Christmas on Crack Read online

  The woman shook her chest. “It was nice of the council to let you keep your job, you know, after everything.” “Who are you?” he said. “Do I know you?”

  Santa felt the tip of his nose touch her chest. He smelled peppermint, sweat, and.. .what was that? Talcum powder?

  She giggled, flashing her tiny white teeth. “Know me? Oh, silly, of course not. Why would you know little old me? I’m just a boring girl from a boring town.” She leaned in close, nearly smothering Santa between her breasts.

  As he spoke, Santa felt his lips tingle against the woman’s skin. “What are you doing to me?”

  “Oh, silly. I’m not doing anything to you,” she said, as she grabbed the back of Santa’s head and pushed it down to her crotch.

  IV.

  “Mrs. Claus,” the naked elf said. “My name is Aleph. I believe you spoke to my associate, Gimel.”

  Diana stood up and offered Aleph her hand. “Hi, nice to meet you. Yes, I talked to Gimel this morning about my husband.”

  Aleph shook her hand quickly. He looked at Smitty and then back at Diana. “Before we get down to business, are you available to speak now? What I mean to say is, I’m not at liberty to speak about this in front of anyone but you.” “Oh, yes well, Smitty was just leaving,” she said. She smiled at the squidfoot. “I’ll talk to you later, hon, okay?” Smitty nodded and walked into the street, sliding across the snow on his tentacle-feet.

  Diana said, “So, yes, I talked to Gimel this morning.” “Yes, unfortunately he wasn’t able to meet with you personally. Being his supervisor, I’ll brief you on the current situation.” Aleph pointed to a chair. “May I?”

  “Of course.” Diana motioned with her hand for him to sit. When he did, she noticed that, despite his having a rather long penis, he lacked a scrotum.

  Aleph handed her a folder and said, “Though our organization is known for solving these sorts of.. .problems, we really get no pleasure in relaying this information. It’s simply a job that needs to be done and we are willing to do it. I know it’s a rather difficult thing to deal with, being a spouse of—”

  Diana said, “I don’t need the ‘poor wife’ speech. Just tell me what you have to tell me.”

  Aleph sighed. He opened a folder that appeared out of thin air. “Okay. Here’s where we’re at ”

  V.

  Santa Claus felt like crabmeat squeezed into a sweaty leather glove. There was something coming out of the darkness. There were..

  Sugarplums.

  Sugarplums covered in vulgar snail shells spinning on axe blades. Sugarplums rolling like dice across the pudding-covered floor. Sugarplums giving birth to Saturn’s rings spinning out of control, spinning into other sugarplums made of hairy flaps of pink meat. Sugarplums with legs running to other sugarplums with arms, colliding to form Siamese chunks of quivering fruit-flesh. Sugarplum snowflakes falling like unlucky jumpers from skyscrapers that burn like Yule logs.

  What the hell is happening?

  Santa closed his eyes, saw starbursts and tasted copper. He tried spitting out the mouthful of liquid pennies but couldn’t do it.

  He opened his eyes. The sugarplums were still there. Some of them now wore wooden masks while others were covered in sheep skin and goat horns. Those fucking sugarplums were going to drive him insane.

  How’d I get here?

  Oh yeah, that woman. That beautiful woman. The angel. Oh my god, those tits, I remember those tits. Where the hell is she? Those sugarplums sorta look like tits. Angelic tits ready to burst...a milky supernova.. .all over my face....

  Santa felt a hand on the back of his head and he was shoved straight into the sheep skin sugarplums, which were now twisting into tentacles of red meat.

  A voice reverberated through the void. “Eat___ ”

  And Santa started to eat.

  VI.

  Diana Claus closed the folder full of photographs. She lifted a hand to her forehead and then ran it through her hair. “I can’t believe that bastard. After all the promises,

  all that shit.”

  Aleph nodded but did not reply even though he knew that Mrs. Claus expected him to. But he hadn’t been hired to be a marriage counselor.

  She said, “Who is she? Another Russian slut?”

  “No, she is not. Who she is exactly, well, we have not been able to confirm anything. As far as we know, she is just a woman from town, from your husband’s last stop, I mean.”

  Diana turned her head and looked at the family photos hanging on the wall. “Well, I want it to be his last stop for good. You do know what I’m talking about, right?” Aleph nodded. “I do.”

  “So you’ll do it,” she said.

  “I will but only if that’s what you really want. I’ll meet with my team, discuss the consequences of that action and we will bring it to you in writing. If you still would like to go through with hiring us for that additional task, we will do the job and do it well.”

  Diana nodded.

  “Then I’ll be back in a half hour with the paperwork.” “Okay.”

  Aleph stood up and started for the door. He stopped. “One more thing.”

  “Yes?”

  “This woman, she acted like she knew your husband even though he seemed to have no idea. Does she look familiar to you?”

  Diana reluctantly opened the folder again and perused the photographs. “No, I don’t think I’ve ever seen her before.” Aleph frowned and continued on his way out of the room.

  VII.

  Santa’s mouth burned. His lips, his tongue, hell, even his teeth felt like they were on fire. What the hell did she do to him? All he could remember was being shoved down face-first into her crotch, forced to suck and lick his way through three hours of warm, wet suffocation. He had only the slightest recollection of something else.

  Sugarplums?

  There was a flood of musky peppermint goo that left him gagging and gasping.

  He looked around but saw nothing in the darkness. It was cold but dry so he wasn’t out in the snow. Was he in a bed? Santa moved his arms around, hoping to feel expensive Egyptian cotton, but instead found himself engulfed in what felt like taffy.

  What the hell is going on?

  Though he had ceased to believe in the god of his fathers, Santa thought maybe the woman was some sort of avenging angel that had come down to punish him for his past infidelities. But that didn’t make sense. Would an angel force a sinner to pleasure her?

  Maybe. Santa hated having to speculate. He valued simplicity and hated when shit got complicated.

  A clip-clop sound echoed around him. The sound was familiar.

  What is that?

  Santa racked his brain trying to identify the sound. First he thought it might be the reins of the reindeer but that was more of a slap-slap sound, not a clip-clop. Then he thought it might be horse hooves but that didn’t seem right. As the clip-clop sound got louder and louder, he

  finally identified it.

  High heels.

  The clip-clop sound ceased and was followed by a click. Bright lights shocked Santa and he found himself looking at the woman’s hips, tightly hugged by her business suit. “What did you do to me?” he said.

  The woman crouched down so she was face to face with him. “I made you eat my pussy. Is your memory that bad?” Santa shook his head and looked around. He was lying on a bed made of a dark red substance that did resemble the taffy it felt like. It didn’t look edible, though. There was an odd metallic look to it as if it were robot puke. “Why?” he said.

  She laughed. “Why did I make you eat my pussy? Oh my, that’s a simple question. It’s because I wanted my pussy eaten. I wanted to have an orgasm. What other reason would there be? You think maybe I thought the Easter Bunny lived inside my twat and wanted you to speak to him?”

  “Who are you?” Santa said, intentionally ignoring her question. If he was going to get some answers, he had to be stern.

  “Well, that’s a tough one, dear oh dear, as people call me
/>   different things depending on............ ” She rolled her eyes.

  “Well, whatever. You can call me Kay.”

  When Santa had asked the question, he hadn’t really wanted to know her name as much as what the fuck she was doing to him. “What now?”

  Kay laughed. “You want to leave, dearie? Really? Just think about that. Examine your feelings for five minutes and then I’ll come back and you tell me if you really want to leave. Okay?”

  With more clip-clopping, Kay left the room, shutting

  the lights off as she did. Santa was left in the dark again. This time, however, he had something to think about. Did he really consider his situation a negative one? After all, he wasn’t looking forward to finishing his Christmas route. This was a perfect excuse. He’d been fucking abducted. Who could blame him for not delivering the last batch of toys?

  But was it really a kidnapping if he was being given the choice to leave?

  Anyway, his wife wouldn’t understand. She’d probably think he staged the whole thing just to get laid.

  But there was one big problem. Despite her beauty, sex appeal, and those glorious, glorious breasts, this Kay woman seemed dangerous. Santa wasn’t going to trust that she wasn’t going to hurt him. Magnificent cleavage aside, she could very well be the death of him.

  His lips were still burning from Kay’s peppermint snatch juice and he wondered if it had been poisoned. Maybe that was the plan. She’d let him take five minutes to think about staying while the poison coursed through his body, getting him closer and closer to death by cunnilingus.

  Santa decided he’d take his chances with Kay. He still loved his wife Diana but he just couldn’t see himself walking away from this new woman without experiencing something worse.

  If that meant Diana divorcing him, then he’d have to take that chance.

  VIII.

  Aleph nodded to the elf in front of him and then said, “Anything new?’

  “After observing the subject following a woman to her house, which you have pictures of, he proceeded to perform oral sex on her,” Simon said. He was nervous because Aleph was the top guy in the unit and was talking directly to him. “We have a video link up so we’ll be able to show the subject’s wife.”

  “Okay, good,” Aleph said. “But let’s cut the shit. You can call him Mr. Claus and his wife Mrs. Claus. Sometimes the professionalism wears a little thin.”

  “Yes sir.”

  “Mrs. Claus is leaning towards termination of her husband so once she signs the papers, it’s a go.”

  “Did she say how she wanted it done?”

  Aleph shook his head. “No, but in most cases, the wives don’t usually bring that up. I’ll give her a few choices. I imagine she’ll probably just tell me to make it quick, but to also let him know why it’s happening.”

  “And the mystery woman?”

  “I have to think about that. There’s something strange about her and I’d like to investigate further before we do anything rash. But if she gets in the way, I will not hesitate to give the order for termination. We can’t afford another slip-up like last year.”

  Simon gulped. “You mean St. Petersburg?”

  “Yeah,” Aleph said. “If that happens again, we’re all fucked. You’ll be fired and I’ll be licking the pecker snot off the floor of the Yuletide whorehouses. I’m not doing that.” Aleph turned and started to the door. “Never again.”

  IX.

  Santa woke up and realized that he had been moved out of the taffy bed.

  He was now lying on his back, his head enclosed in a wooden box. There was a round hole on top covered with black silk. The whole thing sort of looked familiar to him. What did it remind him of?

  Oh yeah. A toilet.

  He tried moving his arms and legs but found them dead. I’m trapped in a fucking toilet.

  Through the wooden box, he heard the clip-clop of Kay’s high heels. Here she comes again, coming to continue her sexy torture.

  Clip-Clop. Clip-Clop.

  She was getting closer.

  CLIP-clop.

  She was only a few feet of way.

  CLIP-CLOP. CLIP-CLOP.

  Then another sound: Kay clearing her throat.

  Santa squinted when the black silk was moved. Through the squinting, Kay’s face appeared above the hole, like an angel framed by a halo. His eyes moved to her stunning cleavage.

  Then Kay smirked, cleared her throat a little more, and then spat on his face. The gob of phlegm splattered against his nose, clogging his nostrils.

  “Rise and shine, honey bunch,” she said. “I hope you appreciate my morning throat-jelly.” Kay cleared her throat again and spat onto Santa’s lips. “Taste good?”

  Santa tried moving his face to get the mess off him but to no avail.

  Kay said, “I know you’re probably worried about not being able to move your arms and legs and I’m real sorry I had to do that. It’s temporary or at least it should be. I used some venom I took out of the black belly of a tarantula and it’s usually pretty harmless in the long run. Usually.”

  Santa felt weird talking to her while his head was trapped in the wooden box but he said, “Where am I? What are you doing to me?” Her loogie dripped from his lips into his mouth and Santa swallowed reluctantly. It tasted like gooey mint-flavored jam.

  “The answer to your first question, well, you’re in my bitch-box. I suppose your next question would be ‘what’s a bitch-box?’ so I guess I’ll answer that one, too. A bitch- box is a box where I keep my bitches. And you’re my bitch now. And to answer your other question, about what I’m going to do to you.. .I’ll let you figure that one out. I’ll just have a seat while you think about it.”

  And with that, Kay moved her face away from the hole and stood up. She pulled up her skirt, pulled down her pantyhose, and placed her pale, plump ass onto the hole, blocking out the light and giving Santa an intimate view of her anus.

  Goddamn, you’re kidding me, right?

  He stared at her brown pucker, hoping to somehow get her off the box using only his willpower.

  But then her anus winked at him.

  “Time’s up,” Kay said.

  Santa’s throat constricted. He closed his eyes.

  Oh no. No. No. No.

  X.

  It only took Aleph a half hour to give Mrs. Claus the paperwork. She had been surprised how fast they worked but then she remembered the elves had the ability to teleport or something.

  After only five minutes of reading through the details, Diana decided to go through with having her husband killed. If the proposed timeline Aleph gave her was to be believed, Santa Claus would be dead within the hour.

  “You’re sure?” Aleph said.

  “Yes.”

  “If you look at page thirteen, you’ll see the choices of termination.”

  Diana flipped to the page and saw the list of ways Santa could be killed. Poisoning. Strangulation. Stabbing. Shooting. Dismemberment. Drowning. Electrocution. Fake suicide. Car accident. Pushed off roof. Bludgeoning. Suffocation. Slow torture. Killer bees. Rabid raccoon. Throat cutting. Heart attack. Death by tiger.

  Then there were the disclosure details. Did she want her husband to know why he was being killed? If so, did she want it recorded in any way? Did she want to be there? Also, what did she want done with the body? There were myriad choices for her to choose from but it didn’t take her long to decide.

  “I want you to tell him that I hired you. Then I want him beaten up a little bit and then killed somewhat painlessly. I want the woman dead, too. Just dump their bodies somewhere. In the ocean or something.”

  Aleph said, “The woman, too? Are you sure? We couldn’t find any details on her so I can’t say for sure if she even knows he’s married.”

  “I don’t care. I’m sick of these stupid sluts fucking anything that moves. They don’t care if the guy’s married or anything. You’ll be doing the world a favor.”

  “Then consider it done,” Aleph said.
He was a little apprehensive about killing the woman, not because he had any sort of moral objection to it but because there was something strange about her, something dangerous, and it could all come back to bite him in the ass.

  XI.

  Aleph watched the woman leave the house.

  Through his team of surveillance experts, he found out the woman’s name was Kay but that was just about all they found out. There was something about the house that made their surveillance tactics fail on almost every occasion. To make matters worse, nowhere could they find a date of birth, employment history, or anything that any normal human has in terms of a history.

  Aleph was bothered by something else. If Santa was having an affair with the woman, why didn’t he go with her when she left the house?

  Maybe he wasn’t having an affair with her. Maybe___

  She’s holding Santa Claus against his will. But that was impossible. Wasn’t it?

  It would make sense why his scouts hadn’t seen the man ever since he had met the woman. Could he just be hiding out in the house enjoying post-coital bliss? Maybe. But Aleph’s instincts told him there was something else. It was important that he find out what that was because if Santa was not being unfaithful, that would change the business arrangement with Mrs. Claus.

  Aleph spoke telepathically to his partner Dali who was stationed behind the house. “New plan. Find a way into the house, identify our target, and verify if the infidelity was consensual. ”

  Dali answered. “Will do. You suspect something?”

  “Maybe. Something doesn’t seem right. I’m not sure our target wants to be in that house. ”

  “And if that’s the case?”

  “If that’s the case, you let me know and I’ll make an executive decision to cancel the hit on our target. I imagine our client will want the woman neutralized but I’ll have to verify that. ”