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A Shermer Christmas Carol
Chapter Fifty Five
By Chris Fulmer
"So there we were, roaring down the highway, the missiles hot on our tail,"
Del said dramatically to the Baker children, "Mr. Griswold was doing
everything he could to disable it, and my foot had the pedal to the floor.
But it kept gaining on us and gaining on us."
"Are you telling the truth here?" Sara asked him.
"Absolutely," Del said, "So anyway, one of them pulls up right alongside us
and explodes. I swerved hard to the right to get away. The missile
exploded not more than five feet from me, and...."
"Give me a break!" Mike snorted, "That couldn't really happen!"
"Well it did," Del said, trying to look as honest as possible. Mike made
the insane gesture around his ear and strode off, his younger sister in tow.
"Sounds like you've had a hell of a vacation," Samantha commented.
"Literally in some spots," Del shuddered at his multiple near-death
experiences, "You don't seem too cheery, if I may intrude."
"To be honest, Mr. Griffith, I've had as much fun over the last three days
as you have," Samantha said sullenly, "Thanks to Jack Frost's handiwork out
there, I couldn't go to the concert last night. And I've been forced to
sleep with the Donger's cousins--both of them in one bed. We've had three
false alarms with Ginny and the baby over the last twenty-four hours--I'll
crack if there's another false start. And to top it all off, I haven't had
a moment alone in almost four days. So yes, it's been great lately."
"Yeah, I'd say it's been great, "Del said, meaning it in a positive way.
Samantha picked it up. "You call what I've said great!?" she protested,
"Mr. Griffith, if you had to go through what I do every Christmas....!!"
"I'd be thrilled," Del finished for her. Noticing her ever puzzled look,
he explained, "You see, Sam, Christmas for me when I was your age was just
me and my aunt. She didn't have much, but we got along. Still, I always
wished I could have had a brother or sister to share it with, or parents to
open presents with Christmas morning. But that was destined not to be my
fate in life. You should be glad you have such a large family to share the
holidays with. Christmas is nothing without family."
"Easy to say for a guy who didn't have one," Samantha snorted, "If you had
to put up with them twenty-four seven, you'd want to crack too. I'll be
glad when they leave in four days and things can get back to at least a
small semblance of normalcy around here."
"I don't know," Del said, looking forlornly at a Baker family picture on
the mantle, "The mayhem is something I would have like to have experienced."
"Whatever," Samantha shrugged, "While you're here, do you have some spare
change? Friend of mine's taking up a collection."
Del produced twenty dollars from his pocket. "I hope this is enough," he
said, handing it to her.
"Del, lunch is ready," Mr. Baker called in from the kitchen. Del licked
his chops; he'd been looking very much forward to a full course meal since
the last one he'd had on Thanksgiving.
He strode into a very packed kitchen. "The turkey looks great, Brenda," he
complimented Mrs. Baker, "Almost like the ones Marie used to make." He eyed
Ginny's stomach. "Any day now, I suppose?" he inquired.
"That's what everyone keeps saying," Ginny said, "Although after all the
false starts, who knows anymore."
"Well, all I know is fatherhood's knocking on the door either way and I
can't get away from it," Rudy said, half intoxicated already. He held up
his bottle to Del. "Care for a shot, pal?"
"Uh, no, I think I'd better hold off tonight," Del said, "I've got an
appointment with a good friend of mine for dinner tonight, and I don't think
he'd like it if I came in ripped."
"Mr. Griffith," came Dong's voice behind him, "I wish to say sorry for
altercation earlier in week."
"Don't mention it pal," Del shook the exchange student's hand, "It's
already water under the bridge. It's as much my fault as yours."
"No no, I had, how you say, morning breath that morning," Dong persisted,
"You get drift?"
"Not really, but I think I know what you mean," Del admitted.
"You not meet my family, I not mistook," Dong said, waving in about eight
other Chinese people, "Meet father Long Wuk Grong, Mother Long Puk Wong,
Brother Long Ruk Fong, Sister Long Chuk Bong, Cousins Long Muk Chong and
Long Huk Yong, Grandpa Long Yuk Zong, and Grandma Long Tuk Song."
"Nice to meet you all," Del said, bowing to each member of the Long family
in procession. Unfortunately, he was standing a little too close to Grandma
Long Tuk Song and conked heads with her when they bowed in unison. They
reeled dazedly around the kitchen, Del knocking the bowl of hot gravy into
Grandpa Howard's lap, causing him to jump up screaming in pain. "I'm okay,"
the shower curtain ring salesman said quickly, trying to ignore the harsh
look the elder Baker was now giving him.
"Well then, perhaps you'd like to lead us in grace," Mr. Baker asked him.
"Sure thing, Jim," Del took his place at the head of the table. "Dear
Lord, thanks for bringing us all together for this feast," he prayed, "May
you grant nothing but joy for the new year for all in this house. And with
that, let's dig in."
"Amen," the Bakers and Dongs said enthusiastically and reached for the
food. Del helped himself to a large portion of turkey and cranberry sauce.
"I haven't had a solid meal since I left Chicago on Wednesday, Fred," he
told the nearest grandparent, who seemed relatively unconcerned, "With the
army nuts after us, it was basically hit and run with meals, and then only
fast food. At least we didn't have to worry about our credit cards like we
did last year; if we'd have gone through that again, I'd have..."
"Pass the water, will you dear?" Grandma Helen asked her husband.
"I'll get it for you," Del reached for the glass jar of water a little too
fast and knocked it over. It shattered on the table, spilling water
everywhere. "Great, now you broke the water," she told him sternly.
"He's not the only one," Ginny piped up suddenly. She was now taking very
noticeable breaths. For a moment there was silence. Then the entire Baker
household roared into action. Del was caught in the middle of frantic
preparations as he was knocked to the floor by numerous people. "I guess
this means I can just let myself out, right?" he asked no one in particular.
The house emptied in a whirlwind hurry. Del walked to the window and
watched the Bakers pile into two cars somehow and speed off toward the
hospital, slipping g and sliding horribly on the ice as they went. He
sighed deeply. Spending time with a typical family had made him wish even
more that he'd be able to somehow have a family of his own.
Rooney slouched into his office, finishing off the last of his third bottle
of whiskey since last night. He glanced down at the phone. Three messages
awaited him. He wearily pressed the button. "Ed," came the harsh voice of
Florence the school board member, "After reviewing the evidence against you
from yesterday, we're putting you on administrative leave for a month.
Behave yourself and you might get reinstated." The second message followed.
"Ed, your mother called me last night," Miss Horgorth told him, "She
threatened to decapitate me if she caught me around you again, so I guess
it's over, at least for now. Have a merry Christmas." Then came the final
one. "MR. ROONEY!!" Mrs. Bueller bellowed, "I'VE JUST HEARD THAT YOU
ASSAULTED MY DAUGHTER YESTERDAY!!! I AM SICK AND TIRED OF YOU MOVING
AGAINST MY FAMILY!! WHEN I GET THROUGH WITH YOU AT THE NEXT BOARD MEETING,
YOU'LL LUCKY IF YOU'LL BE ABLE TO CLEAN THE SEWERS IN THIS TOWN!!!!"
"Figures," Rooney mumbled, smashing the whiskey bottle against the wall.
His life had turned into a living hell in just twenty-four hours. And it
was all Ferris's fault.
"Morning Ed," came Vernon's voice from outside the office. The
superintendent looked quite frazzled himself.
"Morning Richard," Rooney greeted him, "How's your Christmas Eve going so
far?"
"Not bad; Cheryl kicked me out," Vernon said, looking very vindictive,
"SOMEBODY told her I was spending my spare evenings with Evelyn. I'd bet
every cent in the world it was John Bender, that filthy slime."
"I wouldn't be surprised," Rooney said, glancing out the window. The
school district plows were clearing the parking lot for the dance. "Well,
at least tonight we can rub him and everyone else in this school out," he
said.
"That's the one thing you keep saying , Ed, but the question would be how,"
Vernon pointed out, "You don't have a firm plan, and no method with which to
kill anyone."
There was the sound of several footsteps in the outer office. "Hey Eddie,
ya in?" Harry called to his boss.
"Come in," Rooney called to them. He was surprised when several people
actually came in. "Who are all these people?" he demanded.
"I was told by Morris here that you wanted to wipe out some people,"
General Blum said to the principal, gesturing to Morris Frye, "Perhaps we
could be of some assistance to each other."
"Morris?" Rooney searched his memory banks. Then it hit him who he knew
named Morris. "Frye!?" he asked, very intrigued.
"That's me, Mr. Rooney," Morris shook his hand, "It's been a while since we
had our last talk. Tell me you've slammed Cameron with something, because I
want him to suffer for everything he's done to ruin my life."
"I've tried, Morris, but no luck so far," Rooney told him, "Who's your
associate here?"
"General David A. Blum, United States Army," the general introduced
himself, "I've had thirty years of combat experience, and my men are among
the best in the world."
"So?" Rooney didn't quite get it.
"So I'm willing to put my troops at your disposal," the general said, "I
did in a thousand of the best Sandista troops in Nicaragua and licked two
hundred Green Berets in the Somalian desert. I can easily kill several
hundred kids. All I ask is a fitting fee for my services."
"How much?" Vernon asked, his eyebrows raised.
"Fifty million dollars."
"FIFTY MILLION!!??" Vernon gasped.
"It's a deal," Rooney shook Blum's hand, "We'll get it as soon as possible.
How many guns do you have?"
"More than enough," General Blum said, pulling out two Colt .45s, "We also
have explosives if you need it."
"How much explosives?" Rooney was very interested.
"Counting all the dynamite, C4, grenades, claymores, mines, and other
charges, about twelve tons," General Blum said.
"Perfect," Rooney rubbed his hands in glee, "The dance begins at seven
tonight; I'd like it if you'd get everything set up by six thirty at the
latest."
"If I do this, I have the understanding that you will not call the
authorities on me," General Blum warned him.
"Whatever you say, Mr. General sir," Rooney shook his hand again.
"That's General Blum to you!" the general snapped, "You will now accept
that I am in charge here and can do with this school as I please."
"Whatever, just make sure there's death and we're even," Rooney said.
"Right," General Blum turned to his adjutant, "Lieutenant, call Champlin,
tell him to bring everything we've got. We need to turn this school into a
hornet's nest as soon as possible."
"Right away, sir," Lieutenant Maltin picked up Rooney's phone. "No," the
principal said, snatching it away from him, "My phone bill's high enough as
it is, calling Ferris Bueller's parents every other week. Use the public
phone in the lobby."
"Right," Lieutenant Maltin started out, then turned back to his superior,
"Can I borrow a dime, sir? I'm all out."
"No, because you used up enough dimes during this campaign!" his boss
snarled, "You need better fiscal management if you want to stay under my
command!"
"Here's a quarter,' Rooney sighed, flipping one to the lieutenant, "Don't
go over five minutes, and I expect you'll pay me back."
The lieutenant smiled and walked out. "Is there some place I can stay
here?" General Blum asked Rooney, "It's rather risky for me to be outside."
"Faculty lounge, down the hall to the right," Rooney pointed. Blum and
Morris walked out looking like they were on cloud nine. The principal
turned to the burglars. "Well, now that you know what's going on, I'll
expect you here at six. "he ordered them.
"Right," Harry said, "We gotta go to the airport; we got a flight to
Trinidad later tonight."
"Book Richard and myself on that flight if you will please," Rooney told them.
"Right," Harry started to leave, then asked, "Ya want coach or first class, Eddie?"
"Anything will be good, thank you," Rooney sighed, "Now just do whatever
you need to do and get back here in time."
As soon as the burglars were gone, Vernon gave Rooney a very nervous look.
"You do realize that by hiring mercenaries to strike the student body, Ed,
we're signing our own death warrants," he pointed out, "There's no way the
school board will want either of us after we kill them all."
"Oh, so now you want to do it?" Rooney inquired, "I'm proud of you,
Richard. You're turning into a real man."
"Seriously, Ed!" Vernon said sharply, "I have a strong love for this job!
I don't really want to do this!"
"Then why are you doing it, Richard?" Rooney had to know.
"Because I hate those damn kids," Vernon grumbled, "Especially John Bender.
I want to see him go down hard."
He will, Richard," Rooney reassured him, "And you'll get to see it. In the
meantime, have a drink," he pulled out another whiskey bottle from his
tuxedo.
"I don't drink," Vernon said, "And how the hell are we going to pay that
lunatic fifty million dollars? There's just no way."
"Trust me Richard, we'll get it to him, and lighten up a little; if we're
going to lose our jobs, we might as well go out in style," Rooney said.
When Vernon still shook his head, he shrugged and said, "Suit yourself," and
starting downing the whiskey bottle's contents. "To a future without any
worries from a loser bunch of kids, my friend, "he toasted.
On to Chapter 56
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