Brown Socks

This story is a part of the Spec the Halls contest for speculative winter holiday-themed fiction, artwork, and poetry. You may find descriptions of and links to other entries at http://www.aswiebe.com/specthehalls.html

It was Christmas morning when I decided to kill Santa. He brought me socks again, you see. And they’re brown socks, as if being socks isn’t bad enough already. My sister got exactly what she wanted - a Barbie doll with a pink corvette. Yes, she stuck it in my face before the wrapping was all of the way off. “See what I got from Santa?,” she said. “What did you get, Brian? Huh? What did you get, huh, huh?” I held up my brown socks. The pink corvette flew by them like an airplane. Left behind in its exhaust were my brown, ugly ass socks.

Mom and Dad say I shouldn’t say such words. Profanity is not fitting for an 8 year old boy, my mom says. Neither is murder, I’d assume. But you can bet your ass I’ll kill that damn Santa for bringing me those ugly brown socks.

A burning rage welled up in me that morning. All day I thought and dreamed about the death of Santa. I planned my strategy, plotted the murder. My first instinct was to stab him. His bleeding skin would match nicely with his red suit and his reindeer’s red nose. But that would be too messy. Mom would get mad if I got blood on the carpet. So then I thought Santa should eat a bullet. Dad had taught me to fire his shotgun a year ago. I could stick the shotgun up the chimney as Santa’s coming down, then light the fireplace to destroy the evidence.

Perfect. At Santa’s ninth hour. I’d sleep on the couch, handy shotgun by my side and listen for his sleigh on the roof. Surely his jolly self would startle me awake. But what if my aim was bad? Or worse yet, what if he armed himself? You couldn’t be too careful sneaking into strangers houses in the middle of the night. I needed a backup plan. Then it hit me. Rat poison in the cookies. Mom always had a box of D-con lying about somewhere. I could stick a few of those green pellets in the middle of some Oreo cookies. And if Santa pulled a gun on me, I could lull him to his fateful death with milk and cookies.

The year flew by. Soon it was Christmas Eve of the following year. Sleepily waiting on the couch, I was startled by every noise. I checked three times to see if I’d loaded the gun, which I had. The night progressed, and the noises continued. “Probably mice,” I thought aloud as I looked at the cookies on the table beside me. I’d taken all their D-con.

Another bump, and my heart raced. I heard footsteps on the stairs.

“Brian, what are you doing up?!” My mom’s words echoed off the walls and I worried she’s scare away Santa. I jumped up, the gun toppling off my lap.

“I was hungry,” I quickly lied, and she noticed the rifle. Her mouth opened wide. “I was scared of burglars,” I said.

Just then Santa started down the stairs, which were nowhere near the chimney, and he said to my mother in a voice much like Dad’s, “What’s he doing up?”

“Hold it right there!” I raised the gun, pointing it towards his head. Dropping his bag of presents, his mouth dropped open. When it did, his beard began falling off.

“Brian, it’s me. It’s your dad. Put the gun down!” He pulled the beard all the way off, and his red hat off his head. What my father was doing in a Santa costume I’ll never know, but sure enough, it was him.

I put the gun down, as my mother muttered again and again, “You’re in so much trouble.”

Dad came over and unloaded the gun, then grabbed me by the shoulders. “What were you thinking!” he yelled, bullets in his palm. I was utterly humiliated. I looked to the presents that had fallen down the stairs. Brown socks peeked out of an opened box that had my name on it. “What do you have to say for yourself?” Dad was asking.

“Dad,” I said sincerely, and waited.

“Yes son?”

“Have a cookie.”

Police Thief Still Chief

Questions linger about local charity and Chief's webbed feet...

For most people in Broken Springs, Christmas means many things. It’s the time of year to spread holiday cheer, or at least refrain from killing those who almost run you down at Walmart. It’s a time of giving instead of not giving a damn, and it’s a time when every house has a surplus of chocolate and sugar coated candies, usually stuffed in tiny stockings and given as last minute gifts. But for many in our fair city, Christmas is also a time to donate to a local well known charity run by a local well known ordinary Joe, only his name ain’t Joe and it turns out he ain‘t so ordinary. The charity is Operation Christmas Care Bear and the Ordinary Joe is Police Chief Jim Kingston.

Unfortunately for those few generous Broken Springers with an IQ in the triple digits, if their charitable donation to Operation Christmas Care Bear is just a ploy for a tax deduction during America’s second favorite holiday, Tax Day, the news that everyone’s favorite charity isn’t legal might come as a shock, especially if you file long form. But reality is often stranger than fiction, even clever satirical fiction dreamt up by a local Gonzo wannabe.

Just why isn’t Christmas Care Bear registered with the state of Michigan as a legal charity? According to Kingston’s unbiased pro-bono (and anti-Cher) lawyer, Bill Marcus, the charity is in the process of registration that has so far taken approximately twenty years. “We had our information on file when Lansing introduced their new state of the art Commodore 64 computer system. Then we were requested to resend our tax information so they could transfer it to 5 ½ inch floppy disk. Next thing you know, they were using 3 inch hard floppies, then CDs and now they’re asking us to send in either a flash drive or a link to our myspace profile,” explains Marcus. “Jim’s charity has always been very informal because no Broken County employee above the age of 16 can even type using all their fingers, let alone set up a myspace profile. So the process of registration has been a lengthy one.”

Others in the community question the ethical code of a Police Chief who’s gotten his hand caught a few too many times in the cookie jar. “I’m not saying he’s a thief but he’s tried to cash checks that were not his to cash,” says Broken Springs village leader Robert Boob. “Then there was that one time all that Senior Bingo money came up missing and Jim’s department came up empty in their investigation. But come on, where’d he get that new Corvette?

Kingston defenders insist it was a Pinto and not a Corvette.

“I’m just saying, if it talks like a duck and it walks like a duck, then it damn sure ain’t no chicken,” summed up Kingston‘s loudest critic. When asked if he was calling the Chief a duck, Boob answered, “If the quack fits.”

Chief Mallard could not be reached for comment.

Whether or not Christmas Care Bear gets registered, one thing is for certain. Chief Kingston could sure use a decoy.

Police Committee Meeting

Since there is no longer a Police Commission, meetings are now informally held at ten in the morning on the second Monday of each month. Why they chose this time is beyond me, but I’m cool with it because it doesn’t interfere with my pool league. As a result of the split, the women of the former Commission are no longer allowed to sit at the front table, although they‘re still unfortunately allowed in the door. Curly Headed Sandy’s spot at the front table was taken by the new Police Committee Attorney, Bob Grandluff, who doesn’t dress nearly as stylishly as former Commission Attorney, Charlie Amnesia. But to his credit, he also didn’t show up late. In Jan Chaddwick’s chair there remained only the imprint of her butt cheeks from the last meeting. That sight alone was worth getting up early for.

There are new rules, as well. The new Committee isn’t allowed to vote. Their job is merely to recommend proposals to the Township Board based on informal discussions. With this in mind, they recommend that the Township Board accept the financial statement and Chief’s Report.

They look over the budget and someone asks why our tire expense is so high. We buy tires 16-20 at a time, particular during the winter, insists Chief Kingston. We go through more rubber than Bill Clinton in a whorehouse. Our tire budget is second only to the Daytona 500.

We’ve had transmission problems in cars 4 and 5, which means that they can’t communicate with their crew chief or the pit crew.

Criminal activity is up on the barren streets of Broken Springs. Holiday season is among us. And what better way to spell out the Christmas spirit than with rampant crime?

As requested, Chief Kingston has gotten the price for two new cars. The good thing about new cars is they come with four brand spanking new tires. But the bad thing about new cars is they cost between 18,000 and 18,800. That’s about forty five hundred a tire, if I can trust my Broken Springs math. Tack on mirrors and police equipment (not to mention an awesome stereo), 19,500. Safety of the officer is at stake, since the car is their main tool, at least according to the head officer.

There are 145,000 miles on car #5. No wonder Kyle Busch cannot win a race. Bob Frugal asks if that’s the time a car needs replacing. The Chief says 80-90,000 is the ideal time to replace a car. He says you can get an old car refurbished so it’s like new for 13 grand, but that makes no sense when you can buy a new one for 18.

In other words, saving five thousand dollars makes no sense to Kingston. He obviously went to Broken Springs Schools too.

In the past a squad car was replaced each and every year but they stopped that because they were worried that the millage wouldn’t pass.

Ernie Hildecrust says they should wait and see. They table the proposal to buy two new cars. Not to be outdone, Jim Kingston then asks for one car.

The Committee says it must first wait to see how messy the divorce from the Village is.

We can afford, however, a new computer for Diane McDonald with which she can read the current issue of News from Broken Springs. Cost: $800.

There’ve been several instances of paintball damage around town, and police have a possible suspect in mind who drives a Grand Prix. You hear that, Paintball Thug? Time to switch cars. I don’t recommend Chevy Impalas, as they tend to have transmission and brake problems.

There was a close call on a front porch where a paintball came 12 inches from an elderly lady’s head. That explains her blue hair.

Officers have been extremely busy with drug busts as well. Heroin and Crack have been on the rise. Kingston even tells us where the loot is: in the Meadow Lane, Dogwood area.

There have also been lots of frauds, illegal lotteries, and scams. But enough about Christmas Care Bear…

Phil Ruse asks why our cops are going to other townships without compensation. For instance, we went fourteen times to St. Joe. I couldn’t hear all of this conversation over Curly Headed Sandy’s grumbling from the crowd but I did catch Kingston say that we’re not necessarily going there looking for crime, just coming across crime in those areas. It’s just a matter of being in the wrong place at the right time, which happens to us all the time.

Bonii Didjaseedat asks from the crowd whether or not any officer was involved in transporting Jeremiah Narc to his second polygraph test. Kingston reworded her question before answering, in the negative. When pressed on whether or not he’d transported Narc, he said yes, but only because he was on duty at the time, and only because he and the Prosecuting Attorney intimately discussed the matter and decided that it’d be in the entire family’s best interest for the alleged child molester to take another - preferably easier - polygraph examination. This was in an effort to leave no stone unturned in their investigation, which is now closed, by the way.

Bonii also insists that she’s seen and videotaped police cars at a bakery out of their jurisdiction. Kingston insists that his officers can’t stave off their constant craving for jelly filled doughnuts and must occasionally stop for their own safety. Curly Headed Sandy, from her comfy seat in the audience, lets the committee know that she doesn’t have a problem with our officers wasting taxpayer time and money to binge on Krispy Kremes and hot dogs.

Meeting adjourned.
Good thing too because I really wanted to go back to bed.

Santa Coming to Coyote’s Bar and Grille

On Friday, December 15th, Santa and his servant elves will drop into Broken Springs, according to a press release from the North Pole. According to the Top Secret Yuletide Memo, Santa himself will be unable to attend the event, due to an unforeseen outbreak of gonorrhea. But a Santa replacement will be on hand to sit in for Big Red. This year that honor goes to local national Dr. Phil celebrity, Jeremiah Narc. From 4 to 7, any area children will be able to sit on his lap and tell him what they want for Christmas. Area kids will also be able to get their mug shot taken with him and for an extra ten dollar charitable donation to Chief Kingston’s Christmas Care Bear Foundation, local parents can buy a trip for their offspring in Santa’s sled, which is currently Jeremiah’s uninsured rusty green Ford Bronco with expired license plate tags.

“Just remember Christmas Care Bear is not yet officially registered with the state, so claim the donations on your taxes at your own risk,” reminded Kingston.




“It’s sure to be a festive event,” said Coyote’s owner Roger ‘the Codger’ Jones. “Jeremiah will make a great Santa because he loves kids. No one can argue with that. If anything, he loves them too much, especially that daughter of his.”

When asked if his wife will be dressed as Mrs. Claus, Jeremiah said he’d recently caught her having an affair with one of the elves. Her attendance is unlikely, unless she can figure out how to untie herself from the stove.

Potent and Impotent

Wow… Broken Springs is now famous. Thanks to Dr. Phil, the random googler searching our fair city will now suspect that we’re all a bunch of white trash perverts. Is it true that Michael Jackson has bought property here?

I want to thank the many people who have approached me and/or my family about these silly articles I write. It means a lot to me that I can bring a smile to your face in the midst of dreary reality. The way I see it is Broken Springers have earned the comic relief.

I’d like to give literative fellatio to Township Supervisor Ernie Hildecrust for finally growing a pair in regards to the Police Commission. For too long we’ve spoiled the Village with double representation. Make them grovel, Ernimator. That’s what they get for playing the safety card.

Winter is almost here and haven’t we all missed it? I don’t know about everyone else, but I’m looking forward to seeing that huge pile of plowed snow across the street from the Post Office. There’s nothing that screams Broken Springs more than a humongous eyesore that obstructs your intersection visibility.

I’m all for practicality, so here are some useful tips that can be applied any time of the year:

1. If you are choking on an ice cube, don't panic. Simply pour a cup of boiling water down your throat and presto! The blockage will be almost
instantly removed.

2. Clumsy? Avoid cutting yourself while slicing vegetables by getting someone else to hold them while you chop away. I recommend our Mayor.

3. Avoid arguments with the Mrs. about lifting the toilet seat toilet by simply using the sink. You also save money by not flushing.

4. For high blood pressure blood sufferers: simply cut yourself and bleed for a few minutes, thus reducing the pressure in your veins. Remember to use a timer.

5. A mouse trap, strategically placed on top of your alarm clock , will prevent you from rolling over and going back to sleep after you hit the snooze button.

6. If you have a bad cough, take a large dose of laxatives, then you'll be too afraid to cough.

7. Have a bad toothache? Smash your thumb with a hammer and you’re guaranteed to forget all about the toothache.

8. You only need two tools in life - WD-40 and Duct Tape. If it doesn't move and should, use the WD-40. If it shouldn't move and does, use the duct tape.

9. Remember: Everyone seems normal until you get to know them.

10. Never pass up an opportunity to go to the bathroom.

Until next time,
Downward and backwards…

Worst police dog in the world.

Pluto the police dog is useless. His handler is pretty poor too(with all respect).