Death By Christmas: Be Kind Or It May Kill You

Death By Christmas

  Be kind or it may kill you

  Copyright 2015 Dorian Scott Cole

  Published by Dorian Scott Cole

  ISBN: 9781310689499

  License Notes

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your enjoyment only, then please return to your point of purchase or your favorite retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank-you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  Table of Contents

  Acknowledgements

  Disclaimer

  Images

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  About Dorian

  Other books by Dorian

  Connect with Dorian

  Acknowledgements

  Grateful appreciation to my wife, Sheila, who sacrifices so that I can write, and who is my beta reader and strictest critic. And to the writers groups who critique some things for me.

  Disclaimer

  This is an original work of fiction. Any similarities to any person, living or dead, or any organization, or any other literary work, are strictly coincidental.

  Images

  Images licensed from Pond5.com

  Cover: Original design with Pond 5 images included, by Dorian Scott Cole

  Chapter 1

  Fenrick let out a whoop. "There it is," he yelled, "just like magic. Calamity in our stock!" He turned away from his computer monitor and opened the credenza behind his desk. He took out a statue of the Grim Reaper, then he danced around merrily with the statue. Fenrick was a short, thin man who moved with grace.

  Jessica, the office secretary, momentarily looked in the door at him, drawn by the noise.

  "Merry Christmas to me, papa's gonna' have a brand new car, happy days are here again," he sang. He kissed the Grim Reaper. "Every time you strike, I make money."

  QQQQQ

  Jessica paused at the door of one of the attorneys, Sledge. He was always very approachable. "I just saw Fenrick celebrating that his stock was going down, and he was dancing with a Grim Reaper doll. Is something seriously wrong with him?"

  "Yes, definitely something wrong with him. But he probably bet against his stock on the stock market, and now he will make a lot of money."

  Sledge had the physique of a line backer with prison muscles. Tall and built like a refrigerator. Of course, he had been in prison up until a year ago.

  "Have you ever seen him in court?" He laughed at the picture of it.

  "I'm not allowed."

  "He struts around like a peacock with feathers fanned in full regalia - thinks he's some kind of king."

  "What's with the Grim Reaper doll?"

  "He says it reminds him that we're mortal, and to get all you can while you can."

  Jessica shook her head. "Does your name, Sledge, remind you that you're mortal?

  "It reminds other people they're mortal."

  "Did your Mama give you that name?"

  "Nah, my real name is Sylvester. But can you imagine a big guy like me being called Sylvester. So people just started calling me Sledge, especially when I landed on them."

  Jessica laughed. "You're too nice to land on anyone."

  QQQQQ

  Fenrick put The Grim Reaper, that collector of dead souls who carted away those whose time had ended, back in his credenza. It wouldn't do for his clients to see it. Fenrick had seen a lot of endings lately. But thanks to his excellent management, his legal business had succeeded.

  Finally the magic moment arrived that Fenrick had impatiently awaited. The stock ticker was going down for Megalithic Software, his major investment.

  Fenrick called Jessica into his office. A 10% drop in a stock price was plenty of justification to prune the herd. The price would come back up, but that was beside the point. This was just the reason he needed to get rid of some people.

  He rose from behind his large desk, closed the law book that was holding everything in disarray, and straightened his desk name plate displaying his title, Fenrick Appolon, J.D., below which read Appolon and Associates, Criminal Law. He strutted to the mirror and straightened his tie.

  He won. Sometimes. Often enough. When it suited him. He made more money if he didn't win. Winning was winning. Losing was winning. This was the wonder of the stock market and criminal law.

  Jessica scurried into his office carrying an armload of paperwork and looking frazzled. Her appearance was very plain, and she did nothing to enhance her looks. He frowned at her. She did great work as secretary, receptionist and paralegal wannabe. But her looks!

  "Jessica, we're a law firm. Appearance is half the law. Clothes and makeup. Need I say more?"

  Jessica slumped. "Yes, sir, Mr. Fenrick. I'm sorry, but my husband is out of work. I hope to get some new clothes for Christmas."

  "And makeup! Go to a salon!"

  "Sorry, sir. The baby threw up this morning and I had to redo everything. I just ran out of time."

  "Oh, that's a good one. Sorry, your honor, can we postpone? My baby threw up and I ran out of time." He held her gaze for a moment to make sure she was sufficiently cowed. "Hire a babysitter."

  Fenrick let the air calm for a moment, then continued. "I'm going to have to let a couple of people go. Get the paperwork ready and on my desk before you leave today."

  "But it's Christmas!"

  "Oh.... Well, I suppose that would look bad. I'll hold onto them until the day after Christmas."

  Intimidated she might be, but right and wrong were still right and wrong. Exasperated, she began, "It's not how it looks- "

  "It's business and the stock market doesn't care what day it is." Fenrick was unwavering, his stare solid ice. Nothing she said would make a difference, except to get her name on a dismissal form.

  "Dismissal names, Mr. Fenrick?"

  "I'll fill those in before I leave for Cancun after the party. I have several low performers. I haven't made my final decision yet," he lied. "Did you get my Cancun tickets?"

  She pulled tickets out of her armload of papers and handed them to him.

  "No bonuses this year. Stock is going down, and I've lost too much. If you hear any rumors about bonuses, squelch them." He picked up a large box from the credenza, and handed it to her, and immediately turned away. She struggled to balance the box on top of everything, and a couple of items slipped to the floor. She bent to pick them up, and dropped a few more things.

  Fenrick paced around the room, thinking and talking, oblivious to Jessica's plight. "And write something in the dismissal letters about how very sorry I am, but stock has lost value, and if they performed better this wouldn't be happening to them. Put it in an email that we can send to everyone after they're gone." He dismissed her with a wave of his hand.

  She finished reorienting her load. Her enthusiasm gone, she said, "Christmas party, three hours." Fenrick smirked.

  QQQQQQ

  The bar had thinned out and grown quiet, and Sledge's size made his booth look small. The woman beside him, Cheryl, was finishing her drink. "You got your stuff ready? Sledge asked. She nodded. "I appreciate you doing this favor for me."

  She smiled at him. "I owe you."

  Sledge was rising to leave when his old friend Terrel entered and spotted them. Sledg
e sighed. Terrel was the wrong crowd, but a friend was a friend, and besides, he was Cheryl's nephew by some quirk of fate. He had met Terrel in prison.

  Terrell quickly squeezed into the booth, pinning Cheryl between them. "Bout' it, bro'? What you been hidin' from me?"

  "Busy keepin' rats like you out of prison. That's straight. Gettin' real tired of it, too. That's damn straight."

  "What's wrong with you, homefry? You got it cool."

  "They all guilty as hell. I ain't doin' them no favors keeping them out of jail. They just come back in six months to doin' it all over again."

  "Why you gettin' self righteous all over, bro? You went to prison with eight charges stuck to you like a tattoo. You just like us, and that's a true confession. Just 'cause you got yourself out playin' jailhouse lawyer don't make you no Jesus. Don't yank my crank."

  Sledge smiled. "Want a beer?" They fist bumped.

  "You're stuck where you are. I'm stuck where I am," Sledge said sourly.

  "Hell of a place to get stuck, pullin' down lawyer pay. Gettin' major respect and all."

  "I studied law just to get myself out. I didn't want a career of it. But the D.A. made me work for a year for Fenrick and pass my bar exam. If I piss off Fenrick, he could make all of those charges come back."

  "You want me to take care of this Fenrick for you?"

  "No!" Sledge quickly replied. "Don't even think of it."

  "I could just scare him a little. Beat him up over a long weekend. Give him a ride he won't forget."

  "NO!" Sledge shouted. "It's being taken care of. Finessed."

  "OK, OK." He looked at Cheryl. "Haven't seen you since Sledge got those phony charges dropped against us."

  Cheryl grimaced. "Just don't ever tell someone I can foretell state lottery results."

  "But it's true!"

  "Terrel, it don't make no difference how accurate Cheryl is, the state don't like it, and the D.A. hates it. Don't do it again."

  "Right. So you helpin' my main man, Cheryl?"

  "Let's just say I'm not going to tell the truth at the party tonight about Fenrick's future. Not lies. Just not the truth."

  "Mr. Fenrick believes in signs and omens. A psychic should push him over the edge. So I recommended Cheryl for the party."

  "What kind of signs?" Terrel asked.

  "He believes there is a magic number when the Grim Reaper will show up, meaning his number is up. So she's going to tell him the number 12 24. Christmas Eve."

  Terrel's face lit up. "I got a idea. How 'bout I show up as the Grim Reaper. Give him a good scare."

  Sledge lifted him by his shirt so they were face to face. "Now listen good. How about you have your own quiet party at home, and that will keep us all out of jail.

  QQQQQQ

  Later Fenrick wrote the two names on the two dismissal forms: Jessica and Sledge. Neither were what he wanted in employees. He looked at the forms for a moment, then his phone rang. Merry Christmas from a big client - both of his sons were in jail, with big payments to him, and his third was caught distributing drugs yesterday. He walked around the office as he talked the man through the criminal process.

  No, his son wouldn't have to spend Christmas in jail. First offence, he could probably get the sentence reduced.

  Fenrick disconnected and entered the reception area with the party in full swing.

  Sledge immediately joined him. He would make two of Fenrick. The two never felt comfortable around each other. One was physically huge and powerful. The other was the boss and wielded power. In their temporary arrangement. Sledge was an easily manipulated puppet on which Fenrick could dump unprofitable jobs.

  Sledge had all of the charm of a prison gang confrontation. "Merry Christmas, Scrooge. Where did you get this Christmas party, a gag gift catalog?"

  "Merry Christmas, Sledge. What's wrong with our charming party?"

  "No entertainment, no champagne in this cheap sauce party. And I heard about the 'no bonus' BS. Are you going to stiff us for the party bill, too?"

  "The entertainment is coming. Kind of a Christmas and New Year thing. And there is champagne."

  "I don't see no material evidence. Where did you hide this alleged champagne?"

  Fenrick looked around. "I'll have Jessica get it." Fenrick spotted Jessica, and summoned her.

  "I had the champagne delivered to my office. Go get it."

  As Jessica walked away, Fenrick looked at the party supplies in the sack. He spotted a can, picked it up and began spraying over the crowd. "Silly string!"He shouted.

  "Noooooooooooooooo!" Jessica yelled. "That's not silly string, that's crack sealer!"

  "Ha, ha, very funny! Crack sealer!" Fenrick yelled back and continued spraying everyone. "Look at that stuff expand. That's a riot!"

  Jessica grabbed the can out of his hands. "I picked it up for my husband to seal the leaks in the house."

  "Oh. Well, everyone, go wash it off." Everyone got their hands into the stuff, trying to brush it off. Their hands were immediately sticky, and everything they touched stuck to their hands.

  "It doesn't wash off!" Jessica corrected. "Only nail polish remover will get it off, and only if it's wet! When it dries, it has to wear off! It bonds in less than a minute."

  The outcry of comments was too profane and numerous to mention. Many included ruined suits and hair and meetings and court appearances. Fenrick sat down on the floor behind the reception desk while the others headed for the rest rooms to undo their thick, new, body and clothing decorations.

  QQQQQQ

  Jessica hurried to Fenrick's office then began looking for the champagne. It was sitting beside the credenza. After she picked it up and turned around, she spotted the dismissal forms on Fenrick's desk. She saw they were filled in. Curious, she looked at them. She and Sledge were getting the axe. She gagged and nearly vomited.

  Jessica grabbed a waste basket and slumped down in Fenrick's chair. This was about the worst news she could get.

  What would she do? Her husband was out of work and couldn't even find menial work. She wouldn't be able to find anything. And she had no power over Fenrick. She had "borrowed" a few dollars from the office Petty Cash box once to buy food for her kids on the way home. She was going to put it back payday. But, no, fate intervened and Fenrick noted the shortage. The till had just been filled and now was short. He held that over her like a piano dangling on a fraying rope. Anything he asked, she had to do. She was at his mercy.

  After several minutes she collected herself and dragged herself back to the party, hoping no one would notice she had been crying.

  QQQQQQ

  When Jessica returned, the psychic had arrived. She had on a Santa Claus hat and was seated behind a table with a chair in front of it. The table display that framed her was decorated with Christmas balls and garland, and a banner above it named her, "The Ghost of Christmas Future."

  An attorney from the office, well decorated with yellow foam slathered from head to foot, sat in the chair facing Christmas Future. He pried a drink glass out of his sticky hand, then sat it down with the other. The psychic just shook her head and stifled a laugh.

  Christmas Future gazed steadily into her crystal ball. "I see a very good year coming for you. Good economically. Good for love - good for you, you handsome devil! You must have been a very good boy because you are near the top of Santa's naughty but nice list."

  The Lawyer laughed. "BS, but welcome BS! Have a merry Christmas!" He stood up, but the chair stuck to him. He pried it off his rump, and sat it down, but it stuck to his hand when he tried to release it. He vacated the chair and Fenrick jumped in. The psychic went through her routine again, then said, "Hmm." She waved her hands in front of the crystal ball as if scrambling something.

  Fenrick looked closely at the crystal ball, then suddenly jumped back.

  "What is the matter?" the psychic asked.

  "Is there a Grim Reaper in there? I thought I saw the cloud clear and a Grim Reaper appeared." />
  "No, there is nothing in there. If you are psychic, you see what you need to see. If you're not, sometimes the cloud makes patterns that your mind tries to make sense of." The psychic again peered deep into the crystal ball. "You're future is unclear. Neither good nor bad. I think you have a decision to make that will take you one way or another."

  "That's my every day. Good answer. You would know how to handle a jury."

  "Oh, and there is something else. The numbers 12 and 24. Do they mean anything to you?"

  "No." Fenrick looked puzzled. "Too short for a lottery number." As Fenrick left, a puzzled look still on his face, one of the office attorneys sat down.

  In another part of the office, Jessica cornered Sledge. She whispered to him, "I saw the termination paperwork on Fenrick's desk. We're being terminated the day after Christmas."

  Sledge looked like he had been struck with lightening. After a moment of shock he said, "No. No! That ain't right! His majesty can't get away with that."

  "He can do whatever he wants."

  "Why?! I understand firing me. I'm useless as old jism. But you. This office can't function without you. You do everything there is to do, and you're the only paralegal we got."

  "I'm not really a paralegal, I'm just a receptionist. I just do paralegal work without the pay."

  "No! What a cheapskate! I gotta' fix this!" He turned away to go see Fenrick, but Jessica grabbed him by the arm and turned the big man around.

  "No. He holds stuff over my head. I could get in big trouble. Jail even. Just let it be."

  Sledge sighed. "You, too, huh? Maybe it's better I leave here before I go back to jail for stuffing him dick first into a garbage disposal."

  Fenrick approached them. Sledge looked disgruntled, so Fenrick gave him a big charming smile. "Have you two sat with the psychic yet?" They looked blank and shook their heads no. "She is reputed to be a true psychic and very accurate. Go have a seat." Fenrick gently pushed them toward the psychic.

  "Does she tell bad news?" Jessica asked forlornly.

  "No, they never tell bad news," Fenrick replied cheerfully. "Only good. Maybe there is a good change in your future and new opportunity." Jessica gave him an acrid look.

  Sledge sat before the psychic. She studied him for a moment, then said, "I see anger in you, and uncertainty."

  "Really?" He saw she was serious. "Sucks to be me. What's in my future?"

  Christmas Future looked into her crystal ball, blinked, then waved the image away, then looked again. "I see change. But the future is uncertain. You and Fenrick locked in some kind of dance."

  "Yeah, that's about right. Thanks for the confirmation." Sledge rose and shoved Jessica onto the chair.

  Fenrick focused intensely on the globe as the psychic considered Jessica. Christmas Future studied Jessica for a full minute, then looked in the crystal ball. Finally she said, "Life brings change. It starts with pain, but it ends in a very good way. Whatever you are going through, which I can see you are, hang in there." Jessica managed a brief, weak smile.

  The Grim Reaper again appeared in the globe for Fenrick, knocked on the globe, then the lights began to flicker and dim. The Grim Reaper grew large, outside of the globe.

  Fenrick turned away and drained his glass of Champagne, then when he looked around, the room was vacant. He looked down at the floor and saw Jessica lying there, the Grim Reaper standing next to her. Fenrick rushed to her, knelt beside her, and said loudly, "Jessica wake up! Wake up! It's OK! I'll make it up to you!" He looked up and everyone was looking at him, including Jessica, who was not on the floor. A shadow of the Grim Reaper with his sickle was leaving the room.

  "Too much champagne already?" one of the lawyers asked Fenrick. "Can we get you a cab?"

  Sledge noticed the shadow and chased after it. Fenrick rushed out after the receding shadow, shouting, "Hey, wait! You have to change this. Take Charlie, he's old and useless!" The others watched, shaking their heads.

  The door opened and began to swing closed. As soon as Sledge neared the door, he hissed, "Terrel, get out of here!" The door finished swinging closed. He opened the door and stepped through, but no one was there.

  Fenrick stumbled through the door, sliding head long into the hall. He picked himself up, but saw no one but Sledge standing by the elevator. Sledge shrugged and shook his head. Fenrick rushed toward the stairs. He must have taken the stairs. He turned the Knob and pushed through with his shoulder. It pushed back, bouncing the light weight Fenrick back two steps. He turned the knob again, and hit it harder, with the same result. He was about to do it again when Sledge turned the handled and gently pushed on the door. It opened.

  "Really?" Fenrick said. On opening the stair door, Fenrick listened, but heard nothing. He tore down six floors of stairs two at a time, throwing safety to the wind. The door at the landing was marked 1. Must be First floor. He shoved through it. Dark. It wasn't the street exit. Three phantoms glided toward him. He turned for the door, but it wouldn't open. He yanked repeatedly on the handle. Nothing. "Fenrick," the phantoms beckoned. "Fenrick." He tried to calmly turn the handle all the way. It worked. Phantoms? It must have been shadows cast by car lights on the streets.

  He slammed the door and tore down another set of stairs: M. Must be Main. He flung open the door. Dark again, wrong floor. The door slipped out of his hands and closed. A judge sat at a desk at the end of the hall. He pointed at Fenrick. "Guilty," he whispered. "Guilty."

  "Of what?"

  "Failing to be human," the judge whispered.

  "Am I going to see more ghosts?"

  "You're going to be a ghost."

  Fenrick fled through the door. He raced down another set of stairs. G. Must be Ground. He paused, fearing to go in. He opened the door and felt a strong breeze, but saw no one. Again not the street floor. He turned to leave, but the door tore out of his hand and slammed shut by the breeze. Strong hands grabbed him under the arms and dragged him backward.

  "How much has he had to drink?" one asked.

  "A little."

  "Do you lay with women?"

  "Ohhhh, not often."

  "You're incapable of having fun. That's a sure sign you're a complete failure as a human being."

  Fenrick wrested away from the hands and charged the door, slipping through easily. Down he flew another flight: L. He sighed. Had to be lobby. He slammed through the door. Darkness. This couldn't be. He knew his office was on the sixth floor, and he always pushed M to get out. Was the Grim Reaper leading him to his doom?

  A group of clowns with costumes with yellow streaks looked at him. They were distorted and spiraling around him like some horror movie. "This isn't funny, you pricks."

  "We know. You can't have fun. You have no future but dullness and misery. It's all in your perspective. You can see us as fun, if you want to. But you have other priorities. God help you."

  "There is no God," Fenrick shouted at them. "No Heaven, no Hell, no nothing!"

  "No nothing? Double negative," the clown laughed maniacally. "'No nothing' won't work in court. Isn't that how you judge people?"

  "It's not a double negative!" Fenrick shouted at them.

  His world turned and spun. Drunkenly he made his way to the door, wondering how he got in this carnival of stupidity. "No God, no Heaven, no Hell, no gain from being good to others, just hokum. Get all you can get."

  He made his way down to another floor. M again. He gritted his teeth and zoomed through the door, determined this was going to be the right one. Mezzanine, said the sign by the elevator. This was right, the office was on the side of a steep hill, cut away even further by the parking garage. He knocked himself in the head with his hand for being an unobservant idiot in a panic. It made his head hurt.

  A bright light struck him and made him squint. A figure shrouded in light stood over him.

  "Who have you made happy in your life, Fenrick?"

  "I can't make anyone happy. That's up to them."

  "I can make
people happy. I'll take you away from them. No Heaven, no Hell, no Fenrick."

  "Is that supposed to make me happy, you ass?" he shouted at the figure.

  The light began to fade, but his head hurt like he had hit it with a hammer. The world came into focus and he realized he was lying down and people were looking down at him, and his forehead hurt. He looked around and realized he was back at the office Christmas party.

  "Are you OK?" Sledge asked.

  "I think so. What happened?"

  "You knocked yourself silly on the office door. You ran headfirst right into it. You've been mumbling strange things."

  "You were really out of it," another lawyer said. "Let us take you to a hospital and get yourself checked out."

  Fenrick sat up, tried to stand, and extended his hands. Others took his hands and pulled him to his feet. "I'm... OK. My head hurts, but I think I'm OK." He looked around at the others. They looked doubtful.

  "Uh, I think I'll just go home."

  Chapter 2

  Fenrick arrived in his apartment still rattled from the appearance of the Grim Reaper at the party. He went directly to his drink cabinet and poured a straight whiskey double, downed it. Coughed. Chased it with water, then refilled the glass with a double. He looked around his apartment, fearing the Grim Reaper would appear, but as normal soaked in, his heartbeat began to slow.

  He had just made a big fool of himself. How could he explain this to people at the office? They would lose confidence in him if he didn't have a good explanation. Too much champagne? Nah. Working too hard for too long. Probably. Cancun would do him good.

  He focused on the familiar surroundings, hoping to calm himself. His apartment was well appointed. Not that he cared, it was for show. Well, actually he did like it. He looked around his living room, appreciating the plush white carpet, the fine Brazilian mahogany furniture, the art. Art? Yes, he appreciated art. He had many fine pieces hung on his walls for other people to admire his wealth. Some were gifts. Art? Meh. Meaningless as curtains.

  It wasn’t that Fenrick couldn’t enjoy a good celebration or a good gift. He had many fine gift wines in his collection to prove that. And that collection was worth a lot of money.

  Gifts, wine, art - all part of business. All part of acquiring what you wanted. Give a gift, improve business. It was that simple. Gifts and celebrations were purposeful, self-serving, nothing else. Definitely not from his heart. They weren’t freely given. There were strings attached.

  Strings. Fenrick sipped his wine, reveling in having so much influence over others. He leaned back in his easy chair and began flipping one by one through channels. "Christmas story. Sappy Christmas story. Stupid Christmas story. Children's' Christmas story. Sucker Christmas story. Useless Christmas story." He fumed at the useless drivel in the name of Christmas. He ceased scanning and went to his favorite, the financial channel.

  The announcer turned to a new news story. “In a shocking move, multi-million dollar national retailer Abbots Clothing announced that they are closing their doors on January first. Twenty-five thousand retail employees will lose their jobs after Christmas. The chain president said that in these dismal financial times they did not see any way they could stop the river of red ink.”

  Fenrick crowed, “So much the merrier. Other retailers will have fewer problem surviving with Abbots out of the way. The other stores will absorb the fired workers.”

  Fenrick saw something protruding from behind a patio blind. It was disturbing the ambience of the room which had been carefully and sensibly arranged to showcase its best features. It looked like a black shoe. And the blind appeared to bulge like someone was behind it. Funny he hadn’t noticed the protrusion before. Was someone there? Not the Grim Reaper hallucination again! Someone was purposely doing this, some practical joke, and he was tiring of this charade.

  He carefully sat his wine glass on a coaster, rose, and walked to the protruding object. Expecting a person, he seized it and gave it a hearty yank. The lightweight object sailed across the room and stuck in the opposite wall. He groaned. Repair work. Angrily he yanked the object out of the wall.

  The intrusive object was a picture of his ex-wife, apparently having fallen from atop the nearby bookcase. Odd, he didn't have a cat to knock things off. Maybe there was an earthquake. He checked the door lock: locked. No intruders. He stared at the picture with disdain. Messy little strings attached to his life. Pretty eyes had sucked him right in. It had been six years since Pam had “asked” him to leave by locking the door and placing his suitcases at the edge of the sidewalk. He hardly remembered her. He should finalize the separation with a divorce. He bitterly shoved the picture into a drawer.

  The TV host began a new story. “The shocking news just keeps coming this Christmas season. The administrator for the tech stock fund Blue Whale was found dead this morning.” Fenrick sat up and paid closer attention. Blue Whale was the investment fund his club had their money in. “The fund stock average had been continually declining over recent months after suspicion that one of the portfolio’s largest companies was facing competition that would swamp them. That suspicion became reality yesterday with the announcement that Metro Software was offering a software program that left no reason for Megalithic Software to exist. Stock for Blue Whale plunged to zero at the news. “

  “What?” Fenrick jumped to his feet, slopping his wine on the white carpet, which he didn’t even notice. “That’s wrong! It’s a temporary fluctuation! It will come back tomorrow.”

  His cell phone immediately rang. “Yes,” Fenrick answered impatiently.

  “This is John Pounder. Are you watching the financial news?” he said ominously.

  “Yes, I just saw it. This is going to blow over. We’ll be back on top in a few weeks,” Fenrick blustered. Somehow a falter in his voice belied his confidence.

  “Yeah?” John challenged. “This looks like a complete bust to me. You’re director of our investment group. As the biggest investor, I’m holding you personally responsible for this.”

  “Look, stocks rise and fall. Megalithic Software has survived it all for years. There’s no loss here.”

  “How widely diversified are we?”

  “We’re… in Blue Whale. They are a diversified stock, but Megalith is their biggest company.”

  “You idiot, we’re ruined! I’m getting the rest of the investors together tomorrow. If you are smart you will fall on your sword before tomorrow morning.” As difficult as it is to hear a cell phone slam onto the cradle, Fenrick jumped from the sudden silence he heard as Fenrick broke the connection.

  Fenrick snatched the TV remote from the side table and quickly changed the channel to another news station. “Our next story is one of true friendship. When all seemed lost, and Bobby Allison had found that his friends had all turned away from him, a friend from his childhood stepped forward to offer him a kidney to save his life.”

  “Idiot. He might need that kidney, then what?” Fenrick punched the off button on his remote and the screen went blank. “I’ve got friends,” he shouted at the screen. “I’ll show you who has friends.”

  Fenrick walked into his office and sat at his computer. He logged on to his bank account. “Two-hundred-thirty-two thousand in checking, and a hundred thousand in savings. Another six-hundred thousand in securities. I’m safe no matter what happens. See?! Friends! Friends you can always count on.” Fenrick had wisely not invested much of his own money in the investment group, and he had bet against the stock, so he wouldn't lose.

  Time for some schmoozing - an expensive present should calm the waters. In the morning he would go right out and buy the investors some presents.

  QQQQQQ

  Fenrick could not find a parking space at the department store. Finally, out of impatience and frustration, he parked on a curb and hoped the police weren’t making rounds during the holiday, scaring off shoppers. He walked what seemed like six blocks through spitting sleet, to the store entrance and hurried in
side. He immediately encountered a wall of people, and every one had a kid attached. He straightened upright and groaned to himself, “Aren't they supposed to be in school?!”

  Head down, Fenrick began bulldozing his way through the crowd. Under his breath he muttered, “Look out! Stand aside!, until he reached one couple. "Quit standing in the middle of the aisle – talk somewhere else!" They gave him a dirty look and continued to stand there. "Belligerence, the mark of the budding criminal." What is wrong with me? I easily handle sticky and uncomfortable situations. Am I going to be buffaloed by a department store crowd?

  Fenrick backed up and stepped on someone's toes. "Sorry, I couldn’t help stepping on your toes," he said apologetically. Then in a loud voice he said accusingly, "Your feet are in the middle of the aisle! Step aside." The guy grudgingly moved a couple of inches. People were beginning to look his direction. He spotted the jewelry counter and then stepped around the guy and pushed through the crowd.

  He turned the corner at the end of the display only to stumble onto two women fighting over a robe, blocking the aisle. Back and forth they struggled with it, nearly tearing it. "It's mine, I saw it first!" Yelled one. "You didn't have it in your hand yet!" Yelled the other.

  Fenrick seized it in the middle with both hands. "I'm a lawyer, I'll decide." Why am I even getting involved in this?

  The two women stopped struggling for a moment, looked at him, then yelled, "You can't have it! Go away!"

  He began yanking on the garment, pulling them around the store, round and round like a merry-go-round, as he steered them toward the jewelry counter. What is happening to me? I don't lose my cool. I don't squabble like a kid over a toy. Where is my self-control?

  A guard walked up to them. "Is there a problem?"

  The women stopped struggling, then Fenrick seized it and threw it to a stack of boxes of toy trains. "Whoever gets to it first, takes it." Fenrick looked to the guard. "No trouble at all, officer. Don't you wish all problems were so easily resolved?" The officer glared at him. Fenrick had a shot at the jewelry counter and dodged through several people.

  People were standing everywhere in front of the jewelry counter. They were using numbers, and the number on the sign was 87. The number on the dispenser was 124. He looked around in exasperation. “They're having a going out of business sale at Abbots!” He said in a stage whisper. Two people hurriedly left the counter.

  Others stared at him with disdain. The sales clerks met his eyes with an icy stare.

  “Well, I’m just saying…. Besides, this is insane! You need to hire more sales clerks.”

  Another person looked at him, then said to the sales clerk, “I’ll come back later.”

  “I was just saying the truth!" Others looked at him uncomfortably.

  "Entitled prick!" Someone in the crowd said loudly. "Take your fortune to some fancy jewelry store."

  "I'm not in the top 1% yet. You don't get wealthy throwing your money away in fancy jewelry stores," Fenrick retorted.

  "Entitled prick!" Came the same reply.

  Another man pulled his jacket open, and taunted, "Wanna' buy a watch, cheapskate? Got Rolex in here, 50% off." He smiled mockingly at Fenrick.

  The sales clerk approached Fenrick. “Sir, you’re creating a disturbance.”

  Fenrick cocked his head with contempt. “Well, I’m going to buy more jewelry than all of these customers combined. And I can just as easily go somewhere else.”

  The sales clerk grimaced, then forced a smile. “Just a moment, sir, I’ll get someone to personally help you.” She picked up the store phone, then in a moment a manager appeared.

  “Can I help you, sir?” the manager asked with a fake smile that said he hated every second of this.

  “I want six very expensive watches, that would cost me twice as much in a real jewelry store, and I want them at a 30% discount.”

  The Rolex man flashed his jacket open again and pointed inside. Fenrick ignored him.

  “I’m sure we have merchandise that will please you.” The manager led him to the watch counter, and he stepped inside and began taking display watches out.

  After arranging to buy six very expensive watches, Fenrick added, “I want them delivered on Christmas day.”

  The manager began to protest, but after seeing the determined look in Fenrick’s eyes, he acquiesced. “I will deliver them personally after my kids open their presents.”

  Satisfied, Fenrick made his way through the crowd to the men’s department then grabbed ten ties, three shirts, and found a mirror. But a man was trying on ties in front of the mirror, carefully tying each one and checking its length. Fenrick waited, drumming his fingers and fidgeting, but the man was oblivious. Finally he said, "Excuse me, I'm short and in a hurry," then stepped in front of the man, and tried on the ties.

  After several attempts to see over Fenrick, the other man stepped beside him, but Fenrick stepped forward again in front of him. The two jockeyed for position in a limbo dance, then the guy nudged him out of the way with his hip, sending him into a table of wallets, spilling them across the aisle. He said, "Excuse me! I'm tall and in a hurry."

  Fenrick selected one tie, placed it around his neck to carry, and carelessly threw the rest on a table of shirts, where they slid off onto the floor.

  Fenrick looked around for the checkout counter. All he could see was long lines. He hurried to the closest one, hurrying to get in front of a mother and two kids. The mother in front and the one who joined the line in back of him, gave him a quizzical look.

  “Sorry,” he said apologetically.

  “What goes around comes around,” the mother in back replied. “Merry Christmas,” she fired at him like a death ray.

  He gave her a "whatever" shrug. "I'm in a place where people fight over Christmas presents, and full of noisy kids." He shuddered.

  “Nice tie,” the mother in front of him remarked, trying to change the subject and atmosphere.

  Two kids went scurrying by, and joined two other kids in line. The noise they were all making was unrelentingly awful. “Can’t these parents keep their kids quiet? They would get thrown off an airplane.”

  The mother in front turned to him again. “Consider where you are,” she said as if he was a moron. “What did you do with your child, stuff him in a waste basket?”

  The mother in back asked, "Where is your Christmas spirit?"

  He looked down and a child stepped from in front of his mother. He was dressed in a black hood, and as he turned, Fenrick saw the Grim Reaper. He jumped back. “Not you again!”

  The kid kicked Fenrick in the leg. His mother pulled him away. She chuckled. “Sorry for that. He fell in love with that costume at Halloween, and he wears it everywhere.”

  The kid raised his mask and gave him an “I’m going to get you,” look. Fenrick ignored him. The kid pulled his mask back down. "Remember me!" The kid said before he turned around. "You're on my naughty list."

  "Intimidation is considered assault, kid." The kid shirked away. Fenrick smiled and tried to ruffle his hair, but he ducked. "Sorry, kid, I'm a lawyer. The justice system is a horrible place. Mind your mother and stay away from it."

  The kid's mother pulled him in front of her, and turned him facing forward, away from Fenrick. She turned her head and said, "You've never had a child this age, have you."

  Josh Franklin moved slowly through the crowd, spotted Fenrick, and waved to him. The other mothers noticed and smiled at Josh. Fenrick turned his head away and pretended not to notice him.

  “That wasn’t very nice.” the mother in back of him said sourly.

  “Josh Franklin just spent two years in prison for embezzling investment funds. I don’t know him.”

  “A little good will goes a long way. This is the time of year for forgiveness and goodwill,” she admonished gently.

  “Yeah, well in the investment community it doesn’t pay to associate with people like him. It makes people suspicious.”

&nbs
p; A child in back of him asked loudly to no one in particular, “When is Santa going to get here?”

  “Patience, kid. Santa can’t be everywhere at once,” Fenrick announced impatiently to all. He looked to the other parents. “Isn't that what they teach? He has a lot of continents to cover, so patience is good. Quiet is good. Santa rewards quiet.”

  The kid in the grim reaper costume said loudly, “My daddy says Santa uses quantum physics, and he can be everywhere at any moment in time.”

  “Physicist is a more promising career than Grim Reaper."

  “He is very talented,” his mother explained proudly.

  The mother behind Fenrick looked around him at the mother in front. “You have the patience of a saint.” She looked pointedly at Fenrick.

  “I have a lot of experience working with two-year olds,” she replied in a saintly voice.

  “Have you ever seen Santa?” a child’s voice behind Fenrick yelled out demandingly to him.

  Fenrick smiled, glad for a child's question to ease the tension. “Of course. Last year his beard was full of bugs and twigs from flying over the Amazon, and he had soot and reindeer crap and snow smeared all over him, and he was hunched over with back pain from carrying all of those packages for you lovely little people, and one of his reindeer had a broken leg and they were just dragging him. It was all very ugly.”

  Women started backing away from Fenrick.

  The woman in front of him pulled her kids out of line and headed for the back of the line. “That was just mean.”

  Fenrick shook his head. "It was just a joke. Sorry! I tried hard."

  The mother in back of him asked, “Where is your kid?”

  “I keep telling you, I don’t have a kid!”

  Another woman covered her child's ears and hissed, “Pervert! You sit on Santa’s knee and you’ll be on his naughty list.” She smiled down at her four-year old.

  “Who cares about Santa?! I just want to check out!” Fenrick said in a very loud voice.

  A collective soul piercing gasp shredded the holiday atmosphere. The store became very still. Every small child, every parent, every store clerk, and every shopper looked at Fenrick with shock, amazement, and even hate. He shrugged unapologetically and stared ahead.

  Finally the woman in front of him moved to his side and pointed to the sign ahead. “Santa Claus line.”

  Fenrick’s jaw dropped. “I swear, I thought this was the checkout line.” He quickly jumped out of line, yanked the tie from his neck, tossed it onto a stack of snow globes, then ran for the door.

  Everyone laughed. "Good riddance!" One mother replied.