The acceleration area glowed with the glow of a hundred searchlights.
"How's it going before the start, moose?" Santa kicked his favorite reindeer in the rump.
"I'm a reindeer," the one kicked gently remarked.
"Be quiet." Santa stubbed out his cigarette on the reindeer's rump and looked ahead. "Oh, this flea-infested Christmas again," he sighed and began putting presents into bags. "Maybe you could help me?" he kicked his assistant. The latter woke up screaming.
"What, a nightmare?" Santa slapped him with Christmas candy as a greeting.
"The nightmare's just beginning..." the assistant sighed and quickly got to work, seeing Santa pull out his reindeer whip.
"What are you muttering under your breath?" the boss looked at the assistant inquisitively, shaking the whip.
"Oh, nothing, nothing..." the assistant replied hurriedly, and breathed a sigh of relief as the boss put the whip away.
"No. " The right answer—Santa Claus scratched his chin.
Meanwhile, the assistant had dropped a gift and rolled down the Accelerator.
“Oops…” The assistant looked fearfully at his boss.
“What…” Nicholas glanced at the gift rolling down the slope.
“Nothing, boss…” The assistant ran after the gift.
“You’ll haul it in your teeth,” Santa ordered.
“But… it’s a bit… inconvenient… as if…” the assistant tried to defend himself timidly.
“Am I not making myself clear?” Nicholas looked around for the whip. “Or should I walk over there to you? With a whip,” he added with a twinkle in his eye.
“Now, now…” the assistant said, examining the package. He clumsily grabbed the gift by the ribbons with his teeth.
“Just try to leave bite marks!” Santa Claus shook his whip at him.
“I’ll do it, I won’t leave it,” the assistant replied energetically through gritted teeth.
“Don’t spit on him!” "Santa!" shouted Santa, pointing to the sleigh. "Last one in, last one out!" he shouted. "Go!" he waved his whip. The sleigh started moving.
The assistant quickly realized he might have a very long walk ahead of him. He broke into a run. With a quick movement, he threw the gift into the sleigh and jumped. He clung to the slat connecting the runners to the passenger section just as the sleigh passed over the edge of the Accelerator. Risking his life, he tried to get inside.
"Fun!" he heard Santa's voice. He didn't understand. The boss's face appeared above him, twisted with a smile typical of madmen.
"Boss, help me!" came the assistant's plea.
"Fun!" Santa repeated, his voice confirming that the smile was no accidental lockjaw.
"What's the matter?" the assistant asked automatically, and he was overcome with a strange feeling that he no longer really wanted to hear the answer. The whip appeared next to the boss's head.
"A thriller..." Santa replied.
"Boss, pull me up..." the assistant whined, realizing he was already quite a distance from the ground.
"Never, you nasty spy! And don't call me 'boss'!" Nicholas replied, and began to strike his assistant's hands with his whip steadily and methodically.
"But... ouch!... boss... ouch!... ay!... pull... oh!... me... ouch!" The assistant felt himself approaching the end of his short life. And there was so much he still wanted to do: plant a tree, write a guide for Santa's assistants, taste caviar... Yes, I wonder what caviar tastes like...
Meanwhile, his situation didn't suggest he would ever be able to accomplish any of this.
"Die, you scoundrel!" Nicholas shouted, increasing the force of his blows.
"Here!" The assistant tried to pull himself up a little.
"Here, you stinking rat!" Nicholas increased the force of his blows again. The assistant ripped one arm off. Fearing another blow, he forced his weakened muscles into a titanic effort and jumped into the sleigh.
Santa was disappointed:
"You don't know how to have fun at all.
" "But thanks to that, I'm alive," the assistant panted from the corner of the sleigh.
"Oh, there." Santa put down his whip, scowling ahead. "Hey, moose!" He decided to vent his anger on the reindeer. "Move on! I'm talking to you, horned horses!"
After a moment, silence fell, except for the whistling of the wind and Santa's occasional grunts. The assistant leaned over the edge of the sleigh and looked down.
"I daresay," he said after a while, "we're making a third lap over this town."
"Be quiet! You're distracting me!" Santa slapped him with the whip. "Oh, now that that freak has spoken... Prr! Land, you monsters!" I don't think I need to show you where...
They stopped near the house of the first child on the list.
"Well, here we are," smiled Nicholas. "Big Poop.
" "Funny name," the assistant grinned.
"Why are you drying your teeth? 'Big Poop' is nothing compared to your name..." Nicholas paused. "But... you don't have a name!"
"Really? I didn't notice..." the assistant scratched his hat.
"I'll call you... I'll call you..." Nicholas pondered. "I
'll call you later." "Later? Is that my name?" the assistant asked. "Original.
" "Shut up, you idiot!" Nicholas clenched his fist and showed it to the assistant.
"Idiot? Even more original..." the assistant scratched behind his ear, not understanding his boss's nervousness.
"I meant to say I'll just call you later!" Nicholas was quite good at speaking through his teeth.
"Just later..." the assistant recited. "Couldn't you... make that... a little shorter...?"
"Later!" shouted an irritated Nicholas.
"So, it's Later. It's a bit of an odd name. But it's okay," the embarrassed assistant smiled uncertainly.
"No! Your name isn't 'Later'!" Nicholas exclaimed, and with a swift movement, he grabbed the whip. He then hit the assistant with it, then adjusted it twice – once to intensify the effect, and again to cheer himself up.
"Oh, life, life..." the assistant sighed, rubbing the sore spots.
"Get to work!" the boss growled. "What do we have here..." Now calm, he looked at the list. "Aha... hmm... sigh... Three." He pulled the bag toward himself. "Where is it..." He dug out a yellow present from the motley crowd. He looked at it with a strange grimace.
"Concentrate!" He threw it at the assistant. The assistant barely caught it.
A familiar smile appeared on Nicholas' face.
"Fun!
" "Same again..." the assistant frantically began searching for some cover.
"Throwing a present at a target..." Nicholas uttered. "You're a target!"
He gave the gift a significant boost, turning towards his assistant and letting it fall from his hand. He missed. More followed.
"Boss!" The assistant dodged the incoming missiles. "But... you have... responsibilities..." He broke off, struck in the face by a rather heavy gift. He landed, shattered, deep in a snowdrift.
"Oh, yes, indeed..." The smile vanished from Santa's face and was replaced by an expression of unspeakable suffering. He straightened his clothes. "I can never finish playing because I have 'responsibilities'!... Get to work, you slacker!" He looked around for the assistant. "You're not going to lie around on me!" He pulled out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. "Gather up those presents! We'll start right away."
When the assistant finally finished with the gifts, Santa said,
"Now you'll do what you always do." He stubbed out his cigarette with his shoe.
"What's the matter?" the assistant asked uncertainly.
"Haven't you heard?" You have to do what you usually do." Santa began approaching his assistant. "Should I remind you manually?
" "But what?" The assistant backed away from Santa, frightened.
Suddenly, Santa stopped in his tracks with a flash of sudden enlightenment.
"Oh, right! You're new! After the previous assistant..." Santa went off into the land of memories. "Never mind," he returned a moment later.
"Poor Golaf..." one of the reindeer sighed. "That's the house...
" "Quiet there!" The boss deliberately selected a large candy and threw it at the sleigh.
"What happened here?" The assistant's dismay grew.
"Nothing you want to know." Santa was blunt. "This house doesn't have a fireplace. You'll climb through the chimney and open the door. Understood?
" "But..." the assistant tried to defend himself.
"About the difficulties after completing the task. Have a safe flight!" Santa smiled, grabbing his assistant.
"What?!
"Well then..." the boss ignored any protests and simply positioned his assistant. "See you later!" He delivered a powerful kick.
During the parabolic flight, the assistant could clearly see the low buildings, dusted with snow, silhouetted in the distance. The few yellow lights from the windows at this hour reflected in the snow. Straight columns of warm smoke rose from the chimneys. Higher up, he could see the glow of the nearby city. The sky was almost cloudless... The flight would surely have provided him with wonderful delights. But how much could one see when he was only two seconds in the air and knew it wouldn't end well?
The landing, however, was a different story. It wasn't pleasant for any part of the assistant's body. It had to be admitted, however, that years of practice had taken their toll—Santa's well-aimed kick had landed the assistant on the edge of the chimney.
"I thought only birds and reindeer flew..." he said tiredly, sliding down. After suffering a dozen new scratches, choking on smoke, and fighting for his life against the fire in the stove, he managed to reach the front door. After such an ordeal, silently disposing of the sleeping bull terrier in the hallway was a piece of cake. Exhausted, he opened the door for Santa.
"I was already thinking about making myself some tea," the boss greeted him rather coldly. "You're a real slob! Just look at yourself! All dirty! Who do I have to work with?"
The assistant accepted the boss's remarks stoically.
"Let's go, Rudolph!" Santa turned toward the sleigh. "Hurry up, drunk! Or I'll help you, and I'll burn you so hard you'll turn green!"
Red-Nosed Man emerged from the crowd of reindeer, carrying a heavy sack. The two went inside.
The assistant approached the sleigh.
"Two questions," he said, timidly glancing back at the house. "What happened last year? And why would the boss need a whole sack if he only has to give away three presents?
" "As for the sack, Santa was just being whimsical," the reindeer replied. "And last year... hmm... Santa is a bit heavy, you can tell at first glance... And last year, in this house, there was this big, spreading Christmas tree. Santa caught a branch with his coat and pulled it towards him. It fell on him and knocked him flat on his back...
" "Well, but what about Golaf?
" "The poor thing was standing behind the boss..." the reindeer sighed.
Santa left the house. Rudolph followed, swaying under his weight.
"Come on, you slackers, time for another house! Let's go!"
They took a few steps.
"Hurry up, drunk! We don't have all night for this dump!" Santa urged Rudolph.
They stopped at the door.
"Hmm..." Nicholas glanced at the list. "This house doesn't have a fireplace either. Time for you," he said to his assistant. At that moment, Rudolph lost his weight and fell on top of his boss. He, in turn, slammed into the door with such force that it broke open.
"You... you... you... clumsy!" Nicholas exclaimed, forgetting the rules of conspiracy and trying in vain to get up. "You're lucky no one's here today!"
As if in response, a sound like the patter of small feet echoed inside.
"Well, maybe almost no one..." Nicholas was listening. "When we get back to the North Pole, I'll deal with the intelligence service. They should be beaten for providing false information!... Now, why are you looking at each other like little calves?" he glanced at his companions. "Come on, get up and help me up!"
Nicholas's employees looked at each other and rose from the floor. Then, embarrassed, they began to lift their boss. Their employer turned out to be quite overweight…
"Oh, you weaklings!" Santa flexed his muscles. "You couldn't even lift a butterfly like me without groaning. Who am I supposed to be working with?! And you," he glared daggers at Rudolph, "you'll see! We'll talk at home, moose… " The
red-nosed man cringed.
"Well, since you've exposed us, we'll have to show ourselves and pat a few kids on the head, ugh…" Santa grimaced.
They passed through the hallway. Santa gently opened the door to the living room. He saw the illuminated Christmas tree. He pushed the door open more boldly. Suddenly, a flock of children jumped out at him. They skillfully immobilized Santa, his helper, and the reindeer in more or less that order. Tied up, they found themselves in the middle of the room, back to back.
"So, Grandpa?" the leader of the gang asked the struggling Santa.
"I recognize you," he replied, though that wasn't really an answer to the question. "You're Lucek Niezgułka.
" "In person," the eleven-year-old grinned.
"What do you want?" Santa asked.
"What do I want?" Lucek repeated, pulling out a pack of cigarettes and matches. "I want revenge!" he said, putting the cigarette in his mouth and lighting it. He took a drag. He coughed. Tears welled in his eyes. The rest of the five-person gang followed suit, with similar results.
"Okay, maybe in previous years the presents weren't very diverse..." Santa began.
"Just rods..." one of the gang remarked between coughs.
"Did you hear that?" Lucek pointed at Santa with his cigarette and wiped his tear-filled eyes.
"Your behavior..." Santa began again. The assistant nudged the reindeer knowingly.
"What?" Lucek interrupted. "That we played a few pranks? That the car we pushed down the hill hit a tree? And besides, who told that old lady to go there? And what else? That the fire burned down Fredek's house? And who told his parents to buy flammable carpets? And why is it all our fault? We didn't do anything terrible!
" "Indeed, with what Santa does..." Rudolf sighed.
"Quiet in the group," the boss ordered, leaning slightly towards the Red-Nosed One and treating him with his overweight. A soft groan was heard.
"Listen, you wimp," Lucek's voice changed to a more menacing tone. "You'll be punished for those lashes in a moment!" He remembered that Santa wasn't alone. "You and your friends!
" "I wonder what you'll do to me?" If he hadn't been tied up, Santa would probably have his hands on his hips.
"Look at the fireplace." This moment brought Luck obvious joy.
"You don't have a fireplace," smiled Santa.
"Mistake. Your parents installed it a week ago.
" "What about this interview?" Santa said irritably.
Meanwhile, Luck snapped his fingers, or at least he thought he did. The gang seemed to understand, because they parted, revealing the fireplace. Fredek approached him and pulled out a branding iron. A look of fear gripped Luck's company.
"Luck… Luck," the assistant began to stutter, "y-you… you… you're s-serious, aren't you? We don't know that guy in red. Do you, Rudolph?
" "Absolutely!" the reindeer continued. "We were just wandering around and he bumped into us. We don't know him at all. Reindeer's word! Hey," he whispered in his assistant's ear, "you give your word too."
"A word..." the assistant stammered, pondered deeply, and, seeing no solution to his problem, whispered to Red Nose. "What am I exactly?
" "I don't know what.
" "A word of what I don't know!" the assistant shouted.
"What?" Lucek looked intently at Nicholas's assistant.
"I don't know what..." the assistant asked more than stated, and fell into deep thought again. He probably would have scratched his small head if his hands were free.
"Never mind," Lucek waved his hand. "Who's first?" He put the iron into the fire to heat up. Each prisoner nodded to his neighbor on the left.
"No volunteers?" Lucek smiled. He had clearly expected this. "So... we're counting!"
The prisoners looked at him in amazement.
"Ene, due, rabe..." Lucek began, but didn't finish. The counting was interrupted by a bone-chilling voice:
"Iii-aaa!!!" and a brown shape flew through the window.
"Karate!" – shouted the delighted assistant, but his face fell almost immediately. The karateka, poised for a kick, flew straight at him…
Bangs, cracks, grinding sounds, screams, cries of triumph and pain, and other sounds whose origins are difficult to discern with a straight face echoed through the house. It was better to move away from this place, gaze up at the sky, where the stars twinkle, and surrender to thoughts of transience and the splendor of the universe…
Enough of that. Something else needs explaining.
Karateka was part of Nicholas's team. He was a comical clumsy fellow who, in the company of others, not necessarily of his own kind, became the butt of cruel jokes and taunts. He finally decided to change that. He took up Eastern philosophy and eventually traveled there to explore it. He also took the name Laikomina…, Laikomini…, Leikominami… something. When he returned from his journey, his name caused considerable difficulty in communication, so he was called Karateka, even though he knew nothing about karate.
Luck's house fell silent. The narrator of this story has been accorded the unpleasant honor of peering inside. The effects of Karateka's intrusion momentarily rendered him speechless.
However, the action must continue. Therefore, the narrator will not remain speechless, as he had planned. At such moments, the parents often return. This time was no different. The sight they encountered momentarily stunned them. After a moment of silence, there was a sudden onset of illnesses that surely have proper definitions in psychiatric textbooks. They can be visited at the asylum from 8:00 a.m. to 6:00 p.m.
And now it would be worthwhile, at least briefly, to familiarize ourselves with the situation in the room into which Karateka had burst a few minutes earlier. Lucek was found bitten into his enormous red, size XXXL trousers, as later measurements revealed. Fredek clung to the ceiling and convinced everyone around him that he was a spider. After being convinced otherwise (spiders have eight legs, and Fredek has four, if you insist), he fell off and broke both his legs. Now he thinks he's an octopus. Three of the remaining four settled down in front of the fireplace with a cauldron hanging over it. The fourth of the gang was found in the cauldron. He later confessed that he'd decided to become a broth, but his friends had forgotten to add wood to the fire and leftovers from dinner. Everyone can be visited in the madhouse at the times listed above.
The assistant and the red-nosed man escaped immediately after Karateka kicked the former out of the ceiling—which, incidentally, resulted in all three prisoners being freed. They later established a farm specializing in growing potatoes, which they then processed, not entirely legally, into a liquid with interesting properties. They're making quite a living from it.
And Nicholas? After losing his last pair of trousers in Luka's teeth, he decided to return home. No one knows where he is now, though. Apparently, a short, overweight old man with a white beard, wearing a short red bathrobe and red boxer shorts, was seen driving a herd of strangely flat camels somewhere in the southern Sahara. But that's just a rumor.
And what's the conclusion of this story? See the title...
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