By John Weagly
“What you want to do for Christmas?” Tinsel-Toes asked.
“Eat somethin’ good,” Fatty said. “A special Christmas dinner.”
Fatty was six foot two, three-hundred pounds, white hair, white beard and partial to wearing red. Tinsel-Toes was three foot seven, had pointy ears and liked to personalize his appearance with the color green. Together they looked like Santa and his A-Number-One elf. They had real names, but everyone that knew them called them Fatty and Tinsel-Toes.
“That’s what I thought you’d say,” Tinsel-Toes said. “You still got that hatchet?”
“Get it. We’re going to Garland Park.”
Fatty stood, his brain trying to catch up with what was going on. “What we gonna do in Garland Park?”
“Take care of those geese. They think they own that damn pond.”
“What ya mean?”
“You go there to feed the ducks, they steal all the bread. They chase the other animals away."
“Even the squirrels?” Fatty asked.
“Even the squirrels.”
“I don’t like that."
“There’s one that’s the leader,” Tinsel-Toes said. “He’s bigger than the rest. Darker. We take him out, the rest will fall in line.”
“And then we eat him. A special Christmas dinner.”
Tinsel-Toes took some oyster crackers out of his pocket and scattered them on the ground. The geese saw the cuisine, stood and started to lumber over. One of them was clearly larger than the rest.