Merry Christmas: Beguile

NOTE: This is a repost, this was originally posted on June 25 (half-Christmas).

Beguile- to influence or persuade by means of deception

Ex: The smooth-talking chimney sweep beguiled Jack into giving him round-the-clock access to his chimney shaft. In the early morning hours of Christmas Eve a few months later, Jack was dozing off on a couch next to the fireplace, feeling the effects of the couple of pint glasses of eggnog that he had downed throughout the evening. Jack was startled awake by a thunderous crashing sound as he opened his eyes and saw a fat, white-bearded man in a red jumpsuit dusting ash off of himself in front of the hearth. Jack immediately jumped to attention, reaching quickly for a wrought iron fireplace poker to defend himself from this unwelcomed intruder. Stabbing the poker out like a boxer prodding with a jab to keep his range, Jack yelled, “I knew I was a fool to accept your deal! What kind of chimney sweep needs 24/7 access to a chimney?! You can’t just work during regular hours? And regardless, that job was completed long ago, this deal’s been off the books for months now! Don’t you have a family to be with tonight?”

The jolly old intruder threw his hands up to protest his innocence,

“Jack, it’s me. Don’t you realize? The long red stocking cap? The bulging stomach? The velour jumper? I’m Santa, Jack! I have no idea what you’re talking about! Chimney sweep? I’m not a chimney sweep, I’m Saint Nick!”

Jack wasn’t buying this for one second.

“Yea, yea, convenient story. I know your tricks and schemes you fucking sleazeball! If you don’t get the hell out of here in five seconds I’m calling the police!”

The fat man took a step back and looked over his left shoulder at a plate of warm cookies and milk sitting on the kitchen counter.

“Listen, Jack. I am Santa. I can show you my sleigh outside if you really need any further proof. Now please, calm down. I’m just going to grab myself a cookie over here, then I’ll unload my presents, and I’ll be off into the night.”

Jack stepped forward and held the poker up to the man’s neck,

“Don’t you DARE make a move towards those cookies, motherfucker. I’ll put this thing through your throat if you don’t scramble back up that chimney and out of my house RIGHT NOW!”

The man took a second to weigh his options, breathed in deeply, and then exhaled. He made a jab step towards the chimney and then spun around with remarkable agility for a man of his mass and bolted towards the kitchen. He had just got his hands on one of the cookies when Jack plunged the metal lance six inches deep into his shoulder blade. The intruder let out a wail as he crumbled to the floor. Jack stood over him and looked down upon him without remorse. He slid the poker out of his back, releasing a stream of blood the same deep shade of red as his Santa costume. Jack lifted the poker up and brought it down with great force, sinking it into the man’s gut. He let out one final yelp as the life drained from his eyes. Jack took a seat on the floor with his back resting on the white, now white and red speckled, cabinets. His heart was pounding. Between exasperated breaths he let out the words, “Next…time…I’ll…just…call…Sootbegone^TM Sweepers…instead.”

Jack’s children sprinted downstairs to check out the cause of all of this commotion. As their eyes met the gruesome scene that lay before them, they burst into tears.

“Daddy, did you kill Santa?”

Offered up the younger of the two between sobs.

Jack, finally realizing that his suspicions maybe, just maybe, may have been unfounded, opened his mouth to respond to his daughter. Before he could get any words out he spotted a light flicker coming through the window. Jack rose from his position, walked over to the window, and put his face to the glass. Sitting in his driveway were 9 reindeer in a circle passing around a zippo lighter to spark the cigarettes that were dangling out of each of their furry snouts. One of the reindeer with a bright red nose lifted his hoof to check the time on a Rolex that was wrapped around his ankle. Jack could faintly hear the words, “It’s been a while, should we check up on him? We’re behind schedule. We may have to skip over a few families over on that side of town, if you know what I mean” through the double-paned glass.