Reindeer Games (2)
Dec. 5th, 2011 09:23 pmWow, everything really *is* on YouTube.
I crashed in my bed. By the time I woke up it was noon – still dark outside, but the clock doesn't lie. I got in the shower with my vest on, ate some sorbet out of the freezer, combed out my mustache and goatee, grabbed my bowler and umbrella and old Air Force sidearm, and hit Christmastown on my way to the hoosegow.
I threaded my way through the decorated Yule trees and came to The Abominable Snowman's cave. He had put bars across it and made it into the local jail a few years back. He wasn't a bad sort, I guess, although he did give legit snowmen a bad name. You never got the sense that he had completely abandoned being wild, though. And he hated being called 'Bumble', even though almost everybody did behind his back.
He was lurking just inside the shadows of the barred cave, his faintly glowing eyes visible in the darkness. "How's the bad-guy-catching business, A-Bomb?" I asked him. He didn't mind the odd nickname, except for 'Bumble'. He grinned in the darkness, a beautiful pearly set of dentures having replaced the fangs that had all been yanked out of his mouth years earlier.
"Sam Snowman," he said in his deep raspy voice. "You stayin' out of trouble?"
"Trying. Failing," I said. "I hear you got a new guest. Santa hired me to see if I could help him."
"No helping this one," Abominable Snowman said. "I got him dead to rights."
"Sure," I said. "Mind if I ask him a few questions?"
"Suit yourself," said the jailer, raising the cave-portcullis and beckoning me in.
( Read more... )
I crashed in my bed. By the time I woke up it was noon – still dark outside, but the clock doesn't lie. I got in the shower with my vest on, ate some sorbet out of the freezer, combed out my mustache and goatee, grabbed my bowler and umbrella and old Air Force sidearm, and hit Christmastown on my way to the hoosegow.
I threaded my way through the decorated Yule trees and came to The Abominable Snowman's cave. He had put bars across it and made it into the local jail a few years back. He wasn't a bad sort, I guess, although he did give legit snowmen a bad name. You never got the sense that he had completely abandoned being wild, though. And he hated being called 'Bumble', even though almost everybody did behind his back.
He was lurking just inside the shadows of the barred cave, his faintly glowing eyes visible in the darkness. "How's the bad-guy-catching business, A-Bomb?" I asked him. He didn't mind the odd nickname, except for 'Bumble'. He grinned in the darkness, a beautiful pearly set of dentures having replaced the fangs that had all been yanked out of his mouth years earlier.
"Sam Snowman," he said in his deep raspy voice. "You stayin' out of trouble?"
"Trying. Failing," I said. "I hear you got a new guest. Santa hired me to see if I could help him."
"No helping this one," Abominable Snowman said. "I got him dead to rights."
"Sure," I said. "Mind if I ask him a few questions?"
"Suit yourself," said the jailer, raising the cave-portcullis and beckoning me in.
( Read more... )