The Fat Man_ A Tale of North Pole Noir - Ken Harmon [72]
From the mouth of babes. As much it hurt, the kid was right. Looking at the square below, Kringle Town was as full of fear, confusion and anger as Pottersville ever hoped to be. The whole world was getting that way no matter how hard I wanted to push it back. I suddenly felt as empty as a forgotten cup in the desert. “Why?”
“Because you get more done with mercy,” the kid said. “See, Gumdrop, when all you see is the bad, it is only natural to want to set things right, to make something just. But if you do that, what use then is the Child? We need the Child because none of us are worthy, none of us are really Nice, so there is His mercy. To need His mercy—and get it—is the greatest gift we’ve ever been given. His mercy, His love is what makes things right, not justice. Love. He came here on that starry night so long ago to give us the gift of mercy and love so that we could share it with each other, like so many Santa Clauses. Even though we should all be doomed to the Naughty List forever, His love erases our name from that list and there is no need for coal or justice. It’s nothing we do. Pottersville is full of folks who have settled scores, but when you keep score, you never stay ahead for long. But if we really accept the Child’s mercy, we truly change. The Child wants us to unwrap the gift of mercy every day and pass it on to others—especially to those who don’t deserve it because that’s all of us, Gumdrop. That’s why the Child came. I said it before and I’ll say it again, that’s what Christmas is all about, Charlie Brown.”
And that was all I needed to hear from the peanut gallery. There was something in my eye and it took me a minute to get rid of it, and when I did, the kid was gone, vanished into thin air. But that didn’t matter.
It was time to do some good for goodness’ sake.
CHAPTER 28
The New Old-Fashioned Way
Take it from me, brother, your guardian angel is always just around the corner. Especially when you’re heeling the wrong side of the street.
—G. B., By George Adventures, issue 359, Lassoing Lava Lizards
Back when I was a kid grunting through Black Pete’s elf boot camp, I would curse the little general because I couldn’t figure we’d ever need all his training. We were going to be toy makers, so why was Black Pete constantly drilling us with flight training and weights and leaving us out in the cold for nights on end? As I soared toward the Misfit balloon, I knew why. When I finally caught the towrope at the end of the balloon, I knew was going to need every muscle I had and then some.
The hole in the side of the balloon was now bigger and causing the dirigible to whip and slash across the sky even faster. I could hear the Misfits screaming, trying to hold on, as their ship spun out of control. The rope I held was getting the worst end of the deal, whipping me back and forth across the sky, but I held on for dear life. Letting go meant an out-of-control flight into the wild blue yonder that no amount of elf flight school could help. In the back of my head, I could hear Black Pete screaming at me to hold on as I inched my way up to the lip of the Crocodile Cobra. When I got to the top, Zsa Zsa had other ideas.
Standing on the edge of the mouth and not one bit afraid of falling to her doom, Zsa Zsa put a boot on my fingers as I tried to hang on to the cobra’s lip. “Vell, my vittle Gumdrop,” she said with a sneer. “I alvays knew you’d come back to me.”
“It’s strictly a business call, Zsa Zsa dear,” I said carefully. “Now, give me a hand and let’s talk this thing out nice and easy.”
“No, my vittle Gumdrop, I think I prefer that you die with all the zee rest of us Misfits,” Zsa Zsa said. “I think that would be only fitting, ya? For even as an elf, you are a Misfit too. Vee should all go down together!”
A bunch of Misfits were holding Dingleberry prisoner, and he looked scared to death.