The Fat Man_ A Tale of North Pole Noir - Ken Harmon [42]
“Keep throwing those ornaments, Ding,” I hollered. “And keep making him climb. Just watch that big hand of his.”
“Roger,” Dingleberry said. “Bogey is padlocked and I’m kicking up to warp one for a knife fight in a phone booth with fangs out, over.”
“Dingleberry, why are you talking like that?”
“In issue 988 of By George Adventures—Mangy Dogfight, George joined Captain Billy ‘Souptooth’ Cigar’s air squadron and he talked like that,” Dingleberry said. “I’ve always wanted to say that.”
Tannenbomb continued to climb and Rosebud seemed to scream louder for every foot he made it up the tree, but, from my point of view, things were going according to Hoyle. The higher Tannenbomb got, the more the big balsam shook. Decorations were starting to rattle off and all the noise and the mess was putting bats in the big nutcracker’s belfry. When he slapped the angel off the top and grabbed the roof of the tree, I knew we had him. Me and Dingle went around in a wide circle, flinging ornaments and blowing raspberries. Tannenbomb roared like a grizzly and thrashed the air like an unhinged windmill. Rosebud held on for dear life, her lungs raw. The breaking point wouldn’t be long in coming.
About the time I finished that thought, Tannenbomb let go of the tree and lunged at Dingleberry, missing him completely. Tannenbomb hung in the air for a brief second, in a lather that he missed the little elf-fly again, but then he realized that his world wasn’t as solid as it used to be. He quickly turned to Rosebud, looking at her for what he knew would be the last time. It would have been sweet had it not been so ridiculous. Then, Tannenbomb simply gave up and let gravity take over. He shot to the earth like a lame comet, ornaments and tinsel and branches exploding in his wake. Rosebud had enough wits about her to let go and, when she did, I swooped in like one of those guys in a cape and caught her midair. I was feeling pretty good about my heroics, but Rosebud gave me a cold slap of krypton. “Remind me to get you a watch, Coal. What took you so long?”
“Timber!” Dingleberry yelled, happy as a clam.
When Tannenbomb hit the ground it sounded like a couple of bowling alleys having a fender bender. Wooden arms and legs snapped with a boom, the logs crashing into each other so hard you could feel it in your teeth. Tannenbomb’s mouth lever cracked and bounced across the floor, causing his mighty jaw to fall slack and harmless. He was dead.
Rosebud, Dingleberry and I landed beside the heap and stared at Tannenbomb, all stumps and splinters. “Welcome to the Termite Buffet,” Rosebud said.
“Getting rid of Tannenbomb ought to help your case with Santa, Gumdrop,” Dingleberry said to me. “He’s been causing Kringle Town trouble for years!”
“The only thing that’s going to get me out of Dutch with Nick is proving that I didn’t kill Hall,” I said. “So let’s go see if Candy Cane can help me.”
“You know what’s funny?” Rosebud asked. “All that racket right outside his door and not a peep from Cane.”
“What do you think it means?”
Rosebud started moving as she answered. “I think it means we better open this door.”
CHAPTER 17
A Long Winter’s Nap
Even for an elf who’s helped load the sleigh on Christmas Eve, the amount of toys crammed into Charles “Candy” Cane’s mansion made my mouth drop open. Xanadu was a tall canyon of a joint, big enough to have a bus line. And almost every inch of it was taken up with toys. Games, dolls, balls, trucks and bikes were stacked floor to ceiling, three stories high. Stuffed animals of every breed clung to small cliffs on the toy mountain like avalanche survivors. A trail about three hairs wide trickled between the great walls of toys. It was dark and didn’t look safe, but from the other end we heard the wheeze of someone measuring