A Christmas Story in 8 Parts: Part 4
Dec. 28th, 2004 11:35 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
franceslievensPrevious parts
“So you really know nothing of these Free Men of Christ?” the fat cop asked again.
The kid shook his head in response, a look of disgust creeping over his face when he saw Gavarni gobble up his forth slice of cheesecake. Then the cop (Detective!) swallowed it all with big gulps from his too sweet coffee.
“So Toby,” Gavarni was speaking with his mouth full. A drop of coffee rolled down to his chin. The man wiped it away with the back of his right hand. “I can call you Toby, right?”
“Tobias…”
“Sorry, Tobias, tell me again about Friday…”
For the third time since they had entered the coffee shop Tobias told detective Gavarni the story of how he had left the much too crowded flat at Christmas Eve. He had walked several blocks and returned home at about 11:30. He was crossing the street to his own building when the papers started to fall. There were literally hundreds of them. He had picked one up to show at home, but had forgotten about it when his mum started yelling that he couldn't leave without telling anyone and that she had been worried. The next day the papers in the street were gone.
“I believe you.” The statement sounded completely out of place. A distracted detective talking with his mouth full simply doesn't seem sincere. Especially when he walked out on you the day before.
Tobias gave him a look that said it all: “Yeah, right…”
“Twue,” the fat guy mumbled. He swallowed his last bites of cheesecake before continuing: “See, this paper isn't just good quality. It's the best quality.” He fished the crumpled red paper out of his pocket and put it on the table. “Just the simple gold to make these letters has cost a fortune… Kid, I don't think you have that kind of money. You're not fooling me with this.”
Tobias got up. “Yeah, sure, thanks for listening.”
Gavarni stayed at the table, looking at the piece of paper with the golden letters, mumbling to himself and ordering another piece of cake.
Tobias lay awake in bed. There was a sound like someone beating on drums on the other side of the building. It had started out as a soft pitter-patter, but now it had grown to full blown kettledrums. He tried to cover his ears with his pillow – to no avail.
Suddenly the lad sat up straight in his bed. He knew what this sound was: There was an army marching through his street.
“So you really know nothing of these Free Men of Christ?” the fat cop asked again.
The kid shook his head in response, a look of disgust creeping over his face when he saw Gavarni gobble up his forth slice of cheesecake. Then the cop (Detective!) swallowed it all with big gulps from his too sweet coffee.
“So Toby,” Gavarni was speaking with his mouth full. A drop of coffee rolled down to his chin. The man wiped it away with the back of his right hand. “I can call you Toby, right?”
“Tobias…”
“Sorry, Tobias, tell me again about Friday…”
For the third time since they had entered the coffee shop Tobias told detective Gavarni the story of how he had left the much too crowded flat at Christmas Eve. He had walked several blocks and returned home at about 11:30. He was crossing the street to his own building when the papers started to fall. There were literally hundreds of them. He had picked one up to show at home, but had forgotten about it when his mum started yelling that he couldn't leave without telling anyone and that she had been worried. The next day the papers in the street were gone.
“I believe you.” The statement sounded completely out of place. A distracted detective talking with his mouth full simply doesn't seem sincere. Especially when he walked out on you the day before.
Tobias gave him a look that said it all: “Yeah, right…”
“Twue,” the fat guy mumbled. He swallowed his last bites of cheesecake before continuing: “See, this paper isn't just good quality. It's the best quality.” He fished the crumpled red paper out of his pocket and put it on the table. “Just the simple gold to make these letters has cost a fortune… Kid, I don't think you have that kind of money. You're not fooling me with this.”
Tobias got up. “Yeah, sure, thanks for listening.”
Gavarni stayed at the table, looking at the piece of paper with the golden letters, mumbling to himself and ordering another piece of cake.
Tobias lay awake in bed. There was a sound like someone beating on drums on the other side of the building. It had started out as a soft pitter-patter, but now it had grown to full blown kettledrums. He tried to cover his ears with his pillow – to no avail.
Suddenly the lad sat up straight in his bed. He knew what this sound was: There was an army marching through his street.
