Tevun-Krus #11 - Holiday Extravaganza

A Zombie Christmas

A Zombie Christmas

By: @elveloy

“Sick!” exclaimed Dylan, wide-eyed with wonder.

“Yes, it is,” agreed his mother, somewhat surprised by her son’s reaction.  She was still staring at the television screen, not quite believing what she was seeing.

“Mum! I meant cool sick!” Dylan protested, rolling his eyes with ten-year old scorn.  “I’ve got to have one.  That’s what I want for Christmas.  Please?  Can I? Can I?”

“Aren’t you too old for dolls?” she asked, fighting a rear guard action.

More eye-rolling.  “Mum! It’s not a doll - it’s a zombie!”

 “I can see that,” Martha uttered, rather faintly.  She watched in horror as the toy staggered stiffly across the screen.  Its face turned green, then black, then crumbled away, eventually revealing a white skull.  The toy was still walking.  One of its arms fell off, leaving a bloody stump.  She knew it was just a toy but it was horribly realistic.

Martha felt a bit ill.

“At only $89.99, the Zombee comes complete with replaceable head and limbs.  Buy one now for Christmas ... if you dare!”  Eerie music played in the background as the voice-over continued, speaking in a suddenly normal - though very fast - voice, “Available from all major stores.  Terms and conditions apply.  Batteries not included.”

Martha glanced sideways at Dylan.  His eyes were fixed avidly on the screen.  Martha didn’t like the glitter in his eyes.  Time to nip this in the bud.

“I’m sorry,” said Martha firmly.  “It’s too violent.  Choose something else for Christmas.  What about an x-box?” she offered, knowing she couldn’t really afford one, but wanting desperately to distract her son.  She should probably be laughing wryly at the idea of a toy zombie, but she couldn’t.

“But Mum, all the other kids will be getting one!  Please!”

“I’ll think about,” she murmured weakly.  There was still a couple of months to Christmas.  With any luck something else would catch his eye and he’d forget about it.

But he didn’t.

“But Mum, Tom’s getting one - and Nathan - and Evan and-”

“I said ‘no’!  That’s final.  I don’t want to hear one more word about it!”

“I’ll ask Dad, then,” Dylan muttered under his breath.  Alarmed, Martha waited until her son had gone to bed and then rang her ex-husband, something she did as seldom as possible these days. 

“I mean it, Gerry.  I don’t want him to have one of those toys.  Have you seen the ad for them?  It’s gross.”

“Aren’t you over-reacting a bit, Martha?  Boys that age go for that sort of thing.  It doesn’t mean anything.”  Gerry spoke with that air of exaggerated patience she’d always hated.  “I’m sure a toy won’t turn Dylan into a serial killer!”  He chuckled. 

Martha took a deep breath.  “I’m serious, Gerry.  Please promise me you won’t buy him one.”

Gerry sighed.  “All right, I guess.  If it means that much to you.”

~~~

Christmas morning dawned bright and early.  All the presents were under the Christmas tree, including the large parcel that had arrived from Gerry by special delivery, late yesterday.

Martha was woken by the noise of Dylan opening his bedroom door and running down the passage.  She peered blearily at the clock beside her bed.  Six o’clock.  Nearly.

She lingered in bed, listening to the sounds below, torn between her desire to watch Dylan unwrap his presents and her hope for just a few more moments sleep. 

That wasn’t going to happen.  Time to get up.  Wrapping her dressing gown around her waist, she padded downstairs to the kitchen, calling out “Merry Christmas, darling,” as she went.  “Just let me get a cup of coffee,” she added, “and I’ll be with you in a second.”

“Uh-huh.”

Smiling, she imagined him tearing off the wrapper and finding the x-box she had lashed out to buy him.  True, the games she had bought to go with it were second-hand, but they worked, which was the main thing, right?

She could hear excited sounds coming from the lounge.  Nursing her cup of coffee, she pushed open the door to see the x-box, in its Star Wars wrapping paper, still under the tree.  Confused, she turned to see what Dylan was playing with.

For a moment, she swore she saw red.  Damn him!  Gerry had promised!

Bitterly, she scolded herself for thinking he would keep that promise any more than the others he had made so casually over the years.

She looked at Dylan, crouching on the floor, wide-eyed with horrified glee as the Zombee walked stiffly towards him, arms outstretched, its face changing from green to black as they watched.  Its eyes were large and rolling, turning from red to white.

“Look Mum!  Isn’t it the coolest thing ever?”  Dylan turned excitedly towards her for a second, before his eyes were pulled back to the toy.

She knew she had Buckley’s of ever getting the Zombee away from Dylan now.

As she watched, its right arm fell off, leaving a bleeding stump.  Martha frowned - that looked so real - how did they get it to look wet like that?

~~~

Gerry pushed away the remains of his second serve of Christmas pudding and custard, and looked rather guiltily at his mobile phone.  No use putting it off any longer.  Martha was going to be furious with him, but she would be even crosser if he didn’t ring Dylan to wish him a Merry Christmas.

He rang Martha’s mobile but she didn’t pick up and it went to voicemail.   He waited a couple of minutes and rang again.  The same thing happened.  He frowned - that was odd, Martha knew he’d be ringing.  She’d nagged him often enough about it. 

Reluctantly, he rang the landline.  He hoped Martha would be the one to answer, the last thing he wanted was to talk to her father, or worse, her mother.  He knew she was having Christmas at home this year, with her parents and sister coming over for lunch. 

The phone was ringing but no-one answered.  Even if they were all in the dining room, still eating, someone should have heard it.  Where were they all? 

The phone rang out.

His brother and sister-in-law exchanged sympathetic looks.  Poor Gerry - unable to spend Christmas with his own little boy.

“Never mind, mate,” said his brother in bracing tones.  “You can come and watch our kids open their presents.  We wouldn’t let them unwrap any of the big ones until after lunch - otherwise all the excitement’s over in the first five minutes of the day!”

“I can’t wait to see what you got them, Gerry,” smiled Cindy.