12 Days

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December 15, 2010 by markstani

From my new, FREE short story collection, XXXmas Box – click cover for more details

Cowan went in the Kwik Save and tried to push a pack of own-brand mince pies up his anorak. The box split and spilled the mince pies in the aisle. Cowan panicked and took a bottle of sherry from the shelf to steady his nerves. By the time security reached him it was half gone.

Rivis was running late for work and reckoned if he got the sack he couldn’t afford presents for his girlfriends’ kids. He jumped in the Shop mobility buggy but accidentally rammed it in reverse. He scratched up two parked cars and smashed in the window of Dorothy Perkins.

Sleightholme dressed as Santa to give the kiddies a laugh. It was the same suit he wore each year only this time he’d lost two stone due to having half his bowel out. His trousers snaked round his ankles outside the school gates. A couple of the kids’ dads gave him a kicking.

Quickmire popped out for a quick half but lost track of time. She couldn’t recall how she came to be lying in the bins round back of the SpiceRite with her skirt fished up round her waist and a chicken tikka masala daubed down her bare front. She spewed up race taunts at the guys who found her.

Collins had been through a tough time and figured as the collection plate was to help the needy God wouldn’t be all too bothered if he laid a claim to it. He tried to leg it out the church bull fell over a pew and banged his head on a sharp edge. He’d since had blackouts and reckoned God had taught him a lesson all right.

Peters saw the Christmas tree in the town square and couldn’t help thinking it would look kind of pretty in his own place. He lugged it two miles home. When he found it wouldn’t fit in his front door he took out his chain-saw and sliced the trunk plus a foot-long, bone-deep gash in his thigh.

Manning wrapped a Christmas box and took it down the Cat Protection League. She left it on their doorstep. When they ripped off the wrapping they found a cat dead, rock-cold and suffocated. She left a card in the box wishing them a merry Xmas and asking them to take good care.

Curtis lobbed a 12lb frozen turkey off his second floor balcony, said he saw red at the carol singers interrupting his night-shift sleep with Good King Wenceslas. He gave a couple concussion then waded out for the turkey, told them on second thoughts he might be needing it after all.

Hornby was banned from every pub in town but it didn’t stop him trying. He crashed in the Black Bull and told the bouncers he’d be back to torch it. They found him flat out on a park bench with an empty crate of Super and a lighter clasped up in his shiny hoar-frost hand.

Marsden could have swore she put the sign on the grotto saying shut for lunch. She didn’t expect the boss to burst in and find her straddling Santa. The Santa said she’d forced herself on him, told him it was time for his Christmas box. Marsden cried rape but the CCTV proved it different.

Craven said the other kid always got the best part in the school nativity on account of being in a wheelchair. Said she saw red when she got told hers was a poxy inn-keeper for the third year running. Said she had nothing against the handicapped, but having Jesus as a cripple just took the biscuit.

Robinson took next door’s six-foot snowman to teach them a lesson. Said it lit his living room like Blackpool illuminations. So he cracked its head off and lobbed it straight through their ground-floor window, said he reckoned on finding out just how they liked it.


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