How 'Bout A Drink, Santa? By Cory Cline
The last present of the night had finally been delivered and dawn’s breath was biting at Santa’s heels while he burned what was left of the night’s sky. At 1,800 miles per second, he had just enough time to pull into Tijuana and change before he met a few of the elves from the office for a drink at the Taj Mahal.
Once the old man was ready for his trip, the elves were officially off duty for the season. This year, a few of them were planning on going to Tijuana’s best gentleman’s club and it didn’t take much to twist Santa’s arm and convince him to meet them after work to celebrate another holiday season in the books.
By the time the sun came up in Pittsburgh, Santa was pulling onto the roof of the famed strip club. He released the magic reigns and stepped out of the sleigh. A stubby finger to one side of his nose put him in a bright silk floral shirt and a pair of khaki cargo shorts; his boots replaced with hemp flip flops. A finger to the other side of his nose and he was in the club.
Santa appeared in the chair closest to the bartender, who looked at him with surprise at first, but smiled when he recognized the familiar face.
“Hello, old friend. Glad to see you again.”
“Hello, Frankie Boy, it’s been a while.” Santa pulled his pipe out of his breast pocket. “Can I smoke in here?”
Frankie Boy smiled. “This is Tijuana, not the U.S.”
Santa raised the pipe to his lips and winked as he began pulling long drags on the best medicinal marijuana Colorado had to offer. “I’ll smoke to that, Frankie Boy. It’s surprising what they leave in lieu of cookies in the progressive states. ” He blew large smoke rings across the bar and with a twinkle in his eye and a snap of his fingers those hazy rings transformed into smoke candy canes and gingerbread men that danced to the music as they floated away from the bar.
“You haven’t lost your touch, my amigo.” Frankie wiped the bar in front of the cheerful old man.
Santa took in the sights of the club. Women were everywhere in various degrees of undress, with even more men following them around like happy puppy dogs. Bright lights flashed and spot lights on stages illuminated things that Santa could never ask Mrs. Clause to do.
“How ‘bout a drink? Every year there are more and more stops to make, these humans make rabbits look asexual, I tell ya.” Santa pulled out his wallet and laid a twenty dollar bill on the bar.
Frankie Boy laughed while he poured Santa the only drink his old friend had ever ordered; Jameson, straight. He jumped when three more guests arrived on the chairs around Santa at the bar, spilling a dab of whiskey on the bar.
Santa, used to how elf magic made transportation so easy, laughed and smacked his meaty palm on the bar. “Three more drinks for my friends, Frankie Boy.” Santa turned his attention to his three friends. “ Hello Chipper, Angelic, and Happy.”
Chipper Jollytoes, Angelic Peppermintbuns, and Happy Twinkletoes all greeted their boss with good cheer and congratulations on another successful ride while Frankie Boy made them their drinks. The elves were full of good spirits, as always, but Santa wondered if they had made any stops on the way down south.
Happy didn’t take long to tell on her friends. “Vegas is amazing during the holidays.” She laughed, while the other elves looked at her with raised elf brows. “What, was I not supposed to say anything?”
“No. Jeez, not everything has to be a story.” Angelic said, slapping her friend on the arm.
Santa laughed. “I see my elves had the opportunity to indulge themselves in Sin City.” He patted Angelic on the back as his stomach rolled and bounced. “Vegas don’t have shit on Tijuanna.” The bar shook and alcohol spilled onto the bar again as Santa continued to laugh.
“Watch it, fat-man!” Chipper laughed as she raised her glass off the bar and away from the vibrations caused by his earnest laughter. “Alcohol abuse!” She threw the shot back with the ease of a sailor returning from sea.
They all laughed and shared stories and good cheer. More drinks were bought and even more were consumed as the clubs patrons could not resist the chance to buy Santa and his elves a drink. The bar tab they were running was more than what Santa had expected and he soon found he was going to need to find an ATM.
Santa slid out of his chair with the grace of a giraffe on roller-skates and proceeded to drop to the floor as if gravity had ceased to exist.
Chipper, Angelic, Happy and yes, Santa himself began to laugh uncontrollably.
“Good thing Rudolph leads the way.” Santa laughed harder and soon his hearty laugh was heard throughout the bar.
“It would be, but I bet him an eighth of mushrooms that his nose didn’t blink when he sneezed.” Chipper Jollytoes grabbed Santa’s shirt and pulled him up with surprising ease for such a little creature. “Why didn’t you tell me that his nose lit up when he sneezed?” She tried to look as angry as her little elf face could make her but Santa only laughed more, throwing his head back before Chipper let him fall back to the floor with a heavy thud. His large belly filling with air and sending out immense holiday cheer throughout the club with every guffaw that shook him.
More drinks were sent, more laughter to be had and when Santa could finally stand and control his laughter he remembered he still needed more money. He stumbled, feeling the effects of his laughter in his enormous gut. He only bumped into two people on the way to the ATM, the holiday cheer had spread far and wide and Santa was met with good cheer from the normally aggressive crowd.
As he swayed and stumbled and squinted as he got to the dark corner where the ATM was, he saw the yellow paper taped to the front of the ATM.
Out of Order.
He looked around the bar. Chipper, Angelic, and Happy had gone to the jukebox. They were all laughing. “Santa Baby” began to play on the clubs industrial strength speakers.
“Oh!No!No!” Santa huffed. He hated that song, and headed for the door so he could find another ATM. He knew those three were going to be playing at least ten dollars’ worth of holiday songs.
He stumbled into the humid warmth of the early morning where other drunks stumbled around like confused zombies. A feral dog ran across the street and Santa saw a light pole casting its beam on a glowing ATM like a beacon for more good cheer.
Santa stumbled away from the club. Forgetting the most important rule of having fun in Tijuana, never travel alone at night. His drunken shamble caught the interest of Tijuana’s finest who arrived just as Santa had pocketed his wallet after successfully refilling its contents.
A battered old pickup with six armed police officers stopped in front of him. Santa raised his hands to block the bright light of the pickup’s headlights. He could only make out shadows and when he stumbled backwards, his leg hit a big plant stand and he fell in it, which only brought back the heavy guffaws of laughter that had filled the bar minutes before.
Two of the police officers jumped out of the back of the truck. They were still kids and should be in bed dreaming of gumdrops and lollipops, not driving around a ruthless town with fingers on their fully automatic assault rifle.
Santa laughed harder as he was dragged to the back of the truck.
“Are you O.K.?” One of them asked in broken English. They assumed he was American.
Santa laughed. “I have to piss.”
They stood him up, helping him stand as he wavered to the side of the truck where they allowed him to try to relieve himself. After spraying all over the side of the truck, the street, and himself; he tried to gather some sort of dignity. Santa swayed and stumbled as he tried to zip up. His hands unable to do what his brain told them to and he only laughed harder and faster as his amusement at his epic fail grew.
Santa fell again. The police, un-amused, now dragged him into the back of the truck and took off with a cloud of dust. Santa’s laughter could be heard from blocks away as the heavily armed truck took off toward the jail.
He knew he was in jail the first time he woke up. He blinked and looked around at the dirt floor and bars in front of him in the small room. He laughed a little and put his head back down, sleeping was better.
His eyes fluttered open in the sunlight that came in through the small window in his cell. He scratched his eyes and sat up, his head pounding. He looked around the cell; saw a coffee pot on the floor and assumed that was his toilet. A soup can filled with water that looked less than appetizing due to its orange tint was on the floor next to the bigger can.
Two officers sat in an office across from his cell. They were laughing and talking in Spanish. It didn’t take Santa long to know they were laughing at him. He could tell they were still holding their rifles.
Santa stood and brushed himself off, “You really did it this time.” He mumbled to himself right before his three elf friends appeared in front of him. They appeared against the wall, out of site of the guards who were guarding their merry boss.
“Here you are! We’ve been looking everywhere for you.” Chipper said, her smile told him she was not surprised to find him here.
“Where did you go off too?” Happy asked.
Santa winked at her. “Wouldn’t you like to know?” He couldn’t hide the twinkle in his eyes from denying her a good story to tell all the other elves. “It doesn’t matter, I’m here.” Santa shook his head, trying to clear his mind. Alcohol and magic was never a good thing to mix.
“Well, this is really bad for publicity.” Angelic tapped her foot, impatiently.
“I know.” Santa rubbed his face. He was thirsty, but he was not going to drink that filthy water; if it was water. He may have mistaken it for the toilet last night; he couldn’t be sure and didn’t want to risk it.
“Oh for Jack Frost’s sake!” Chipper winked and a bottle of crisp fresh water melted by chimney straight from the North Pole appeared in her hand. “Here, drink up, fat man.”
Santa took the frosty bottle and drank it. The icy water slipped past his parched lips with ease and his eager gulps were too much for his mouth to handle as he sputtered and coughed before he took the bottle away.
His three elf friends wiped the water off their faces. The police officers were pointing at him, and Santa had a feeling that it was time to go. He quickly chugged the rest of the magically refreshing water and held the empty bottle up to his eye. He winked twice.
By the time the officers were out of their office, Santa took the now smoking bottle and threw it down the hallway towards the office door. It rattled and bounced down the hallway sending out a haze that filled the corridor with enough fog for the prisoner to make some real magic. He touched the side of his nose, walked over to the cell door and with his size 11 black steel toed boot kicked that cell door down with less effort than it took the police to throw him in that cell.
Before the officers yells could be heard he threw his mittens down the hallway and pulled his pipe out of his coat pocket. It was always there when he needed it. He winked at Chipper, Angelic, and Happy. The gloves exploded with a poof of ribbons and his captors’ muffled screams were all the proof he needed that the ribbons had done their job and taken care of his escape.
“Is the sleigh on the roof?” Santa asked as he stepped into the swirling peppermint gas.
“Yes. Rudolph is in the trunk though.” Chipper said as they followed.
“Really?” Santa couldn’t resist a chuckle.
“Yeah, we had to cover his nose because it wouldn’t stop glowing it was attracting attention.” Chipper laughed when she saw the police on the ground. Red, green and silver foil surrounded their head with big Mickey Mouse ear bows.
“Poor, Rudolph. He thinks everyone makes fun of him because of his nose, it’s just because he’s such a light weight. Are the rest of the reindeer good to fly?” Santa stood tall over his friends in his red suit as they all looked at the police on the floor. They all nodded.
“Will they be Okay?” Happy looked worried.
“Of course, the effects of the peppermint gas will wear off soon enough.” Santa smiled and looked at the officers who were now passed out on the ground. “There was quite a bit in that bottle; might not be so soon after all. Do you three need a ride?”
His co-workers all shook their heads.
“Well then, I wish you all a great New Year! Until July?”
The elves smiled and waved as the big guy put his finger up to his nose and disappeared to the roof. The peppermint gas left a swirl of a giant candy cane in his wake.
Chipper winked and took off to the roof just in time to watch the sleigh fly over the Taj Mahal. It picked up speed before it blinked out sight on the horizon, heading north. A golden shower of magical stars and sparks were all that was left. Happy and Angelic appeared next to Chipper just in time to see the last of the elf dust fall from the sky.
“He does know how to make an exit.” Happy laughed as she prepared to part ways with her co-workers.
“So glad we don’t have to work today.” Angelic whispered as she held her head.
Chipper and Happy laughed. They all knew they would be suffering for a while after a night like that.
“Ten bucks says we’ll see him at Mardi Gras.” Chipper said before they all broke out into a chorus of laughter and they winked, blinked, and nodded themselves off of that dirty prison roof.
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Flowers In A Dumpster is my first experience with Mark Allan Gunnells. Since Crystal Lake Publishing has proven itself to be a pretty reliable source of new and original horror, and with that cover looking all posterific, I could not resist.
