the presents below,
the boxes wrapped neatly with big, shiny bows.
He rubbed his hands together in anticipation of ruining this family’s
Christmas.
“It’s
so beautiful,” Donnie sighed.
“You
know your jobs!” Santa Rough snapped, glaring at the underling.
Then we
slithered and slunk, with smiles most unpleasant,
Around the whole
room, and we took every present!
Barbies and Furbies and flat-screen TVs!
Legos and iPads and Nintendo Wiis!
And we stuffed
them in bags, till they'd hold no more.
Then we hauled
all our loot, bag by bag, out the door!
He
giggled with glee as he threw all the toys in his bag, inspired by his own
dastardly deeds. Once he had emptied all
the presents from the tree, he glanced around, looking for what else to
take. He spied the stockings hung from
the chimney with care, in hopes that St. Nick would soon be there. A snort of laughter escaped from Dr. Rough,
as he unhooked the first stocking and shoved it in his bag. “Bah, humbug!” he yelled and dragged his arm
across the mantle, knocking in the stockings and ivy and the little porcelain
Christmas village that looked like The North Pole.
Into
his bag, he threw the cookies and milk, no doubt set out by some children,
hoping to bribe the big fat man enough to give them more of the toys made by
his slave labor. He growled as he threw
the carrot left out for the reindeer.
“They leave something for the dumb beasts, but do they think to leave
anything for those who made the toys!”
“Dr.
Rough, Dr. Rough!” Donnie came running into the room.
“Every
operation, he’s gotta go yellin’ my name.” Dr. Rough reeled around to face the culprit,
almost knocking the silicone elf ears off the minion. His anger flared more when he noticed that
Donnie was munching on a leg of turkey.
He raised his hand, ready to strike a blow of annoyance, when a thought
crossed his mind. Stealing the toys and
gadgets stuffed under the tree would certainly hamper the Christmas spirit, but
taking the food meant for the feast would crush them. Snickering sinisterly, he tiptoed into the
kitchen, opened the refrigerator, and started to fill his bag to the brim. Up to the roof, he went, and even the sight
of his elves and Drumzy the Reindeer sitting around
in the sleigh could not cause the smile to fade from his face.
In his
tricked-out red sleigh, Rough packed it with glee.
"And
NOW!" grinned the Doc, "We will go steal the tree!"
Carefully,
Dr. Rough made his way back down the chimney to steal the last remnants of Christmas
in this house, before moving on to the next.
He stood in front of the tree, realizing what a large undertaking
putting the tree up the chimney would really be. The clock chimes reminded him just how little
time there was and how much Christmas there was to steal, so, bending with his
knees, he started to lift the tree.
Unable to stand upright again once he had it, he decided to drag the
monstrous fir to the chimney and then shove it up, where, surely, one of his
subordinates would notice and help pull it up.
Wrapping
his arms around the middle of the tree, he started to drag it, but stopped
short when he felt a poke in his back.
“Donnie, I thought you were supposed to be on the roof, waiting to help
with this tree,” he growled and turned to face the insubordinate elf. Instead, he saw a little girl with black
hair bobbed right below the ears, carrying a stuffed monkey and wearing a
backpack.
Dr. Rough
grabbed the tree, and he started to push,
'Til he felt a
small hand poke him hard in the tush.
He turned around
fast, and he saw a small niña,
Little Dora the
Explorer, who cried, "Papa Noel!
Nice to meet ya!"
“Santa?”
the little girl spoke.
“Why,
yes, it’s me, the jolly man in a fat suit, here to brighten your evening.” He let out a “Ho, Ho, Ho!” for good
measure. “And what are you doing up so
late, little girl? You know that you do
not get any toys made by underpaid and overburdened elves if you are awake when
Santa… er, I come.”
“I
was thirsty,” the little girl replied, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. As if to prove her point, she lifted the
glass of water high for Santa to see.
She did not want her thirst to be the reason Santa thought she was one of
the naughty children who try to peek early.
“Santa?” she questioned, having looked around the room. “Where are you taking the Christmas
tree?”
Dr. Rough had
been caught by this cute Latina daughter,
Who'd gotten out
of bed for a cup of cold water.
She stared at
Dr. Rough and said, "Papa Noel, why?
Why are you
taking our Christmas tree? Why?"
Dr.
Rough looked at the young girl and thought for a minute or two, and before
long, he knew just what to do. “Ah, you
see, little one, there is a light on the tree, just there, you see, that won't
light anymore. I am taking it back to my
shop for the underappreciated elves to fix, so that, on Christmas morning, you
will be able to fully enjoy your gift-opening experience under the glow of all
the lights on the tree.”
But, you know,
Dr. Rough is so smart and so slick,
He thought up a
lie, and he thought it up quick!
"Why, mi dulce niña," the fake Santa Claus lied,
"There's a
light on this tree that won't light on one side.
So I'm taking it
home to my workshop, my dear.
I'll whip my elf
slaves till they fix it and bring it back here."
The
little Latina looked up at Santa's face and back to the tree. She thought about it for a moment and thought
some more. She whispered to her monkey
friend and then said, “But there aren't any lights out on that tree. Liar!”
Fixing Dr. Rough with an accusatory stare, she pointed her bony, little
finger straight in her face. “Why would
you have to take it all the way back to the North Pole to fix one little
light? My dad keeps an extra string or
two in the basement for such an occasion.
But if you were the real
Santa, you would know that already.”
She
turned to the monkey again, like it was speaking to her. “You're right, Boots; he doesn't have a white
beard. Why don't you have a beard? Why is your skin so dark? And what is up with your EYE?” She pointed to his eye that was starting to
twitch with irritation. “You aren't even
fat, and everyone knows Santa has a belly that shakes like a bowl full of jelly. Not to mention your height. You are much too short to be the real Santa!”
the girl exclaimed.
Dora stared up
at him and said, "That's a lie!
If there's a
bulb that's burnt out, just get a new string of lights!
You're not the
real Santa; you don't have a white beard!
Your skin is too
dark, and your eye twitches weird!
Santa's s'posed
to be fat, with cheeks like a cherry torte,
But you're much
too skinny, small, and SHORT!"
“Short? Short?!” Dr. Rough threw the tree a full half an inch
across the room and stormed closer to the girl.
The
girl with the bobbed hair backed up only slightly, as the short Santa
approached.
“You
and that blonde brat Carter will be the first on my naughty list when I rule
the world. You should bow to me now, and
I might forgive.” Dr. Rough stood with
his hands on his waist, waiting for the girl to bow, literally, to his
whim.
The
girl did not hesitate. From her
backpack, she whipped out a can of mace.
“Santa, no swiping!” she yelled and sprayed the mace in his face.
Ohh bitches, it
was on! Rough drew back with a scowl.
"You
insolent brat!" he hissed. "Watch your mouth!
When I rule the
world, those who mock me shall suffer!
Starting with
you and that meddling Carter!
You'll pay for
all your tormenting and sniping!"
But Dora just
screamed, "SANTA, NO SWIPING!"
“Ow!” screamed the evil Claus.
“Santa,
no swiping!” The little girl turned to
an imaginary audience. “Help me keep
Santa from swiping. Say it with me: Santa, no swiping!”
“Who
the hell are you talking to?” Dr. Rough screamed, rubbing his eyes. “You are a crazy little bitch!” Eyes streaming, he turned to Donnie, who had
managed to sneak back down the chimney to see what was taking his leader so
long. “The tree, the tree!” Dr. Rough
shouted and, half-blinded, managed to follow his minion elf back up the
chimney.
“Ha!”
he yelled down the chimney at the girl still screeching.
“Santa,
no swiping! Santa, no swiping! Santa, no swiping!” she wailed, her eyes
closed and her hand outstretched, palm open flat towards the chimney. Dr. Rough could see lights turning on in the house,
as well as a few turning on across the way.
"NO
SWIPING, SANTA!" she continued to shriek.
Doors opened,
and lights flipped on across the street.
"Bail!"
Dr. Rough cried, as he fled to his sleigh.
In piled the
minions, and we raced away,
Leaving Dora's
family in their empty house,
With nothing but
a crumb too small for a mouse.
Back
in the living room, the girl sat down, a single tear trickling from her
eye. Nothing was left in the house for
the celebration on Christmas Day.
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