Back in the day there used to be a joint called the Nutcracker Suite. If half the rumors of what went on there are true it's no wonder that little match girl set herself on fire, and ran inside to burn the place down. Like most places, though, enough of the right people enjoy a horror show, well, not much is ever going to get done about it. Still, an example needed to be made, so Big Red tossed someone to the wolves, so to speak. I knew him as Felix von Baum, but the rest of the North Pole called him Dancer.
In a rundown tenement, in a part of the city the rats won't go to die, I stomp through the halls looking for a sign. If this town taught me anything it's that citizens love to torment their misfits. A pariah, practically a state sanctioned scapegoat, that's even better. It gives them all kinds of excuses to be as ugly as they want, and not hate the face in the mirror. Sure enough, on the third floor I see one door covered in graffiti, and what I hope is fudge.
It doesn't smell like fudge. The graffiti, well, I try not to notice it. If any of its true I might shoot him myself.
Knocking on the door I shout, "Felix, you in there?"
Through the door I hear drunken singing,
"Flossy and glossy
You racer out pacer
Fearless and peerless
So ready and steady
Though some may seem feckless
Yet reckless
They fly along speckless
It's Santa's own reindeer
We cheer!"
Knocking harder I call louder, "Felix. Open up, it's Rudy."
The song ends abruptly, a muffled series of swears follows. Footsteps sound from inside. I brace for any of an assortment of greetings, ready for anything except the reception I get.
The door flies open. Felix stands there glowering, swaying, then his eyes sparkle.
He hollers, "Look what jumped out the jack-in-the-box!"
A crooked grin spreads, and he throws his arms around me, sagging as he hugs me tight.
Shouting in my ear, "Rudy! Dah fuck are ya?"
I feel him convulse. The sound of sludge gurgling in his throat tells me all I need to know. I push him back in time to see him straining to hold his mouth shut. Gesturing for me to give him a second he chokes down the rising flood of vomit. He manages to swallow most of it, and what wouldn't relent he spits in a thick stream into the hall.
Waving me into the apartment he says, "Come in, come in."
I follow him into a tiny apartment. The walls stained by various fluids, none of which I want to identify. Root beer bottles litter the floor along with dirty clothes, and an array of fast food containers. A shredded recliner sits in front of a static shrouded television, but I see no other furniture, not even a mattress.
Standing over the sink Felix cracks open a bottle, swishes some sarsaparilla around before spitting into the basin. He grabs another bottle, tossing it my way without a care. I lunge to catch it, barely grabbing it before it hits the wall.
I watch him mumble and stagger to the recliner. Back in the day Felix used to be this slender figure that moved smooth and quick. It was no wonder he earned the call sign Dancer. That's what it looked like when he moved. Now he didn't seem to have the coordination to fall down. Eventually he flops into the recliner.
Setting the bottle on his massive root beer belly he smiles, "I always thought I'd see you then I didn't, so I never thought I would."
"What made you expect me?"
"Kick a motherfucker when he's down." He chugs a portion of his beer, "Not like I don't deserve it." He nods, "Yep... though I never screwed with you as bad as Blitzen."
I say, "That's true."
"Sometimes I think I dove into beating on you because it made sure no one paid attention to me. Ya know? So they wouldn't notice any which way I was weird."
"Is that what you think?"
"Well, alls I got is time to think." Laughing he whips the half empty bottle at the wall. It shatters, spraying glass and root beer everywhere. Shaking his head Felix says, "You got something to say you say it. You can't make me feel worse than I do."
I say, "I'm wondering if you could tell me about someone."
"I don't know nobody worth knowing no more."
"Roy Glitterspark."
His eyes narrow. Grinding his teeth Felix starts looking nine kinds of uncomfortable. Wriggling out of the recliner he says, "What you wanna know about him?"
Keeping my distance -- sensing a cornered animal -- I watch him go to the fridge.
I say, "Tell me about him."
While rummaging through the shelves he says, "If you don't have to, don't screw with him." Emerging from the refrigerator Felix cracks open a fresh beer. Regarding the bottle a minute he murmurs, "Yeah," agreeing with some thought before drowning it in suds.
Setting my bottle on the TV I ask, "I take it he fell from grace too."
Felix snorts, "He didn't fall. He leapt. That boy does what he's told." Sighing he adds, "One time Comet and Donner told him to cut off a finger. He did it. Didn't even think twice. That's why she asked for him."
"Who asked for him?" I fire the question though I know the answer.
"Vixen. She didn't like the way he got treated, so she requested him as her guard."
Following a train of thought out a dark tunnel I ask, "You say he leapt. How do you know?"
Shrugging Felix leans against the sink. I can hear the counter creaking, straining under his bulk. He used to walk on snow, barely leaving a print.
He says, "When they kicked my ass out the only people wanted anything to do with me were a bunch of blackmailing motherfuckers. I held out till I got desperate. Then I sold every secret I got. Grapevine still gives me bits... I hear things... things I sell now and again."
"I heard about that."
Waving an arm he chuckles, "Well, behold the luxury it affords."
Tucking my hands in my pockets I ask if he knows where to find Glitterspark. The answer is a big fat no.
Reaching for my wallet I say, "Here's something for the..."
He cuts me off, "Forget it. Consider it a debt I owed. Repaid." A silence begins stretching out, getting longer and increasingly awkward. It doesn't last more than a few seconds, but it feels eternal. Thankfully he breaks it by gruffly saying, "You know where the door is."
"Thanks Felix."
"Whatever Red Rudy."
Walking out I hear him pinball his way back to the recliner. He sings, though I can't make sense of the drunken slurring. The thud of him dropping into the recliner elicits a banging from the apartment below. I hear him stomp his foot, and yell, "Fuck you, I'm Dancer bitch!"
Out the hall I sigh. It's such a relief to be out of there. Knowing Felix could never leave, I almost feel sorry for him.
In a rundown tenement, in a part of the city the rats won't go to die, I stomp through the halls looking for a sign. If this town taught me anything it's that citizens love to torment their misfits. A pariah, practically a state sanctioned scapegoat, that's even better. It gives them all kinds of excuses to be as ugly as they want, and not hate the face in the mirror. Sure enough, on the third floor I see one door covered in graffiti, and what I hope is fudge.
It doesn't smell like fudge. The graffiti, well, I try not to notice it. If any of its true I might shoot him myself.
Knocking on the door I shout, "Felix, you in there?"
Through the door I hear drunken singing,
"Flossy and glossy
You racer out pacer
Fearless and peerless
So ready and steady
Though some may seem feckless
Yet reckless
They fly along speckless
It's Santa's own reindeer
We cheer!"
Knocking harder I call louder, "Felix. Open up, it's Rudy."
The song ends abruptly, a muffled series of swears follows. Footsteps sound from inside. I brace for any of an assortment of greetings, ready for anything except the reception I get.
The door flies open. Felix stands there glowering, swaying, then his eyes sparkle.
He hollers, "Look what jumped out the jack-in-the-box!"
A crooked grin spreads, and he throws his arms around me, sagging as he hugs me tight.
Shouting in my ear, "Rudy! Dah fuck are ya?"
I feel him convulse. The sound of sludge gurgling in his throat tells me all I need to know. I push him back in time to see him straining to hold his mouth shut. Gesturing for me to give him a second he chokes down the rising flood of vomit. He manages to swallow most of it, and what wouldn't relent he spits in a thick stream into the hall.
Waving me into the apartment he says, "Come in, come in."
I follow him into a tiny apartment. The walls stained by various fluids, none of which I want to identify. Root beer bottles litter the floor along with dirty clothes, and an array of fast food containers. A shredded recliner sits in front of a static shrouded television, but I see no other furniture, not even a mattress.
Standing over the sink Felix cracks open a bottle, swishes some sarsaparilla around before spitting into the basin. He grabs another bottle, tossing it my way without a care. I lunge to catch it, barely grabbing it before it hits the wall.
I watch him mumble and stagger to the recliner. Back in the day Felix used to be this slender figure that moved smooth and quick. It was no wonder he earned the call sign Dancer. That's what it looked like when he moved. Now he didn't seem to have the coordination to fall down. Eventually he flops into the recliner.
Setting the bottle on his massive root beer belly he smiles, "I always thought I'd see you then I didn't, so I never thought I would."
"What made you expect me?"
"Kick a motherfucker when he's down." He chugs a portion of his beer, "Not like I don't deserve it." He nods, "Yep... though I never screwed with you as bad as Blitzen."
I say, "That's true."
"Sometimes I think I dove into beating on you because it made sure no one paid attention to me. Ya know? So they wouldn't notice any which way I was weird."
"Is that what you think?"
"Well, alls I got is time to think." Laughing he whips the half empty bottle at the wall. It shatters, spraying glass and root beer everywhere. Shaking his head Felix says, "You got something to say you say it. You can't make me feel worse than I do."
I say, "I'm wondering if you could tell me about someone."
"I don't know nobody worth knowing no more."
"Roy Glitterspark."
His eyes narrow. Grinding his teeth Felix starts looking nine kinds of uncomfortable. Wriggling out of the recliner he says, "What you wanna know about him?"
Keeping my distance -- sensing a cornered animal -- I watch him go to the fridge.
I say, "Tell me about him."
While rummaging through the shelves he says, "If you don't have to, don't screw with him." Emerging from the refrigerator Felix cracks open a fresh beer. Regarding the bottle a minute he murmurs, "Yeah," agreeing with some thought before drowning it in suds.
Setting my bottle on the TV I ask, "I take it he fell from grace too."
Felix snorts, "He didn't fall. He leapt. That boy does what he's told." Sighing he adds, "One time Comet and Donner told him to cut off a finger. He did it. Didn't even think twice. That's why she asked for him."
"Who asked for him?" I fire the question though I know the answer.
"Vixen. She didn't like the way he got treated, so she requested him as her guard."
Following a train of thought out a dark tunnel I ask, "You say he leapt. How do you know?"
Shrugging Felix leans against the sink. I can hear the counter creaking, straining under his bulk. He used to walk on snow, barely leaving a print.
He says, "When they kicked my ass out the only people wanted anything to do with me were a bunch of blackmailing motherfuckers. I held out till I got desperate. Then I sold every secret I got. Grapevine still gives me bits... I hear things... things I sell now and again."
"I heard about that."
Waving an arm he chuckles, "Well, behold the luxury it affords."
Tucking my hands in my pockets I ask if he knows where to find Glitterspark. The answer is a big fat no.
Reaching for my wallet I say, "Here's something for the..."
He cuts me off, "Forget it. Consider it a debt I owed. Repaid." A silence begins stretching out, getting longer and increasingly awkward. It doesn't last more than a few seconds, but it feels eternal. Thankfully he breaks it by gruffly saying, "You know where the door is."
"Thanks Felix."
"Whatever Red Rudy."
Walking out I hear him pinball his way back to the recliner. He sings, though I can't make sense of the drunken slurring. The thud of him dropping into the recliner elicits a banging from the apartment below. I hear him stomp his foot, and yell, "Fuck you, I'm Dancer bitch!"
Out the hall I sigh. It's such a relief to be out of there. Knowing Felix could never leave, I almost feel sorry for him.
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