SUNDAY - RED BELT SUPER SCOUT
Georgia
“What do you mean, you’re out of the red-belt-something-or-other dolls?”
“Sorry, but we’re out of Red Belt Super...” The bored tone of the boy behind the counter cracks and he goes still as a frosted scarecrow when he sees the look I got in my eye.
I lean over and give this youngin the kind of stare I used to reserve for those most deserving of my less than Southern charm. “Hell or mile-highwater will not stop me from getting one of those dollies, so you’d best tell me where to find it, ya hear?”
“It’s five days before Christmas... uh, Ma’am.” His glasses are sliding down his beak-like nose. “I mean… All the stores in the city are sold out.”
I keep a knife in a holster below my boots. I don’t normally pull it unless it’s an emergency, but this is an emergency.
“Sugah, the only thing my little baby Owen wants for Christmas is that damn doll, and I do intend to get it.” I go ahead and plant that little bitty knife so deep in the counter that I near-crack the wood.
The poor pimply-faced wretch just about faints, but manages to squeeze out a few words. “He… he… that man bought the last one.” He points at a rotund and retreating backside.
I pull up my knife, hike up my shopping bags, and take off after my new prey without another word.
“Excuse me, sir,” I say, pushing through the mall crowds and coming upon a man plump as an autumn pig at the trough. “I was wondering if I might persuade you to part with that there dolly?”
“Doll?” says the man, his beard’s even thinner than his fading hairline. “Madam, this is the Red Belt Super Scout, the leader of the Terran Sector Karate Super Scouts and he is no mere doll. This is a deluxe model action figure with fully articulating limbs, kung-fu grip, over seventy different battle phrases, and special edition authentic battle damage.”
“Darling, If you don’t hand over that doll,” I grab the man by the collar and yank, “then you’re going to feel some real authentic battle damage.” It’s been a while since I committed any true acts of villainy against a civilian, but right now it’s feeling like the devil himself is sitting on my shoulder.
“Madam, please,” says the man pulling back, his eyes going wide. “I purchased this item quite fairly. It is mine, and as soon as I put it up on the Internet for desperate parents, such as yourself to bid upon, then—”
“I’ll buy it from you right now,” I say through gritted teeth. I reach into my bag. “Here’s fifty. That’s double what you paid for that there dolly.'”
“Action figure…”
“Action whatever. Now take the greenbacks and give me that there toy.”
“That’s a little low.” The man smiles something awful. It’s the type of look I’ve only ever seen on mad scientists and meter maids. “I expect I will get triple that sum once the bidding begins online.”
My knife is still concealed in my palm. I could just slide it out, real gentle-like. Everyone else in the mall would just see the man lean backward, as if he were tired and needed a lie down. By the time anyone came to check on him I’d be as long gone as my mama was on Christmas Eve, but instead I reach back into my purse.
“How about a hundred?” I say holding out the money. “That’s my final offer, and your final chance, if you get my meaning, sugah.” I let the glint of my knife show. Like my pa always said, the best way to motivate an ass is with a carrot and a stick.
“Well, when you put it as such, that seems amicably fair.” He gulps a lump down his massive throat and snatches the bills from me as if I were some snake about to bite him, which in fairness, I might. Then with a trembling hand he forks over the box.
As he waddles himself away, I finally let the smile cross my lips. This is going to be the best damn Christmas my Owen could ask for—
“My children, hear me...” The voice speaks from behind me. It’s reedy and full of annoying conviction. I recognize it and give a little curse under my breath. I’ve been around the block enough times to know what comes next.
“...for you are all heathens, sinners, and idolaters. You worship this season not for the holiness of its message, but for the possessions it offers.” The wind picks up, which is mighty strange because we’re indoors. Suddenly, it’s so cold that it could freeze the blood of a swamp gator.
“This should be a time of peace, and yet you spend it shopping in the chaos of greed and commercialism, and on the sabbath, no less. But fear not, for God is mercy, God is grace, and God is peace.” The wind dies down, but the Downtown Acropolis Mall is now covered in a light dusting of snow, transforming it to some sort of twisted winter wonderland.
“Unfortunately, God is not here right now, only me. I am Friar Freeze.” The friar certainly knows how to put on a spectacle, I’ll give him that.
There’s a blast of ice and the escalator nearest me freezes over. Then the friar comes gliding down it like the first snowflake of the season, laughing maniacally all the way. All the people around me panic and run like it’s some sort of judgement day. Friar Freeze just keeps on laughing and starts shooting ice beams at random shoppers, leaving them looking like the popsicles Owen leaves too long in the freezer.
“May the Lord Jesus Christ be with,” yells the friar, “and also wind you.” Another gust of frigid air knocks a whole mess of shoppers sideways. Before I can react they hit into me and send me sliding on ice.
In the confusion the red karate doll goes skidding away from me. All I can do is watch as the dolly gets kicked around by panicked shoppers until it stops too close to Friar Freeze, and turns to a solid block of snow and ice.
“Oh, that is the final lick,” I explode, shoving off the middle-aged woman that’s heaped on top of me. I drop all my bags, and slide my way to the friar, like I’m stealing home. In one swift motion I pick up that frozen dolly and hammer it over his bald blue head.
Friar Freeze goes sprawling, sliding like a foal on a frozen lake. He turns over, cursing to high heaven, but when he sees me he freezes more solid than one of his victims. “Georgia… What are you doing here, my child?”
“Friar,” I pull the now familiar knife and hold it out to see him. “Far be it for me to defrock a holy man so close to this joyous holiday, but you just cost me a hundred bucks and the happiness of my son, and guess which one of those things makes me madder than a hornet in a glass jar?”
“C’mon, Georgia,” says the man holding up his hands. “You have to understand the will of the lord in—”
I throw the knife and it sticks in the ice not but a few inches from his bald little head. “Okay… what do you want? It’s Christmas and I'm a religious-based ice villain. I mean this holiday is like… well it’s like my Christmas...”
“I think I can take it from here, ma’am.” This time the voice behind me is confident and annoyingly charismatic. I recognized it as well.
Patriot Missile puts his hand on my shoulder, and it feels strong and steady. I look at his little mask and then his red, white, and blue tabard and I want to scream. I retrieve my knife and conceal it away. His own longbow is still slung over his shoulder along with a quiver of blue tipped feathered arrows.
“Fine,” I say. “He’s all yours, you Yankee-Doodle-Do-Gooder.”
“You can’t arrest me,” says Friar Freeze as the hero slaps star shaped cuffs on the man. “Georgia, wait. Georgia, help!”
“Merry Christmas, friar.” I smile and pick up the frozen and cracked toy.
It ain’t mint no more, but I put it back in my shopping bag. Maybe one it thaws I can convince Owen that his new dolly just has a bit more special edition authentic battle-damage… or something like that.
