A Christmas Story in 8 Parts: Part 5
Dec. 29th, 2004 11:21 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
franceslievensPrevious parts
“HO HO HO HO HO HO HO HO HO HO…”
Thousands of fists were up in the air, cheering on the speaker, a somewhat chubby man, with red cheeks. He carried his potbelly with dignity. Not many men have been able to pull that one off. With a small gesture of his hand he silenced the cheering crowds, took a deep breath and spoke to the masses. His voice was soothing, but his words were inflammatory.
“Fellow gentlemen, Free Men of Christ, long enough have we been standing outside, lying in the gutters of this nation, spat upon by every citizen. Today the time is near when we will stamp on the faces that spat at us; throw those outside that never have let us in. On New Years Day we will rise to our own hearths!”
The crowd went wild and started repeating the speaker's last sentence in its own fashion: “OWN HEARTH FIRST! OWN HEARTH FIRST! OWN HEARTH FIRST!”
Again a slight hand gesture silenced them. “Free Men of Christ,” the speaker went on, “it is time to assume the name for which we are born. People shall tremble in fear for this name. We will be Christmen!”
If they weren't wild already, they were now. The rhythmic yelling of “Own hearth first” and “Christmen” made the empty balcony on which Tobias lay tremble. This was the strangest gathering he had ever seen: Tiny men with red coats, red trousers and red pointy hats preceded by a giant with a potbelly and in the same red costume. He looked like Father Christmas.
“Who's that fella?” a voice behind him asked.
Tobias turned around and looked into the face of detective Gavarni. There really weren't very good security guards at the door. Not only a teenager, but also a full-grown man weighing over a 100 kilos had been able to follow them and get inside the theatre. A smile crept over the detective's fat lips. “Hey kiddo, seems we had the same idea about that little army.”
Tobias shrugged. The army wasn't exactly little, the soldiers were. Gavarni crawled a bit closer to the railing. “I guess we found the missing Christmas decorations,” he said.
Tobias didn't react. He felt the balcony move underneath him. With a frightened look on his face he hissed to the detective he should move away from the railing. Too late.
Several “Christmen” had broken Gavarni's fall. He could see them very clearly now. They looked like cheap Christmas decorations, a little Santa Claus that's left dangling from a first floor window. “The kid,” Gavarni thought and turned around a bit. He could see Tobias' face, up on the balcony, but its expression wasn't frightened. He more or less smirked at the detective. Gavarni was stunned, but that's what you usually are when they hit you over the head with a heavy object.
“HO HO HO HO HO HO HO HO HO HO…”
Thousands of fists were up in the air, cheering on the speaker, a somewhat chubby man, with red cheeks. He carried his potbelly with dignity. Not many men have been able to pull that one off. With a small gesture of his hand he silenced the cheering crowds, took a deep breath and spoke to the masses. His voice was soothing, but his words were inflammatory.
“Fellow gentlemen, Free Men of Christ, long enough have we been standing outside, lying in the gutters of this nation, spat upon by every citizen. Today the time is near when we will stamp on the faces that spat at us; throw those outside that never have let us in. On New Years Day we will rise to our own hearths!”
The crowd went wild and started repeating the speaker's last sentence in its own fashion: “OWN HEARTH FIRST! OWN HEARTH FIRST! OWN HEARTH FIRST!”
Again a slight hand gesture silenced them. “Free Men of Christ,” the speaker went on, “it is time to assume the name for which we are born. People shall tremble in fear for this name. We will be Christmen!”
If they weren't wild already, they were now. The rhythmic yelling of “Own hearth first” and “Christmen” made the empty balcony on which Tobias lay tremble. This was the strangest gathering he had ever seen: Tiny men with red coats, red trousers and red pointy hats preceded by a giant with a potbelly and in the same red costume. He looked like Father Christmas.
“Who's that fella?” a voice behind him asked.
Tobias turned around and looked into the face of detective Gavarni. There really weren't very good security guards at the door. Not only a teenager, but also a full-grown man weighing over a 100 kilos had been able to follow them and get inside the theatre. A smile crept over the detective's fat lips. “Hey kiddo, seems we had the same idea about that little army.”
Tobias shrugged. The army wasn't exactly little, the soldiers were. Gavarni crawled a bit closer to the railing. “I guess we found the missing Christmas decorations,” he said.
Tobias didn't react. He felt the balcony move underneath him. With a frightened look on his face he hissed to the detective he should move away from the railing. Too late.
Several “Christmen” had broken Gavarni's fall. He could see them very clearly now. They looked like cheap Christmas decorations, a little Santa Claus that's left dangling from a first floor window. “The kid,” Gavarni thought and turned around a bit. He could see Tobias' face, up on the balcony, but its expression wasn't frightened. He more or less smirked at the detective. Gavarni was stunned, but that's what you usually are when they hit you over the head with a heavy object.
