Merry Nickmas (3)

Here's the next chapter in my dark Christmas story. Chapters 1 and 2 can be found here: 

http://www.abctales.com/story/macashton/merry-nickmas

3.

     It was Wednesday night, December 23^rd when a terrible realization dawned on Nick. Ordinarily his Christmas shopping list consisted of eggnog, rum, candy canes, and a renting two copies of the movie Gremlins, for when he inevitably lost one in a drunken stupor. By accepting the invitation to stay with his mother, he had effectively thrown a jolly firebomb on said plans. Nick looked wistfully down at the tumbler in his hand and told the rum that it would have to wait just a little longer.

     It was around 7PM when the engine in his bland sedan struggled to turn over in the evening chill. Each breath brought with it a wretched plume, smelling of canned beans and Doritos (a dinner that was both easy to make and satisfying in a mediocre sort of way.) The car whined like an unsatisfied child on Christmas morning, but eventually turned over like a “good little automobile.” Nick gave the steering wheel a reassuring pat and sped out of the parking spot like he was beginning a race.

     The speed lasted only the five miles of freeway before the mall exit, at which point Nick found himself bumper to bumper in holiday gridlock. He shuddered at the sight of hundreds of cars lined up, creating a string of maddening Christmas lights, leading to the packed mall parking lot. In one of the world’s great ironies, Nick felt like Santa, following the red lights of the cars in front of him through the fog of traffic.

     Twenty minutes later Nick began the battle for a parking spot. The elderly are out in force tonight, he thought, spying a slow moving mini-van going the wrong way about a mall roundabout. It took a deft swerve to avoid collision, but it ended up leading him to Valhalla; a parking spot in front of Macy’s. Nick had expected a long hunt through unending rows to find an empty spot, but as he turned, he noticed a car, listing slightly from its holiday load, backing out.

     He pulled forward slowly, savoring the end to his journey, and at that moment noticed an angry pair of headlights, with a blinking turn signal. Through the half-frozen windshield, he caught sight of an elderly man in a Santa hat that looked as though it had been through The Great War, sitting behind the wheel of an equally elderly Buick. On the front bumper was a tiny red nose that drained the car’s already struggling battery. The man began to shriek and shout as Nick pulled toward the spot, honking weakly, and revving his engine.

     In Nick’s mind there were two options: Allow the man to take the spot, and continue searching through the barren wastes for another, or fight the man in a high-stakes automobile jousting match. Nick revved his own engine and gave the horn a gentle tap. The beep echoed through the cold air, and was met by the loudest blare the Buick could muster. He wrapped his gloved fingers around the wheel and stepped on the gas.

     With lightning speed, the old man’s Buick shot into the spot and bumped into the curb. Nick barely had time to press on the gas pedal. “Fuck,” he muttered and pulled away from the now occupied spot. The old man stepped out of the car and performed a dazed bow before skipping merrily towards the shopping center.