Friday, December 20, 2013

Friday Flash Fiction: Bunny And Fat Man

Every Friday Kurt posts a new piece of flash fiction. This week...

Bunny And Fat Man
Word Count: 600

I should have realized that those cookies tasted funny.

A light comes on in the room, although it’s dulled by the dark pillowcase over my head. Feels like I’ve been tied up for hours. Who knows? Maybe I have. And ain’t that a son-of-a-bitch if I have. Lotta kids are gonna be upset.

“He’s coming around,” says a woman’s voice—deep, sultry and familiar, although I can’t place it.

“Who’s there?” I ask.

“Hush, now, Kringle,” says the dame, “I’m asking the questions. How’s your schedule look?”

“How long have I been out?” I ask.

“Three minutes,” says the dame.

“I can’t spare more than another seven,” I say.

“Then I’ll talk fast,” she says. “I have demands, and I’m going to hold you here until you agree to my terms.”

“I guess I don’t have a choice,” I say.

“I guess not.”

“What do you want?” I ask.

“A colleague of yours is sick of being in your shadow,” she says.

“Who?” I ask. “Rudolph? Lord knows that kid gets as much press as I do.”

“No,” says the dame, “not Rudolph.”

“Well, who is it?”

“This fella operates in the spring time,” she says.

And then, all at once, I recognize the voice. “Bunny…” I say.

The pillowcase comes sliding off my head and there she is. Three-foot-eight with legs that could kick a hole in the wall, floppy ears, and a fluffy white tail. “Been a while, Kris,” she says.

“You’ve been a very naughty girl,” I tell her.

“I guess you’ll just have to keep your hands off my stockings,” she says.

“How’s that brother of yours?” I ask.

“He’s tired of playing second banana to a fat man in a red suit,” she says, leaning over, getting right in my face. She smells like wood chips and lavender. “He’s paid his dues. He’s done the overnight deliveries and the mall photos. And now he wants a taste of the real action.”

“Is that so?” I ask.

“Yeah,” she says. “You’ve been hogging the spotlight for too long.”

“Is it my fault the children love me?” I ask her.

She sticks a finger in my chest. “They’ll love you a lot less if you miss half their houses this year.”

“You can’t do this,” I say. “People look forward to Christmas year-round.”

“Well, maybe they can look forward to Easter just as much,” she says.

“I’m sure they would,” I say, “if they could figure out when it’s going to be.”

Bunny fumes. “Sunday after the first full moon of Spring. Is it that hard to remember?”

“For children?” I ask.

“Agh!” screams Bunny. “It ain’t his fault he’s tied to a lunar calendar!”

“It ain’t mine either,” I say.

“Yeah, well, what say we level the playing field?”

“Hold on, hold on,” I say. “I’d love to help, but there’s not much I can do. I’m in the middle of my run. Have him set up an appointment with me in February. Maybe we can cross-promote.”

“He tried that,” says Bunny. “You gave him the run-around for weeks.”

“I’m a busy man.”

“And it’s a pain in the tail to get to your office,” says Bunny.

“Look,” I say, “there are opportunities he isn’t exploring. He’s got a built-in countdown leading up to Easter and it’s longer than Advent. Where are the chocolate calendars?”

“You can’t give out sweets during Lent,” says Bunny.

“Well what does he want. Name it.”

“Easter Carols.”

We look at each other for a moment.

“Done,” I say. “Now untie me.”

Edited by Carolyn "Creepy. It's Fine. But Creepy." Abram.

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