"Remember, I'm looking for something a ten-year-old girl would enjoy."
Teddy pouted. "The right ten-year-old girl might enjoy a brass maiden... But not to worry! I have plenty of other gift options. Like this!" From a nearby shelf, he picked up a large, dusty bone covered with cobwebs. "This petrified bone was once part of the ugliest, most vicious and evil dinosaur of all--the dreaded Two-Headed Hellosaurus."
"Hellosaurus!" Neil cried. "Never heard of it."
"The Hellosaurs didn't have feet--just a muscular, slime-exuding belly, like a giant snail, useful for sliding around and biting other dinosaurs. It was low to the ground, so it could bite the privates off the taller dinosaurs. In fact, that may be why the dinosaurs went extinct." The professor set the bone back on its shelf. "Some scientists think the Two-Headed Hellosaurus came from outer space, but I believe that demons have been evolving, too, just like us regular-type critters, and that the Two-Headed Hellosaurs was, in fact, a dinosaur demon. I also believe that pterodactyls were dinosaur angels. In their honor, I always put a little toy pterodactyl on top of my Christmas tree."
"Missy does love dinosaurs," Neil said, "but a dirty old bone isn't much of a gift." He looked around. "I don't see your Christmas tree..."
"It's upstairs, along with some especially rare collectibles. I also live up there."
"Ah! I wondered why I didn't see a car outside."
Teddy waved a hand dismissively. "Cars! I manage to get around without using those awful, smoky things. How do you think I moved this building from Tibet all the way to Wisconsin?"
Neil looked around, confused. "An entire brick building? Well, I don't know... You'll have to tell me some other time. Right now, I need to find something for Missy. They're expecting me at home."
"Not to worry! I have a nice little dolly right over here." The professor walked over to a side-table and picked up a busty doll without a head. "This is the Jayne Mansfield doll. I also have a Marie Antoinette doll in the back that--"
"No, no, no!" Neil said. "Please, Missy is your typical cute, sweet, ten-year-old girl. Do you have anything in stock that won't give her nightmares?"
The professor snapped his fingers. "Follow me!" he said as he walked to the front of the store. He stood grinning by a wooden rocking horse. "Isn't this the loveliest thing you ever saw?"
"It certainly is," Neil said, kneeling by the toy, admiring its craftsmanship.
"It's made out of cedar...it has that lovely forest-smell to it. Hand-carved and hand-painted! Just look at the right eye! That little painted twinkle is so whimsical, so mischievous, as though the horse is saying, 'I've got a secret!' As a matter of fact, this particular rocking horse does have a secret..."
"I'll take it! It's perfect." Neil stood up and pulled his wallet out of his back pocket. "How much?"
"You don't want to know the secret?" Professor LaGungo asked, his eyes round with surprise.
"The only secret I want to know is the price."
"Like I said, it is made by hand, not manufactured. It comes from a faraway land, too. Normally it goes for three-hundred dollars, but since I'm having a half-off sale, it goes for one-hundred and fifty. And since you've been so extremely patient with all my stories--I do tend to ramble on!--I will let you have it for only one-hundred dollars."
"You've got a deal, Teddy!" Neil opened the wallet, took out two crisp fifty-dollar bills and handed them to the professor.
A few minutes later they were in the parking lot, loading the rocking horse into the backseat of the Primus. It was a tight fit, but they managed it.
"Merry Christmas,Teddy," Neil said. "And thank you." He then drove off into the night.
The professor shuffled back into the shop. He brushed snow off his sleeves as he walked up to the stuffed green iguana. "You know, Bertram, I really wish he'd allowed me to tell him the secret of the rocking horse. Would you like to hear the secret?"
Yes, Professor! Of course I would, Bertram did not say.
"The secret, my dear Bertram, is this: that delightful rocking horse came from Zombie Island. It was specially designed by grown-up zombies to help zombie brats hunt down their prey. Little zombie arms have hugged its smooth, graceful neck. Wee zombie butts have ridden on its finely crafted saddle. Good thing it's made of cedar, or else it would have probably reeked from all that constant exposure to zombies, zombies, zombies!" Teddy smiled. "Ah, well! He'll learn the secret soon enough."
* * *
It was eight PM when the next customer entered Professor LaGungo's shop. Ting-a-ling!
Helga Pennywhistle, age sixty-two. Mother of four, grandmother of eight. She was just a little over five feet tall, if you counted the thick salt-and pepper bun of hair on top of her head. Like Teddy, she wore glasses with bottle-thick lenses.
"Welcome to my humble shop," the proprietor said, closing the large, dusty volume he was reading--Countess Bathory's Big Book of Beauty Secrets. "I'm Professor LaGungo, but you can call me Teddy. How can I help you? I'm having a half-off sale tonight. Please, look around! Shop till you drop!"
"A fifty percent discount? You don't say!" the petite grandmother said. "I'm looking to buy a present for my grandson, Andy. I thought I'd done all my Christmas shopping and then at the last minute I realized, I'd forgotten all about Andy. Probably because I've been so busy! Work, work, work! I run a day-care center and my little angels run me ragged!"
"I understand," the professor said. "My parents were always very busy, just like you. Sadly, they never remembered to buy me any gifts. No birthday gifts, nothing for Christmas... But I digress. Exactly how old is Andy?"
"Eight--and as cute as a button."
"You know, little boys love to pretend they're spacemen!" He picked up a shiny metal and plastic gizmo. "This item is a real doozy. Einstein's death-ray gun. Albert, you see, used to go out with a cocktail waitress named Lisa LaGungo. My aunt."
"You don't say!" Helga exclaimed.
"Lisa LaGungo was a very beautiful woman," Teddy continued, "but she was married with three kids, so she could never tell the world about her love affair with Albert Einstein. Eventually, she broke it off--the relationship, that is. Albert became so enraged, he started work on a death-ray gun to destroy humanity."
"Goodness!" Helga said.
"But then Albert met and started...let's saying 'pitching woo,' that's a good euphemism...with Marilyn Monroe. So he never finished his vile, terrible weapon of utter destruction. He gave this harmless prototype to my aunt as a memento. His way of saying, 'Hey, no hard feelings.' In a way, Marilyn Monroe saved the world. What a gal."
"That certainly is interesting," Helga said, "but I'm looking for something less violent and more educational."
"Educational! I have just the thing..." The professor reached under his counter and brought out a doll. It looked like a stone head from Easter Island, except it had long, flexible limbs and was clutching a spear, which also had a stone head. Unlike the doll's blunt head, this one came to a sharp point.
"Mercy! What in the world is that?" Helga asked.
"A doll from the island of Pokaluhu in the South Pacific. This will teach your grandson about a little-known foreign culture. Very exotic--and educational!"
"True! You've even taught me something. Before this evening, I'd never even heard of the island of Pokaluhu. How much is it?"
"Normally it goes for one-hundred dollars. But tonight, everything is half-off. Only fifty dollars...and since you have such a nice smile, let's make it forty."
They chatted for a few more minutes and then Helga wished Teddy a very merry Christmas and sailed out the door.
"Oh, don't look at me that way, Bertram!" said the professor to his stuffed green iguana. "Yes, I should have told her about the doll's fully functional jaws. Dolly's can't eat, of course, but they do love to chew! I'm sure she will soon become aware of that particular feature--for which there was no additional charge, I might add!"
How generous, Bertram did not say.
* * *
> Ting-a-ling!
The next customer who came in, fifteen minutes after Helga Pennywhistle's departure, was blanketed in snow. Roger Sinclair resembled a walking snowman until he brushed himself off, revealing himself to be a police officer.
"Good evening!" Professor LaGungo said. "'Twas was the night before Christmas and all through the shop, not a public servant was stirring, not even a cop--except you! No offense."
The policeman smiled.
"I've always wondered why they said, 'the night before Christmas.'" Teddy continued. "They should have said, 'Christmas Eve.' It's a lot shorter and rolls off the tongue more easily. I'm Professor LaGungo, but you can call me Teddy."
"Thanks, Teddy--I'm Roger. I had to work twelve hours today and still needed to do some last-minute shopping. I'm finally off my shift and all the other stores are closed. I'm surprised you're still open."
"There are plenty of surprises in here," the professor said. "Plus, everything is half-off. My big Christmas Eve sale! Look around! There's so much to see, my busy, busy friend! Shop till you drop!"
"Great!" the police officer said. "All I need is a gift for my seven-year-old daughter Emily. Let's see what you've got."
"Perhaps you should get something for yourself, too. I have some rare items that you might enjoy displaying in your home. Real conversation-starters for cocktail parties!" The professor walked to a cherrywood table and pointed to a glass box with a curiously stained stone inside. "Here we have a moon rock with some alien blood on it. I keep this item sealed up tight. Old things can have such frightening germs on them--especially this thing." He pointed to another glass box, which held another oddly stained item. "Do you remember Typhoid Mary from the pages of history?"
"I've heard of her, yes," the officer said.
"Nice lady," the professor continued. "Loved to cook. Worked for different families. Left a trail of sickness and death. This is a coloring book from her childhood. I don't think all those colors came from crayons. Especially the earth tones. Perhaps if she were alive today, she'd be one of those avant-garde artists who make statues and paintings out of poop and whatnot. I hear museums pay big money for that sort of thing."
"Sounds like you have some potentially dangerous items in this shop. We'll have to talk about that some other time. Right now, let's concentrate on a gift for Emily. Something fun. Something safe. Something..." the police officer paused. "...traditional."
The professor picked up a pink, fluffy toy bunny. "Something like this?" he asked.
"Yes, that's more like it! How much?"
"Normally it goes for twenty dollars, but with a half-off discount, it's only ten," the shop owner said. "For a fine protector of the streets, let's make it seven bucks! Seven bucks for a bucktoothed hare!"
The police officer handed Teddy the money, picked up the bunny and left the shop.
Bertram stared at Professor LaGungo with dead, shiny eyes.
"I know what you're thinking," Teddy said, "and yes, I probably should have told the nice officer that the bunny came to our world through a trans-dimensional gateway. But really, do you think he would have believed me? Would he have believed that such a cute, adorable, fluffy toy originated from the Galaxy of Death?"
Hmmm. Probably not, Bertram did not say.
* * *
In his garage, Neil Gluckman maneuvered the rocking horse out of the car and placed it on the concrete floor. How, he wondered, was he going to wrap it? Would there be enough wrapping paper in the house to cover it? Even if there was, Missy would still be able to tell what was under all that paper.
As he stood thinking, he absent-mindedly pushed on the horse's nose, rocking it back and forth a few times. He then looked around the garage at his motley collection of tools and odds-and-ends, hoping that inspiration would strike him.
He looked back at the horse.
It was still rocking.
Faster and faster. All by itself.
He backed away from the horse. The toy responded by rocking toward him.
Twin steel blades slid forth out of the horse's curved rockers.
Neil rushed to open the garage door. He only had time to open the door halfway--but that was enough.
Enough to allow the rocking horse to leave when it was finished.
* * *
Helga Pennywhistle lived alone, but you couldn't tell by her Christmas tree. Under its branches rested presents for her four children, the spouses of her four children, and her eight grandchildren. In the morning, all her loved ones would arrive to open their presents. The house was completely silent: one could not even hear the wee scratchings and scramblings of any meandering mice. Helga had placed the doll from Pokaluhu in a shoebox, which she'd then wrapped with shiny green paper.
The spear pierced the box and wrapping paper easily. The doll then climbed out of the box and headed up the stairs toward Helga's bedroom, snapping his little jaws all the way. His teeth, previously hidden behind rigid lips, resembled thin, jagged shards of broken bones.
In fact, that's just what they were.
* * *
When he came home, Roger Sinclair hurried to his home office--he refused to call it a den, since that sounded so pretentious--and pulled the fluffy bunny out from under his coat.
"Hello!" the bunny squealed in a high-pitched yet raspy voice.
"Hey, you talk!" the policeman said. "Cool! Emily will love you."
"Thank you, Roger!" the bunny said.
The policeman laughed. Toys these days really were amazing. He wondered what kind of technology the manufacturer had used to get the toy to say the buyer's name. "Are you voice-activated?" he said.
"Of course! All living things with ears are voice-activated," stated the bunny from the Galaxy of Death. "We listen to what others have to say to us and we react accordingly. I must say, that was actually a rather stupid question! Would you like to know how I respond to stupid questions?"
Frightened and confused, Roger dropped the bunny. "With a stupid answer?" he said.
"No!" the bunny roared, looking up. His eyes began to glow bright red. "With a cutting reply!"
At that moment, sizzling laser beams shot out of the bunny's eyes.
* * *
In the back room of the shop known as Professor LaGungo's Exotic Artifacts and Assorted Mystic Collectibles, Teddy sat at his desk, smiling as he counted his money. Another successful Christmas Eve. Tuttlesburg was certainly a great deal more profitable than Tibet. He'd brought Bertram into the back room to keep him company, and he couldn't help but notice that the iguana's hide was the same shade of green as the fifty-dollar bill he was holding.
Suddenly, a tiny rapping sounded at the back door. The professor shuffled to the door and flung it open. The wind blew in a flurry of snow as three small figures made their way into the room.
"Welcome home!" he said, closing the door behind them. "I hope you had no trouble making your way back."
Tenderly, lovingly, the professor brushed the snow off the rocking horse, the doll from Pokaluhu, and the adorable pink bunny from the Galaxy of Death. Then he used a soft red towel to wipe off the bloodstains. They would all require a more thorough cleaning in the morning.
"It's important to spend the holidays with loved ones," Teddy said, gazing fondly at his little companions. "I do hate people who put work before family. I absolutely hate them! They're just like Mommy and Daddy, always busy, busy, busy!"
He turned to look at a picture frame on the wall to his left. The frame did not hold a painting or a photograph. It featured a yellowed newspaper clipping--an article with the headline, Couple Dies In Xmas Fire: Child Missing. He wiped a single tear from his cheek. "Well, you know what they say. 'Busy people become the Devil's playthings'--or something like that. Bertram, do you think I should have told the customers that the term 'half-off' would apply to them as well as the prices?"
At that moment, the psychotic cuckoo clock on the wall, which used little straight-edge razors as hands, struck midnight. A wee bird
in a straitjacket popped out of its hiding place inside the clock and screamed twelve shrill notes of rage.
Merry Christmas, Professor LaGungo, Bertram did not say.
About The Authors
Mark McLaughlin's fiction, nonfiction and poetry have appeared in almost 1,000 magazines, newspapers, websites, and anthologies, including Flesh and Blood, Black Gate, Galaxy, Writer's Digest, Talebones, Midnight Premiere, Dark Arts, and two volumes each of The Best Of The Rest, The Best Of HorrorFind, and The Year's Best Horror Stories (DAW Books). Collections of McLaughlin's fiction include Motivational Shrieker, Slime After Slime, and Pickman's Motel from Delirium Books, At The Foothills Of Frenzy (with co-authors Shane Ryan Staley and Brian Knight) from Solitude Publications, and Twisted Tales For Sick Puppies from Skullvines Press. HorrorGarage.com features his online column, "Four-Letter Word Beginning with 'F'" (the word in question is Fear).
Also, he is the co-author, with Rain Graves and David Niall Wilson, of The Gossamer Eye, which won a Bram Stoker Award for Superior Achievement in Poetry. His poetry collection, Phantasmapedia, was on the final ballot for the 2007 Stoker Award for Poetry.
With regular collaborator Michael McCarty, he has written Monster Behind The Wheel (Delirium Books/Corrosion Press), Attack Of The Two-Headed Poetry Monster (Skullvines Press), and All Things Dark And Hideous (Rainfall Books, England).
To find out more about McLaughlin's work, visit:
www.myspace.com/monsterbook
www.myspace.com/poetrymonsterbook
www.myspace.com/twistedtalesbook
Michael McCarty is the author of three books of interviews--Giants of the Genre and More Giants of the Genre from Wildside Press, and Modern Mythmakers from McFarland and Company. His short stories and interviews have appeared in a variety of magazines and anthologies. He is the author of three fiction collections: Dark Duets from Wildside Press; All Things Dark and Hideous, co-written with Bram Stoker Award-winner Mark McLaughlin, from Rainfall Books in England; and Little Creatures from Sam's Dot Publishing. Also, he has written Ghostly Tales of Route 66, a book of true ghost stories with Connie Corcoran Wilson, published by Quixote Press.
Professor Lagungo's Delirious Download of Digital Deviltry & Doom Page 2
