Mythfits Read online

  Christopher looked down. He had wrenched an arm from the chair and was whacking it into his palm like a club. A small part of him tried, really tried to put the club down, but an uncontrollable urge to hit Gabriel had overtaken him. Christopher took a step forward, snarling.

  A moment later, Christopher found himself on the floor, twitching helplessly. Valentine was sipping a cup of tea from Gabriel’s good china. What had happened?

  Gabriel turned a device in his hand and glanced down. “Well, you’ve served one useful purpose today, Christopher. It was good to finally test this, ah – what was it? – Taser. We’re all about innovation and best practice here, as you know. Idea came in through the suggestion box, would you believe? Chocolate biscuit, Valentine?”

  ELF SERVICE

  Jeremy Clovenhoof whistled as he approached the shopping centre: weaving through the Christmas shoppers and cracking the occasional knee with his wheelbarrow. Unseasonal curses followed his shin-whacking passage through the evening crowd but the carol singers drowned much of them out.

  He was making his way towards the pop-up shop, The Elf Service, the subject of much discussion since it had opened a few weeks earlier. It occupied a large canopied space in a corner of the Gracechurch shopping centre and held special events for various seasonal offers, but the pop-up shop’s star attraction was a personal shopping service. The advertising claimed that it could solve any gift buying dilemma. All the desperate gift buyer needed to do was fill in a questionnaire, hand over the budgeted amount, and the clever elves would hand back a gift-wrapped present guaranteed to delight the recipient. Today of all days, Christmas Eve, it was sure to be busy.

  Jeremy had considered filling in a questionnaire for himself: it would be a nice surprise on Christmas morning; before deciding it was a waste of time. He knew what he wanted and why he was there. With a wheelbarrow.

  He was held up momentarily by a couple engaged in a full blown argument. The woman wore a hat encircled by dangling pom-poms so, by Jeremy’s reckoning, she’d already lost the moral high ground.

  “Seriously, it’s not hard,” she was saying. “I’m an easy person to buy for. There are loads of things I like. Nice things. Perfume, chocolate, you know.”

  “I’m not good at this sort of stuff,” he said.

  “Just buy me something nice.”

  “Define nice.”

  “Here’s a clue. If it looks like a household appliance it’s not nice. Got it?”

  The man nodded in a way that said he clearly didn’t. They separated so that Jeremy was able to continue on his way.

  The Elf Service pop-up shop was on the pedestrianised section of the high street. It was, Jeremy thought derisively, just a tent backed onto the service doors of a department store. Someone had attempted to Christmatise it by covering it in tinsel, positioning a bunch of polystyrene penguins, and creating a picket fence corral inside which two miserable-looking reindeer munched on a bale of hay. It was sad and tacky. The most Christmassy thing about it was the long queue of shoppers beside it.

  Jeremy joined the back of the queue with a grudging sigh.

  “Why you got a wheelbarrow?” said a voice behind him. He looked down to see Spartacus Wilson, tweenage terror of Boldmere. The boy was a menace to society, a rebel without a cause and one of Jeremy’s favourite people.

  “The wheelbarrow is to help me carry several cases of the Special Edition Christmas Lambrini that’s being launched this evening,” said Jeremy. “If I’d realised you were coming along, I’d have brought a truck.”

  “You can’t drive,” said Spartacus.

  “That’s why I would have required a co-pilot: to scream at pedestrians in the way. Why are you here?”

  “Come to buy a hoverboard.”

  “You know they don’t really hover, don’t you?” said Jeremy. “Don’t get overexcited.”

  “You trying to crush my dreams? Course I know they don’t hover.”

  “And I’ve heard they can spontaneously catch fire.”

  “Love a bit of danger, me.”

  They shuffled forward in the queue, drawing level with the morose reindeer.

  “Never saw you as the queuing sort,” said Spartacus. “Wouldn’t have thought you got the patience.”

  “Let me impart some of my wisdom. I have refined my approach to queues, and now consider myself an expert. The following conditions must all be true in order for me to tolerate a queue.” Jeremy checked them off on his fingers. “The reward at the end must be considerable. Check. There must be something fun to do while I wait—”

  “What, talking to me?”

  “No, working out whether these reindeer are boys or girls. Check. And third I always evaluate the chances of success should I go straight to the front and make them serve me first. You will see there is a security guard stationed over there, who might as well be wearing a Hi-Vis jacket saying ‘fun police’. Thus my checks are complete and I have decided to queue. If you created an app for that, we’d make a fortune.”

  Spartacus rolled his eyes. “How you going to know if the reindeer are boys or girls?”

  “I’m working on it. Can you see any scatter cushions in their enclosure?”

  “What? Cushions?”

  “Conclusive proof that a female is present. Fact.”

  “You’re a tit,” said Spartacus, shuffling to the head of the queue. The elf serving looked remarkably like a pale young man with false ears and stick on eyebrows

  Jeremy watched with interest as Spartacus put a stack of cards on the counter. “Top of the range hoverboard, please. Take it off the points on those.”

  The elf gave him a hard stare before shuffling through the cards. “These loyalty cards are all in different names. You can’t spend them.”

  “They’re my aunties and uncles, aren’t they?” said Spartacus.

  “You have a large family.” The elf’s stick-on eyebrows drew together with suspicion.

  “They said go and buy yourself something nice for Christmas.. My family love me.”

  The elf inspected the cards critically. “Mr A J Ramjit? Ms R Mboto? These are family members, are they?”

  Jeremy leaned forward. “The women in his family aren’t afraid to spread it about a bit,” he chipped in. “It’s like the United Nations of promiscuity in their house.”

  “I’m sorry but loyalty cards are not transferable. You’ll need to give these back to your … family. Who’s next?” The elf turned his attention to Jeremy, who trotted forward with his wheelbarrow.

  “Fill her up with Special Edition Lambrini and I’ll be sure to toast your elf later on.”

  The elf failed to respond to Jeremy’s humour, placing a token on the counter between them. “You can only have one. Bring this token back when Santa’s Sleigh comes into the square at ten o’clock and you can collect it then.”

  “What do you mean only one?” asked Jeremy. “I was counting on at least thirty. It’s the time of the year when we remember to get well and truly bladdered. Don’t you get trained in the true meaning of Christmas?”

  “One. It’s the limit so we don’t run out.”

  Jeremy slammed the money onto the counter and grabbed the token with a scowl.

  “Looks like we’ve both come away disappointed,” he said, catching up with Spartacus. “Let’s at least check out those reindeer, shall we?”

  Jeremy reached across the fence, shoved his hands between the legs of the closest reindeer and gave an exploratory squeeze. He promptly discovered three things: one, they weren’t girl reindeer; two, you shouldn’t startle a reindeer from behind and; three, the little picket fence around the reindeer enclosure wasn’t as solid as it looked.

  “It’s snowing,” said Jeremy, blinking at the night sky. “Either that or I’ve got concussion.” He was spread-eagled on the ground, Spartacus alongside.

  “What did you do?” asked Spartacus.

  “Proved why there weren’t any scatter cushions around.”

  Both of the
m had been battered aside as the reindeer, bellowing wildly, leapt from their enclosure. Jeremy had a limited view from his position, but it was clear from the screams and the crashing sounds that the reindeer weren’t quite done.

  He sprang to his feet and looked around. “Everyone’s gone. One way or another.”

  The Hi-Vis jacket sped round a corner, chasing after the stampeding reindeer a pair of feet stuck out from beneath the Elf Service counter. Jeremy pulled on them, an unconscious elf slid into view.

  “Wake up! My Lambrini depends on you sorting out Santa when he gets here on his sleigh,” shouted Jeremy, roughly shaking the elf.

  “Hold on,” said Spartacus. “Let me find my hoverboard while he’s having a nap.”

  Jeremy dropped the elf. “You’re right, this is an interesting opportunity.” There was a box of elf costumes beneath the counter. He took out one and threw it at Spartacus. “Here, put this on.”

  “You’re joking.”

  “We need to blend in. Then we’ll have a look round. I want to see where he keeps the tokens.”

  They both pulled elf tunics over their heads.

  “I’m not wearing the ears,” said Spartacus.

  “Sorry? What was that?” grinned Jeremy, cupping his hand to an oversized ear. “Thank you. I’m here all week. Tell your friends.”

  Spartacus ignored him and started to explore the boxes beneath the counter. “There’s loads of wrapping paper and bows under here. Where do they keep all the presents?”

  Jeremy looked up, his hands full of Lambrini tokens. There was a locked door at the back of the tent. “That goes into the department store.”

  Spartacus glanced at the unconscious elf. “This one should have a pass, but I think he’s coming round.”

  “Let’s get him inside,” said Jeremy. “You take his legs.”

  They dragged the insensible elf inside, his pass opening the way. It was a large warehouse area, with shelves stretching in all directions. They carried the elf until Jeremy spotted a cage.

  “Let’s put him in there.”

  “Why have they got a cage in here?” said Spartacus.

  “It’s where they keep the really expensive presents: electronics and stuff. Our man here has a key to the lock, though. Result!”

  Jeremy was suddenly bearing the elf’s entire weight. Spartacus had dived into the cage, looking for a hoverboard.

  “I can’t tell what’s in these boxes! The labels just have barcodes. Which one is a hoverboard?”

  “Just grab something that looks the right size and we’ll check it out. Come on!”

  Jeremy fastened the lock on the cage just as the elf awoke, leapt to his feet and started objecting loudly to his confinement.

  “Stop that!” said Jeremy. “I just need to make sure I get my fair allocation of Lambrini. By fair, I mean all of it.”

  The captive elf hooked his fingers round the cage mesh. “If I’m not there to sign for it, they’ll never hand it over!”

  Jeremy thought for a moment. “You mean someone wearing an elf suit and false ears must sign for it?” He did a little twirl in his elfy costume as Spartacus did likewise. “Think we’ve got that covered, don’t you?”

  The incarcerated elf sulked at the bottom of the cage. Jeremy followed Spartacus, who was dragging a large cardboard box through the warehouse.

  “Spartacus, my man. I need you to help me run this stall for a short while. In return, I will demonstrate my advanced IT skills and find you a hoverboard.”

  “Or I could just demonstrate my advanced box opening skills and find it myself,” said Spartacus.

  “Go on then.” Jeremy watched as Spartacus shredded the box and pulled out a layer of pale blue polystyrene packing.

  “Here we go!” he said, cracking open the moulded packing. “Oh.” Spartacus pulled a face at the electronic bathroom scales blinking into life.

  They went back outside. A customer was waiting at the table. Jeremy recognised the partner of the pom-pom hat woman and beamed at him.

  “I’ve done the questionnaire,” said the man, handing over a piece of paper.

  “Good. Come back later and we’ll have everything sorted,” said Jeremy. “After ten would be best.”

  “That’s too late. I need it in the next thirty minutes.”

  “Fine,” said Jeremy. “Premium service it is then. Extra ten quid. Cash only.”

  The man grumbled loudly as he pulled more money from his wallet. As the man left, Jeremy turned to Spartacus, waggling the cash along with his eyebrows.

  “We could make a tidy profit doing this. Grab those bathroom scales and wrap them up.”

  “Aren’t we supposed to use the questionnaire?” Spartacus said. “If they open stuff up before we’ve gone, things might get nasty.”

  “Fine,” said Jeremy, picking up the paper. “Let’s see. It’s for a lady and she likes perfume, chocolate and cats. Pretty sure there aren’t any cats in that warehouse, and perfume and chocolate is just dull, dull, dull. Zero imagination. Let’s— Wait, there’s a note here saying that if it looks like a household appliance then it’s no good.”

  “Scales are a household appliance,” said Spartacus.

  “Ah yes, my boy, but they don’t have to look like a household appliance, do they? Go back in there and find some paints. Think I saw some on the racking. Paint a nice cat’s face on those scales and our man’s done really well for himself. A customised gift. Tell you what, if you see any pom-poms, add those too.”

  “You are going to find me a hoverboard if I do all the leg work, yeah?”

  Jeremy checked his watch as Spartacus disappeared through the door. Everything was coming together. He just needed to hold the fort until the arrival of the Lambrini.

  He was dismayed to see that the security guard with the Hi-Vis jacket walking towards him. He had the expression of someone who didn’t know where the party was, but was determined to spoil it. Florid cheeks and a huge moustache quivering with self-importance. Jeremy gave him a brazen grin.

  The man eyed him suspiciously. “You look … different,” he said.

  Jeremy tried to waggle his comedy ears, but caught the flicker of concern on the man’s face. “You noticed my haircut. I’m flattered.”

  “Right. Yes.” The man cleared his throat. “We’ve caught the reindeer. Local vet’s sedated them and put them in a horse box. We need you to arrange somewhere for us to take them.”

  “Sure, yes,” said Jeremy, glancing at his watch. “Come back at ten thirty.”

  “Make the call now, these people haven’t got all night.” The man twitched his upper lip: his moustache danced like a rogue hamster.

  Jeremy pulled out his mobile and dialled a random number. Eying the security guard he spoke into the phone. “Hello. I’m sending our friends back to you for the night. Yes. They’ve been sedated and need somewhere to sleep it off. Just make them comfy. You can send them back in the morning. They’re on the way. Bye.” He looked up at Hi-Vis. “All sorted.”

  “Aren’t you forgetting something? I need to tell the driver where to take them.” He put his notepad on the counter. “Write it down on there.”

  “Can I have a moment to serve this lady?” said Jeremy, playing for time. He indicated an elderly lady, hair in a bun, who was waiting to the side.

  The security guard was clearly torn between growling stop messing about at Jeremy, and deferring politely to the little old lady. He stepped away, sighing theatrically.

  “I need help with a gift for my son,” said the woman. “I know I’m supposed to write this down, but I don’t have my glasses.”

  Jeremy recognised the woman. “No problem. Tell me all about your gift-giving dilemma.”

  “Darren, that’s my son, used to be what they call a Satanist. Do you know what one of those is?”

  “I’ve got a bit of an idea.”

  “Well I used to knit accessories for him. You know: little skulls, pentagrams, inverted crosses; that sort of thing. I was never
stuck for a gift idea in those days. He changed though. Something happened that turned him to God. He painted his walls white and got rid of all the Satanist things. Now he tells me he’s not interested in material goods. Where does that leave me at Christmas?”

  Jeremy nodded. “I see your problem.”

  “The only thing he’s ever mentioned is something about Christmas charity gifts which help other people. Apparently, Oxfam do goats. Have you got anything like that?”

  “Well, isn’t this your lucky day! It just so happens we have something that’s even better than a goat. Tell me your address so I can write it down.” Jeremy picked up the notepad and pen with a broad smile.

  After Jeremy had waved off Darren’s mom and the security guard, Spartacus came out of the warehouse with the re-boxed, re-wrapped scales.

  “Right, all done. Hoverboard time.”

  Jeremy slipped back into the warehouse and woke up the stock monitoring computer by the door. Spartacus was minding the counter, so he just needed to find the right box. It was important that nothing got between him and the Lambrini. Keeping the boy on side was crucial. After a few false starts, he managed to find the stock level of hoverboards in the warehouse.

  “Only one left! Nick of time. Now where—?”

  “Looking for something?” came a voice.

  Jeremy glanced over to the cage. The captive elf gave him a malevolent grin, and held up the last hoverboard in the warehouse. Shredded packaging was scattered around his feet. “Be a terrible shame if it got damaged,” he said.

  Jeremy was intrigued to see that the elf had actually mastered the art of waggling his false ears for emphasis. He was impressed. “We don’t need to be hasty now,” he said. “I’m sure we can sort this all out. Back in a tick.” He went back outside.

  “That man came back for his present,” said Spartacus. “The one you had me decorate with condoms. Where’s my hoverboard?”

  “Did you just say condoms?”

  “Yeah. Like you said.”

  “I said pom-poms!”