“You tryink to kill me, Van Helsink?”
Count Vladimir Szlavy turned his phone around to show GaggleMap of the assignment address his case worker had given him. “Is church. Naves and crosses! One step in, I go poof!”
SMISA Case Facilitator Mina Van Helsing folded her arms. “There aren’t any naves or crosses and there won’t be any poofing. The Christmas party’s being held in a gymnasium, for Pete’s sake. Don’t make me revoke your blood bank subsidy, Vladdie.”
The Scary Monsters Integration into Society Act (SMISA) required werewolves, mummies, and vampires like Vlad to perform a certain amount of community service hours each quarter. Revocation of plasma delivery meant he’d have to go back to sucking blood out of street derelicts. He hated working nights.
Vlad sighed. “Vere I pick up Santa suit?”
#
Mina (per regulation) accompanied Vlad to the assignment dressed as elven helper (not per regulation). It was a church. A dun-colored brick church with steeple but no cross. No poofage so far.
“Bah!” he muttered. Fake beard ticked undead nose.
She led him in through back way, up stairs to stage with curtain drawn. He peeked through curtain. He saw gymnasium with basketgame hoops, families milling about, rows of folding chairs. Lots of kiddies eating crisps.
“Listen to the children of der night. Vhat squalling racket dey make.”
A trio of ladies rushed Mina. “Sister Van Helsing!” they trilled. “You did find us a Santa. After Brother Quincy Morris fell ill—”
“Ja, Ja!” Vlad snarled. “Chust line up kiddies und get tings over vith.”
Elf- Mina patted Vlad’s shoulder soothingly. “This is Brother Vlad. Don’t mind him, he gets grumpy in the middle of the day.” Mina sat him on a tinsel-bedecked chair. “You know what to do?”
“Bah.” He ticked off mittened fingers. “I ho-ho-ho. I seat kiddie in lap. I say ‘vhat vant?’. I seat next brat. A genius, Santa not haff to be.”
#
As so it went.
Vlad ho-ho-hoed each child, nodded at toy request, then hurried them off his lap before they wet. Elf-Mina stood next to him with readied clipboard, writing down what each child asked for so she could slip note to parents later.
Finally, he’d lapped every child. Every child but one. A nine-year-old boy dressed in threadbare clothes the wrong size hung back, reluctant to approach.
Growling, Vlad shot out his chair, grabbed the kid by his waist, carried him back to the chair, and plopped him on his lap.
“Now. Vhat-you-vant or I spank behind. In Old Country, spanking by vampire is nothink to fake-beard sneeze at!”
“Nothing.’ the kid said with miserable eyes. “Daddy says Santa can’t visit our house.”
“Vell, if Santa could and did, vhat vould Santa brink?”
“A JohnnyOmacSevenFeatureMachineGunWithThingThatGoesUp,” the boy blurted then immediately clapped a hand over his mouth, ashamed to have asked.
“Vell, dat pretty definite.” He handed the kid not one but two of the paper sacks of candy, oranges, and peanuts they were giving every kid.
“Poor kid,” Mina whispered after the child left. “Brother Harker’s struggling to pay his wife Lucy’s medical bills. They’re not starving but that sack of oranges is all the Christmas little Jonathan’s going to get.”
“Bah,” sniffed Vlad. Not his Christmas circus, not his Christmas monkey. Let crossless church handle it. Vlad had done community time and earned blood money.
That all that mattered.
#
After pacing his coffin for three days running, Vlad gave in.
It took him forever to find a JohnnyWhatever-with-thing-that-goes-up toy for sale, even using GaggleSearch AI. Once he’d found one, he had to flap batwings all the way to Cleveland to buy it. Bah! Cleveland! Everyone hate Cleveland. Even Grover hate Cleveland and he was President two times.
Vlad bent SMISA rules a little and used mesmer-eyes to pry brat’s address out of Mina. Vampire can’t walk through front doors of houses uninvited — all that Bram Stoker “Enter freely and of your own free will” kokolores — but chimneys? Chimneys, he could bat-flap down, no problem. Is loophole.
The house interior was painfully empty. Everything that could be hocked had been. Vlad set boxed toy on the living room floor with a scrawled card: “Now You Haff Machine Gun With Thing That Goes Up. Ho-Ho-Ho.” To cap it off, he placed a Santa hat on the box, just like in Hallmark movie.
Then he realized there was no Christmas tree, no Christmas decorations of any kind. He hurriedly bat-flapped to Valmart just as it was closing and bought tinsel and the last folding pre-lit tree on shelf. Half-off. (They were restocking for Fourth of July.)
Back at Harker house, Vald set up tree next to box toy, scattered tinsel.
Bah! So far this community service had cost him $288.78, not counting the liniment for tired bat wings. Still, was done. Now maybe he could get good day’s sleep.
Satisfied, he turned with jerk (he needed more liniment!) and flapped his way back home.
#
The day after Christmas that trio of church ladies, Mina in tow, barged uninvited through front door. No Bram Stoker nonsense for them! “We heard all about what you did, Brother Vlad, and wasn’t it marvelous and here’s a flyer for our Ward New Years Eve Get Together and what would be a good time for the missionaries to call?” the three babbled excitedly.
They shoved said flyer, a box of goldfish crackers (“Do you have kids, Brother Vlad?”), and loaves of something called zucchini bread at him like the three gifts of the Wise Guys. Bah! In Old Country, one does not simply walk in and shove zucchini bread.
Vlad set loaves and fishes aside so he could free taloned hands to read proffered flyer.
He looked at flyer then looked at case worker.
“‘Whitby Stake Center’? Stakes?!? You tryink to kill me, Van Helsink?!?”
# # #
This piece was published in 2024 as part of the Holiday Lit Blitz by the Mormon Lit Lab. Sign up for our newsletter for future updates.
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