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ashknife · 3 years

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How the Frog Saved Christmas

Rough and unedited, but here's a little Christmas story involving some animals with less-than-moral jobs. You know, like Robin Hood. I'll have to post the other Pendelton stories later. We'll see how this holds up in writing group tonight. Story after the break.

How the Frog Saved Christmas

All about the Four Lakes, people skated upon the ice, carolers sang cheerful songs, colorful lights blinked randomly along the storefronts, light snow gently blanketed everything not trod upon, and a frog stared past his reflection at it all through the window. He drew a deep breath through his lit pipe, drawing the rich flavors of tobacco and vanilla deep into his lungs before exhaling a contented puff of smoke. This was a good morning despite the fretting happening in the middle of the room.

“What in blazes do they make bikes with? Gold? Why is everything so costly? What happened to small trinkets and clothes? You know what, that little duck is going to learn to be thankful for what he has. He’s getting a scarf!” Pendelton feathered through an M. T. Nickel catalog, scoffing at everything he laid eyes on.

“Oh, come now, Pendelton,” Thaddeu said. “The duckling is a handful, but he rarely asks for anything.”

“Yeah, well, he can’t save it up. Oh! What is this? Even scarves are expensive!” The duck groaned.

“You’ve had plenty of work lately. Surely you can spare a little bit more for Pendergrast.”

“I’m sorry, tropical vacation. You’re just going to have to wait a little while longer,” Pendelton pathetically lamented.

Thaddeus croaked amusement as he hopped to the fridge, retrieved a bag, and place that upon the table. He reached in, grabbed a danish, and placed it on a napkin next to Pendelton. The duck eyed the treat and took a sniff.

“Is that...boysenberry?” he asked.

“Indeed. They were on sale this morning, so I got several. Shall I put on coffee?”

“Please do. You are a good friend.”

Thaddeus poured fresh water into the coffee maker and had just finished scooping grounds into the filter when the door to Pendelton’s stump flew open.

“Hello, Penelope,” the frog said absent-mindedly as he remained focused on his task.

“Good morning,” Penelope replied quietly. Then, to her companion outside, “Come on, you, a danish will perk you up.”

Pendergrast solemnly marched in, his head hung low. Thaddeus studied the duckling as he flipped the coffee maker on. The boy was steadily losing his heroic effort to break down. The frog made a discontented croak as he quickly started preparing a peppermint tea. Pendelton looked to his cousin.

“Penny,” he said.

“Where to start,” she said as she gingerly closed the door.

“The toys,” Pendergrast sobbed. “They’re all gone!” Pendelton facewinged.

“Come now, Pendergrast. Just because they didn’t have what you wan--”

“No, Uncle P! All the toys are gone! Everything!”

“He speaks the truth,” Penelope said. “The shelves are empty.”

Thaddeus squinted hard at the counter. He could already hear children crying outside. The shelves were full this morning. This was too fast for panic buying. Somebody had to have taken all those toys, but as far as the frog knew, he was the only master around for hundreds of miles. Somebody was encroaching on his territory. He smirked to himself. If stealing all those toys this morning was a challenge for a master, then then it should be at least that much for the newcomer, as well. Their haste should mean easy-to-read signs of their activity.

Pendelton stuck his head out the door briefly with a confused quack. He then grabbed a washcloth and gently wiped Pendergrast’s face.

“Kids are crying around the lake. When did this happen?”

“This morning,” Penelope said. She placed a ripped piece of cloth on the table. On it was a crudely stitched “K.” “This was left in the store.”

“Any ideas?”

“Of course I do, Pendy. I’m a monster hunter, after all. It belongs to Krampus.”

Pendelton nodded as he brought two danishes out of the bag and set them before Pendegrast. Thaddeus placed a hot mug of peppermint tea next to the treats.

“Boysonberry,” Pendelton told the duckling. “Eat up, kiddo. We’ll figure this out, don’t you worry.”

“Thank you, Uncle P and Uncle T,” Pendergrast said as he slowly picked at the pastries before deciding they were indeed okay and ate them in earnest. Thaddeus put out his pipe, grabbed his coat, and headed to the door.

“If you’ll excuse me, I have some, uh, errands to run.” Penelope and Pendelton regarded him with serious looks. He simply nodded as he scratched a mark on the wall. The other two nodded before they turned to the broken-hearted duckling.

----------

The warehouse was nearly overflowing with toys. There was barely room for his bar and easy chair, but that was room enough. There was plenty to drink and eat as he celebrated his victory. It had been far too long since Krampus put the cramp in Christmas. The wailing of the children and the lamentations of their parents was simply the most heartwarming music his soul could take in. He shed a tear at the beauty of it all.

Once he had his fill of food, drink, and general revelry, he’d likely grow bored of all the toys he stole today. To seal his victory and make for one heck of a send-off, he planned to douse everything in gasoline and light it all up on fire. There was something romantic about a roaring fire on a cold winter’s night, after all.

To start off the night’s festivities, Krampus mixed himself a gin tonic and brought out bread, cheese, salami, pickles, and mustard. Sandwiches were wonderfully uncomplicated, easy to assemble, and delicious. Quickly, he layered slices of ingredients into a couple of generous sandwiches and garnished them with the pickles. He could already taste the spicy flavors, but first, he needed to lube his gullet with the drink. He reached for the gin tonic.

Something wasn’t right. He reached for it again, and then he extended his arm as far it could reach while flailing his hand around trying to find it. He looked at where he placed it. It was gone. Krampus looked around. Surely he didn’t already drink it and forgot where he placed the cup. That was not the first time it happened, but he was certain he hadn’t drunk anything yet. He slapped his face a few times and shook it. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. This was not a time to panic over some random shenanigan. This was a time to party.

After calming himself, he opened his eyes...to find his drinking glass, which was empty. He grunted in confusion as he picked it up and studied it closely. He sniffed it. Yep, it had gin in it alright, but what happened to the drink? Maybe that jerk ghost from the past wanted to haunt him today. Well, we’ll see about that. He mixed himself another gin tonic and downed it before anyone could get to it. Now, for those…

The sandwiches were gone. Not even a crumb remained. Krampus looked up from his bar and eyed the stuffed warehouse around him. What in blazes was going on around here? Maybe the gin was already too much and he needed something to eat. He looked down at the bar. The sandwich ingredients were now missing.

“Who’s there?” he demanded. A single croak emitted from an aisle of toys next to the bar. Krampus stomped over to the shelf and tore through its contents. He wasn’t sure if it was some thief or prankster or what, but whoever was here was cramping his style something fierce, and they needed to be taught a harsh lesson. Perhaps after that lesson, or even during it, he’d drown his sorrow in the rare 40-year-old whiskey he stumbled upon this morning. Oh, how sad that interloper would be to watch Krampus drink something so good and precious. If only he could find the jerk, though.

A bottle behind the bar fell to the floor, causing Krampus to jump and hit his head on the shelf above. He cursed as he caressed the point of impact and pulled himself out. He turned and eyed the bar for the intruder. Finding nothing, he looked back at the aisle and found it completely empty.

His jaw dropped. Whoever was doing this was good. In fact, they may even be better than him. He glanced at the other shelves in the warehouse. It took him all morning to gather this loot. The mystery thief was good, and they may have gotten an entire aisle bagged up somewhere, but surely the entire warehouse was still beyond their capabilities. Let’s be realistic. Even supernatural creatures like himself had their limits.

He returned to the bar and took a swig of gin. He could celebrate in a more comfy place. It was time to burn this joint to the ground. He set the bottle down and headed for the stash of gasoline cans...which were now missing. He cursed again, and just as quickly he quieted down when he realized his words now echoed through the room. There was no way possible, and yet a small pit of dread forming in his stomach knew otherwise. He turned around.

The entire warehouse was empty except for his comfy chair, his makeshift bar, and a single aisle of shelves. The shelves were also empty except for one thing: a frog gingerly placing the last toy into a sack as he stared smugly at Krampus and croaked an amused smirk.

“How?” Krampus asked.

“I just thought of the children,” the frog replied. “You might want to drink up. The weather is looking rather foul.” In a small puff of smoke, he suddenly disappeared, leaving Krampus alone.

Not sure of why, Krampus heeded those instructions and reached for the 40-year-old whiskey bottle. He sighed in relief: it really was the whiskey this time. He laughed to himself. The frog didn’t ruin everything. With a firm grip on the bottle, he prepared ice in his drinking glass with the other hand. He then set the bottle on the counter so he could open it. He gasped. Somehow the frog stole the bottle of good whiskey out of his clenched fist and replaced it with a bottle of cheap whiskey without him knowing it. He looked at the assorted bottles of liquor on the bar. The frog took all the good liquor and left the cheap stuff behind. His foe was a frog of refined taste. Krampus slumped in defeat.

The front doors to the warehouse flew open. Painted on them was some strange symbol, probably some act of vandalism the frog did. The symbol seemed to have drawn the attention of two new intruders: a pair of ducks in matching boots and bowler hats, one set orange and the other blue. They emanated the unmistakable aura of murder.

“Foul weather indeed,” he said as he uncorked the whiskey bottle and drank up. It was going to be a long, hard night after all.

----------

“Wheeeeee!!”

Muffled cries of excitement pierced the walls of the stump to interrupt the peace of Pendelton’s home, but for this morning it was a comforting sound. Thaddeus contentedly smoked his pipe as Pendelton and Penelope worked on the holiday feast. That is not to say the frog was simply freeloading. A crash followed by some goofy laughter prompted him to hop out of his chair. He held up one to Pendelton, halting the duck’s charge to reprimand the duckling.

“I got this one,” Thaddeus said. Pendelton nodded and returned to cooking the yams.

The frog threw on his scarf, coat, and captain’s hat and stepped outside into the gently blanketed lakeside. A bright, golden bike lay on its side. Attached to the bike like a set of training wheels were a pair of waxed slats. It lay on its side like some kind of strange roadkill while the proud, new owner of the bike lay on his side giggling at his misfortune.

“Pendergrast!” Thaddeus called out. The duckling jumped up and flew to the frog.

“Hi, Uncle T! Thank you so much for putting the bike together! It’s so much fun!”

“I see you are putting it to capital use, lad. Good on you. Just do me a favor, will you?”

“Yes?”

“Be careful with it, will you? It was hard work finding it and putting it together.”

“Oh, yeah. It might break, huh?”

“Yes, it might.”

“Okay, Uncle T. I’ll be more careful. Hey, did you see the scarf Uncle P gave me?” Pendergrast held out one end of a soft burgundy scarf with golden highlights.

“A wonderful scarf, if I do say so myself. It goes with the bike he gave you.” The boy nodded excitedly.

“I’m going to play some more, okay? I’ll be more careful.”

“There’s a good lad. The meal will be ready soon.”

“Yay! I hope there’s cranberry sauce!” Pendergrast hummed a carol as he scrambled over the ice to his beloved present.

Thaddeus shuddered. That was one cramp in Christmas he couldn’t fix.

#writing #pendelton of the four lakes #pendelton #pendergrast #thaddeus james worthington xxxv #assassin ducks #thief frog #penelope

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