Get the Girl (pt 3)

A Modern-Day Fairy Tale

This is part 3. For part 2, click here. Do not click here.

“Yes chief … I understand … Hmm … Totally … Right chief … Our mistake, yes … Got it … Will do … Running all the way.” He hangs up the phone sweating like a dancing mule.

“Well? What did he say?”

“He gave me the address.”

“That does not sound so bad.”

“He is coming.”

“That sounds bad.”

“He is bringing the crew.”

“We’re doomed.”

“We’d better be there when he arrives.”

“We’d better get the girl.”

“She has a head start. How are we ever going to catch up?”

“Have you seen how slow that old timer was going? Come on, I saw a car at least twice as fast down the street. I am sure the owners won’t mind if we borrow it for the night.”

Meanwhile, halfway there, Darren was glad the car had no roof as Grandpa Ernest had just lit an enormous cigar while taking a severe talking to. “Why do you always get me into these things?”

“Just admit it, you like that I am always getting you into these things.”

“The next time you find a stray, maybe you should just let somebody else take it home.”

“She is not a stray.”

“If you ask me, she was lying through her teeth. I will eat my hat if it is really her grandpa we’re going to.”

“I am sure that if it isn’t her granddad, she has a very good reason for wanting to go to that address. You always see the bad in people.”

“You call it bad, I call it their true self.”

They kept silent for the rest of the way. When they arrived at the town, Darren woke up Rosie who rubbed her eyes and had no idea where she was for a second or two. Then she recognised Darren’s smile, and she turned red a little. “We’re nearly there, miss. Best to rub that sleep out of your eyes. Just a couple more turns.”

As they turned into Regent Street, Rosie saw the two men in their raincoats standing in front of the Magnus’s door. She gasped and ducked behind the driver’s seat. Darren and Grandpa Ernest had no clue what was going on and drove up to the front door where they were waiting.

“Looks like he arranged a welcoming committee for you, miss,” Grandpa Ernest said in his regular grumpy voice. “Would you mind telling us what is really going on?”

“Please, don’t let them get me. They are bad guys who want to kill the man who lives there,” she whispered from behind the seat.

“Well, they don’t look like killers to me. And just for the record, Darren, hate to say I told you so.”

The two men walked up to the old mobile and leaned in to have a look at Rosie who, despite keeping her head down, could be seen clearly.

“You have been causing us quite some trouble, missy,” one said in a condescending tone.

“Dear sirs,” Grandpa Ernest said in the sweetest voice he could muster, “I am sure we can work this out. This is probably just all a big misunderstanding.”

“It is a little too late for that now, mister. See, in a couple of minutes our chief is going to arrive, and last time I talked to him, he was not in a very good mood. You see, a little girl took something that did not belong to her.”

Grandpa Ernest turned his head round and looked at Rosie who had reappeared with a guilty look on her face. “What have you got to say for yourself, miss? And don’t give me that bull about killing anybody.” As he said it, from the corner of his eye he saw two heavy black boots stepping towards him in a steady stride. He could hear the thumping on the pavement. Then the Magnus’s door opened and the man from the pictures was standing in there dressed in his nightgown asking, “I have no idea who you people are, but some of us are trying to have a nice relaxing evening. Would you be so kind as keep it down a little?” He had not exactly paid attention as to who were all there. When he was finished, he saw the car with the three people in it, the two guys in their raincoats and big fellow surrounded by what appeared to be a whole bunch of midgets.

“Mr Magnus, I am awfully sorry for all this. This did not go according to plan,” the big guy said.

“You are him, aren’t you?” Grandpa Ernest said gaping.

“Yes, Ernest. It’s been a while.” Six pairs of eyes were staring dumbfoundedly at him from the car.

“Could somebody please explain this to me. It seems everybody knows about this but me,” Magnus said somewhat frustrated.

“Let’s go inside. You two,” and the big guy pointed at the two guys in their raincoats, “take the crew round the corner and wait in the sleigh. Don’t touch anything, or there’ll be hell to pay.”

Inside, the lot were gathered by the fireplace holding a nice hot cup of hot chocolate.

“So, you’re the real Santa Claus, I reckon. And who are you?” Magnus asked his visitors.

“Let me explain,” Santa said, “The old timer over there is Ernest P. Worrell. This is one of the few times it is not his fault. That young fellow is his grandson, who is even less to blame. And that little girl is Rosie Gottlieber. Even though she acted out of concern, she caused more ruckus than needed. This evening my informant was on his way with a package to be delivered to the Head Elf.”

“The H.E. on the note!” Rosie shouted, but covered her mouth when Santa gave her a quick glance.

“Yes, the H.E. on the note. The note on the package you were not supposed to take. My informant had left it on the train for my two elves – the ones in the raincoats – to collect. Unfortunately, they got the stations mixed up. They were supposed to have collected it as soon as my informant got off the train. Instead, little Rosie here opened it, saw the information it contained and decided to pay you, Magnus, a visit to warn you as she thought we were going to kill you.”

“Well, are you?” Magnus asked.

“No.”

“Then why did it say ‘Get this man. He’s the one’ in big, red letters on the note?”

“Because, Mr Magnus here, little miss, is the one. I can’t do this job forever, you know. My informant was sent out to find my successor. After careful consideration, it was decided you, Magnus, should become the next Santa Claus.’

Mr Magnus was dumbstruck and just stared at him blankly.

“This would have all gone quite differently, I am sorry for this mess, Mr Magnus. Nonetheless, the offer stands. Will you accept this job?”

A silence. All eyes were on Magnus. He put down his cup on the table in front of him. “Well, this is … . I don’t know. What about … ? There’s … .”

“I know. Don’t worry about it. It is Christmas eve. We’re going to go for a trial run and then, if you like it, the reins are all yours. If not … .” He looked at Ernest who had this twinkle in his eye his grandson hadn’t seen for a while, “No, let’s not go there.” And the twinkle was gone. Santa Claus saw the disappointment on his face and considered his next words carefully, “You know, my sleigh is big enough for the five of us. Ernest, can my two elves and crew borrow your car? It looks like we’re all going out for a ride.”

At least three of them were cheering. Magnus was still processing everything. Ernest was getting overexcited, “You know, I think I still know how to ride your sleigh … .”

“Don’t push your luck, Ernest. Most of us still have a will to live.”

The four of them were seated in Santa’s Sleigh that was waiting around the corner. Two Santa’s sitting in the front and Ernest, Darren and Rosie in the backseat with an enormous red sack full of gifts on their lap. “Mr Magnus, will you do the honours?”

“I have no idea … Oh, yes, I do. Now, Dasher! now, Dancer! now, Prancer and Vixen!
On, Comet! on Cupid! on, Donder and Blitzen!” And off they went.

In an old car with no roof, no radio and no heating, two elves in raincoats were packed together with a bunch of other elves, driving ten miles an hour wishing they had not messed up. Over their heads they saw the sleigh disappearing into the night. A hearty ‘Ho, ho, ho’ could be heard.

“You know, all’s well that ends well.”

“Shut up.”

Based on the writing prompt from writingpromptpal.