Phrase Writers Group

At every Phrase Writers meeting we are given (optional) homework, a subject or phrase to inspire a story or poem.

This week's subject -- Crime doesn't pay

Friends donated their (first) names

A CHRISTMAS CRIME

“And there’s another thing”.

Father Christmas inwardly sighed. He deeply loved his other half, Mrs Christmas, and they were a great double act when it came to the business of Christmas. But whenever supper started with the fearful phrase “I have a small matter to discuss”, he knew it would be a long silent night for him. His favourite Steak & Ale pie had long congealed into an inedible blob, and the healthy salad leaves had wilted somewhat.

“But Lou dear...”

“Don’t you ‘But Lou’ me, Les Christmas. I’m your Commander-in-Chief, and don’t you forget it.

“Now Les, I have a crime to discuss with you”.

“Crime?” said an astonished Father Christmas.

“Do listen. Yes a crime, and you’re the culprit. Tonight is the night before Christmas Eve, when you deliver presents to Polish and German families around the world. So they can open their gifts on Christmas Eve. Thankfully the Poles don’t leave food and drink for you and the reindeer. But the Germans do”.

Father Christmas was still hungry from his suspended supper. He had merry memories of the teutonic treats in previous years. Cheese and meat fondue, a delicious bread coated with icing sugar and stuffed with fruits and marzipan called Christstollen, and a glorious Christmas punch.

He’d eaten enough for all the Father Christmases in the stores around the world, and drank sufficient to float behind the sleigh. Thank Christmas for his magic potion, that kept him sober and sprightly. His only secret from his wife Lou.

“The crime of the century is your magic elixir” said Lou. “You think it keeps off the poundage from all your eating during the sleigh rides. And our party on Christmas Day. But where do you think all those calories go?”

“Well er...” started Les.

“Me, that’s where” said Lou. “Every ounce, solid and liquid, ends up inside my petite frame. Takes me 12 months to lose it all, and then it’s the night before Christmas Eve and back on it goes”.

“On and on it goes indeed” thought Les.

“But you look the same gorgeous Lou to me” he said, getting more puzzled by the minute.

“I have my own magic”, said Lou. “A multitude of mirrors, everywhere on the walls, floors, ceiling and outside. So I look slim.

“You commit the crime, taking the magic potion while stuffing yourself all over the world. I’m the one being punished. Well, no more. Tonight you are leaving the food and drink alone. I’ve made you a healthy packed lunch”.

Les’s gloomy face perked up. He looked inside his lunch box. Raw sprouts and carrots.

“Lovely Lou, is this for the reindeer?”

“No it’s yours. The reindeer fly around the world, so they work off all their treats. Now go and see Brian, your sleigh elf, to check everything is ready for take off tonight”.

“Yes dear”.

* * * * *

Les relied on Brian for everything sleigh-related. He normally kept a bag of stollen, the German fruit and marzipan bread that Brian so loved, plus a sealed flagon of warm punch. Les related Lou’s instructions for tonight’s sleigh ride.

Brian cupped his chin in one hand, and scratched his head with the other.

“There’s a way round this Father” said the inventive elf. “To recap, Mrs Christmas said the reindeer stay fit by their flying. So you need to do the same”.

Brian saw his boss’s baffled bonce.

“Here’s something I’ve been working on. The reindeer struggle when flying upwards, like up a mountain, or back up the chimney when you’ve delivered the presents. So I’ve installed some pedals linked to propellors, so you can help them”.

“Wow”, said Father Christmas. “But my legs will triple in size with all that pedalling”.

“True”, said Brian. “So here’s another pair of pedals, for your arms. So when your legs are tired, your arms can take over”.

Les beamed. “Brian, you’ve earned your treats and then some. I can enjoy the German gastronomic goodies, and return fitter with barely an extra pound”.

“There’s still the issue of drinking all that sherry. German beer is also rather powerful” said Brian. “I have something to help there. Maybe have the occasional tipple. I’ve fitted an afterburner on the sleigh, for when you and the reindeer want a quick kip. It’s powered by alcohol.

“Now the cheese and meat fondue sounds delicious” Brian continued. “But you could leave some stollen with the Polish families”.

“Tell me more” said Les.

“The Poles enjoy a vegetarian meal with 12 dishes on Christmas Eve. But they set an extra place, for anyone in need. After all, food tastes better when shared. The stollen would be a welcome festive thrill”.

“Excellent idea” said Les. “Well the presents are loaded, reindeer raring to go, and I don’t need any magic potion. See you when I get back. Thanks Brian, you’ve made Christmas again for so many”.

* * * * *

Father Christmas and his reindeer were back hours before the noon sunrise, after their usual busy night’s work. Les had worked off all the booze, fondue and marzipan bread with the pedalling. Giving bread and beer to the Polish families had helped too.

Brian greeted Les.

“Father, I’m so glad to see you. You’re looking great. Maybe wipe the last vestiges of meat and cheese off your cheery visage”.

Les grinned and complied.

“How is Lou?” he asked.

Brian looked troubled. Les patted him on the shoulder.

“OK, I’ll go and talk to her”.

While Brian unhitched the reindeer and gave the sleigh its 30 million mile service, Les went to find his wife.

Lou was sitting sadly in the now empty present packing place. She was at least twice her former size. Surrounded by wrappers, chocolate-smeared lips and a sea of mince pie crumbs.

“I get lonely when you’re gone”.

“I want my lovely Lou back”.

Les wrapped his wife in a warm Christmas hug.

“Ahem”.

Les looked up. Brian had had time for the full 75 million mile service the sleigh needed after the Christmas Eve delivery.

“Lou, meet Brian your cousin. Brian is a wealth of inventive solutions. I pedalled round the world with my legs and arms, and worked off all the lovely treats. Any suggestions?”

Brian brainstormed.

“Mrs Christmas...”

“Call me Lou. After all we are cousins”.

“Lou, the younger elves feel lonely too. Busy busy busy making and wrapping presents. Then an empty room and Christmas magic disappears with the sleigh.

“Tonight is Christmas Eve, and your husband will be pedalling round the world again. Why don’t we, you and I, have a party with the elves? Play games, drink eggnog-lite, sing carols, tell stories. Maybe a short snooze or three. Oh, and here’s some magic potion to undo your sadness”.

Lou smiled.

“Just this once. Thank you cousin Brian, a prime suggestion. All this time I was telling myself that crime doesn’t pay. When it’s really Prime Cousin Day”.