It's Murder at the Buy-Right

40

"But that parade didn't hold a candle to what you planned for the next Christmas, Daisy Ann."

Her stomach dropped as she remembered pulling the rip chord and nothing happening.

How could she have been so stupid?

"No more lamebrain parades," Deke said. "NO."

"But this year will be different."

"Daisy Ann, that's what you always say. Ca-ching. Ca-ching. I hear the dollar signs ring! And the sad part is, it's usually my wallet being victimized!"

"Oh, stop being Ebenezer Scrooge, and hear me out."

"Alright, but hurry up. I've got six cases of pork cracklings to unload and a ton of hams and turkeys."

"Pork cracklings! I love those things. I wonder if I can con Iggi into making me some crackling cornbread."

"Stay on topic, Daisy Ann. I haven't got all day."

"Yeah. Right. Well, you'll be happy to learn, I'm done with parades."

"That makes me ecstatic," Deke said, going over some paperwork. "I'm totally under-whelmed."

"Um, right. But this year, I thought we could recycle the Santa sleigh and have you on top of the Buy-Right."

"Me! No way. Uh-huh, Daisy Ann. You know I'm not fond of heights. And besides, that sleigh got torpedoed by the weed eater bandits."

"Oh, it did not. It's a little banged up, but from a distance, you'll never notice."

"Daisy Ann," he said, "my answer is nada. You do whatever you want. I'm going to Florida for some deep sea fishing over the holidays. You have my blessing to put that old sleigh up there as long as you don't punch any holes in my roof."

True to his word, Deke left for Florida two days later.

By this time, Daisy Ann was dating Foslo Joints. Foslo could fly a gnat. The man was just that good.

"Best crop duster since the Red Baron," Snoot Owens said once.

"But wasn't he a World War One German ace, Snoot?"

"Then I rest my case. World War One. That suckers long dead by now. Foslo's the best. Hands down. No argument."

Snoot was happiest when he had the last word. A lot of his conversations were ended with 'no argument.'

"I could drop my nephew, Alvin Earl, out of my plane and let him parachute and land on the roof near Santa's sleigh," said Foslo.

"Sounds like that would take a lotta luck and strategic planning," said Daisy Ann, who had visions of Elwood's stove pipe hat docking into the tidy bowl.

"Piece 'a cake," said Foslo.

"But isn't little Alvin Earl a little big large for this project?"

"Too fat, you mean? Nah. We want our Santa to be his jolly corpulent self, don't we? Besides, Alvin Earl's been on a diet. He's dropped at least five pounds since you last saw him."

"I guess you're right," said Daisy Ann. "The more I ponder on it, Alvin Earl would be a great fit for the suit."

"Extra large will never look so good. You leave the Santa jump to me. I'll leave the sleigh on the roof to you."

"Foslo," Daisy Ann said, "you got yourself a deal."