Free fiction

Minister Thaddeus Plain drove his dusty black Ford pickup to a large ramshackle house on the outskirts of Sweet Downs in West Texas. It was Christmas Eve and, like the Magi of old, he came bearing gifts.

The minister didn’t have his own church anymore, preferring a life on the road so he could bring the good word to new flocks all over the state, sometimes even venturing into west Louisiana. But he didn’t like it much there. Too many papists and too much voodoo blasphemy. He preferred a simpler God. A New Testament God who spread love to those ready to receive it. Though, he had to admit, on occasion the God of the Old Testament had gotten the better of him and he’d brought the lord’s wrath down on the unworthy and unforgivable. Like that nosy highway patrol cop who wanted to search his truck outside of Midland. He’d shown the man the light and the way and left him in a broken in a drainage ditch ten miles from his patrol car sitting on the shoulder of the road with its lights still flashing.

But there’d be no vengeance tonight. It was the night before the Lord’s birth and Minister Plain was in a good mood as he got out of his truck and approached the Hardy family’s house.

The place wasn’t much to look at. In fact, he thought, it was kind of a shit pile, lord forgive his language. The white paint on the outside walls was as tattered and peeled as a lizard midway through shucking its skin. The house was the old kind that would have been quite a looker a generation ago. It had big widows, a wraparound porch, and turrets on each side of the roof. But the windows were cracked, the porch sagged as if it was going to collapse, and the turrets all hung askew, as if some giant hand had picked up the house and given it a good shake before dropping it back onto the dry dirt.

He left the truck by the side of the house near a large wooden shack. By the time he’d taken the paper bag out of the truck bed and headed for the Hardy house a woman was staring at him from behind the screened-in front door. Minster Plain smiled and tipped his hat as he approached. He went slowly so as not to spook the woman and have her run away. In town, he’d heard that the Hardy’s were a bit feeble minded. He’d had an uncle like that. Uncle Drexel. Friendly one minute, then terrified of his own shadow the next. The family worried they’d have to put him in a home somewhere, but where would they get the money? In the end God provided and the fool ran in front of a Texaco tanker truck as it pulled onto a feeder road while delivering gas to a local station. There was barely enough of Uncle Drexel to scrape off the pavement and pour into a pine box. Only six people came to the graveside service and two of those were the preacher and a lame gravedigger. It was Uncle Drexel who got the Minister interested in the feeble-minded. Not the drooling, playing with their own excrement kind, but those who didn’t understand what was best for them. He considered it his duty to set them on the right path.

As the he reached the bottom of the steps, the woman behind the screen door said, “Whatever you’re selling, we ain’t buying.” She wore an apron trimmed with pink ruffles and decorated with tiny blue birds. The apron should have been white, but it was gray with time, cheap soap, and bad water. Her gray hair looked like it hadn’t seen a brush in days. But she still looked formidable standing in the door, arms crossed, guarding her ancestral home.

“Mrs. Hardy I presume?” said Minister Plain.

She scowled at him. “It ain’t pronounced Hardy. It’s Ardy on account of my husband’s family from France in Europe.”

“It’s a very lovely name,” said the minister. “My name isn’t as melodious. It’s Minster Thaddeus Plain, Thaddeus, or just plain Thad to my friends.” It was simple lie, but an effective one. He’d changed his name so many times he could barely remember the real one some mornings when he was just rousing from sleep.

“Well, sir,” said the old woman, “We ain’t friends, so I’ll call you minister just long enough to tell you that whatever you’re selling or money you’re begging for, we’re not interested. It’s Christmas Eve and we got ourselves to look after.”

“I understand completely. That’s why I’m here. In town I’d heard that you’d seen hard times, so I brought you some canned goods to help out with your holiday meal.”

Mrs. Ardy didn’t open the door, but she uncrossed her arms, so she looked a little less fierce.

Perfect, he thought.

“Your name is Louise, isn’t it?” he said.

She nodded and said, “It is, if it’s any of your business. What kind of canned goods you got in that crumpled up old bag?”

Minister Plain chuckled. “I suppose it is a bit crumpled at that. You see I move around a lot bringing the good word to nice folks like you.”

“I asked what kind of cans you got.”

“Oh, all sorts of things. Stew. Carrots. Beans. Tinned beef. Even cranberry sauce.”

At that, the woman’s face relaxed. “Cranberries?” she said.

“Yes, ma’am. As red and sweet as anything the Lord ever gave us.”

She seemed to think for a minute. “I ain’t had cranberries since I was a girl.” Mrs. Ardy thought for a moment more. “I suppose you oughta bring the bag up and come inside. My knees’re not so good for getting up and down them rickety stairs these days.”

Minister Plain nodded and said, “That’s very kind of you, Louise. I’ll be right there.”

He went up onto the porch carefully as each step sagged a little and made a slight cracking sound as his foot touched it. When he made it onto the porch, Mrs. Ardy gave him a slight smile. “See what I mean about them steps?”

“Yes, ma’am. But I made it intact and with the goods undamaged. May I come in?”

“I suppose,” she said stepping to the side of the screen door, holding it open for him.

The door let into a large living room that he could tell had once been beautiful. But the house was as poor and ragged on the inside as it was on the outside. The place smelled like meat that had been left in the trash too long. Wallpaper hung in sheets from mildewed walls. Expensive carpets were faded and threadbare. Looking around, Minister Plain noticed the padded chairs and tables around the room were just as bad. But not everything was in such sad shape. A bright sterling silver tea service sat on a table against the back wall with large gold candlesticks nearby. Intricately detailed antique porcelain vases sat in a row along another wall.

I bet their knives and forks are sterling too.

The Ardys he decided were exactly as feeble-minded as he’d been told. The candlesticks alone could have brought them out of the squalor they lived in. And the tea set and the vases were just in one room. It meant there would be overlooked treasures in other rooms. Including the stash of old gold coins he heard were hidden somewhere in the house.

Minister Plain smiled again saying, “You have a lovely home, Louise,” but thinking No way I’m leaving this shack till I’ve ripped apart every floorboard and wall until I find that gold.

“I appreciate the kind words minister—”

He cut in. “Please call me Thad. All my friends do and now that I’m in your lovely abode I consider us something like friends.”

Louise thought for a moment and shook her head. “No. I like minister better. You don’t dress like no Thad. And anyway, it’s disrespectful to call a man of the cloth by his first name.”

“As you wish, Louise.” He shook the bag of canned goods. “Should we take a peek at this bounty?”

“The kitchen’s this way. It’s not as tidy as the parlor on account of my back, so don’t go judging us none.”

“Judgment is the Lord’s work not mine, so don’t you worry yourself one bit.”

“Come on then.”

The short hall was as rundown and seedy as the rest of the house, but fine oil landscapes of France adorned the walls, while Sabino glass figurines glittered in an alcove.

A wave of heat slapped Minister Plain back a step when he made it into the kitchen. An old gas stove stood on one side of the room with several pots boiling and simmering all at once. Other pots and cast iron skillets hung from nails in the wall. A butcher block on the counter was lightly stained with blood. He wondered if they’d pooled their meager cash and bought cheap scraps from some backwoods butcher. Or maybe they slaughtered their own animals. But he hadn’t heard any sheep bleats, moos, or even clucks when he’d parked the truck, just the rustling of the wind through a dry, half-picked cornfield. As much as the place repelled him, Minister Plain had to admit that it smelled like Heaven. Loise must have had some hidden talent as a cook, something she probably picked up from a French in-law or cousin. It was something to ask about. A friendly, homey question to set Louise and the man at the kitchen table at ease.

The man at the table wore an old red Pendleton shirt rolled up to the elbows. His hair was a white and unkempt at Louise’s. He held a hand rolled cigarette in yellow nicotine-stained fingers. Minister Plain set the bag of groceries on the table and smiled down at the man.

Louise walked directly to the stove to check on the various pots and, without turning around, said, “This is Minster Plain, Tanner. He brought us a mess of canned goods from his church.”

Tanner took a puff of his cigarette and said, “We’re not moneyed folks if that’s what you’re looking for, preacher.”

“No, sir. Not at all,” said Minister Plain.

“I told him all that,” said Louise. “He said the goods was free.”

Tanner didn’t seem impressed. “We got to go to a service or something to warrant such a consideration? We ain’t churchgoing people either.”

Minister Plain began unloading the cans from the bag and said, “No, sir. In fact, these days my truck is my church, so I can move about the state meeting nice folks like you.”

“Well, if there’s no holy rolling or swindling involved, then welcome in our home,” Tanner said. He stood and gave Minister Plain a surprisingly firm handshake for a man so thin and worn out looking. But Plain knew from experience that the feeble-minded were often stronger than they appeared. Having no self-control, they were just as likely to crush a puppy to pulp as to pet it.

As Minster Plain emptied the rest of the cans from the bag, Tanner reached across the table to inspect each one. Like he’s judging a prize pig at the county fair, thought Minster Plain. He couldn’t help but shake his head.

“You find them cranberries?” said Louise coming over from the stove. Tanner held a can up for her. Her face broke into a wide grin at the sight of it.

As she took it from him she said, “Ain’t that a glorious sight? I want to open it right now, forget about the rest of supper, and gobble the whole thing.” She and Tanner laughed, so Minister Plain laughed with them.

“Do it if you like,” he said. “All these goods are yours to do with as you wish.”

Louise went back to the stove and set the cranberries on the counter. “I’ll open them later when we’s closer to dessert. I suppose you’ll staying for supper, minister?”

He held up his hands in mock humility. “Oh no, Louise. I wouldn’t dream of imposing on you good people on the night of our Lord’s birth.”

“Nonsense,” said Louise. “You done us a turn, so it’s only right we do you one too.”

“Well, if it’s no trouble—”

Tanner laughed and said, “Look at her, preacher. On holidays she cooks enough for the whole county when it’s just us two has to choke it all down.”

“Oh you,” said Louise tossing a dish cloth playfully at Tanner. He caught it and looked at Minister Plain. “See what I have to put up with?”

These feebs disgusted him with their dull eyes and gray teeth, but Minister Plain wound up a smile for them. “You look like a lucky man from where I sit, Mr. Ardy.”

Dropping the cloth onto the table, the old man said, “Oh hell, just call me Tanner.”

“All right Tanner. And what a fine name it is.”

Tanner nodded. “I’m named for my great-great-grandad over in France. They bought hides from all the local farms and tanned the leather over there so we were tanners here too until the law got uppity about it.”

“How so, Tanner?”

“Now, don’t getting him wound up about old business,” said Louise. She removed two large skillets from the stove and the smell of sizzling steaks filled the room.

“I’m not getting wound up none, Lou. Just answering the preacher’s question.” Tanner crushed out the remains of his hand roll in an old ashtray with a feed catalog logo on the side. “You see, the sheriff and his sons of bitches from town came around our tanning set up and said we was using skins from rustled cattle.”

“What a terrible thing to say,” said Minster plain. “A cruel accusation.”

Tanner swung his head from side to side and said, “I expect it was. I also expect the sheriff was right about them cattle, but whose goddamn business was it of his to come all the way from town and shut us down? We didn’t rustle them cows. We just took the hides off them that done the rustling.”

Now Minster Plain understood how these two simpletons had good meat. They bought it fresh off the cattle thieves. He looked at Tanner sympathetically and said, “It’s sad how the law so often pokes its nose into things that good folks could work out on their own.”

Tanner slapped his hand down on the table and said, “Exactly! Say, you’re not so dense for a preacher.”

“Why thank you, Tanner.”

“Stop yammering you two and push them cans out of the way. Supper is ready to go,” said Louise.

Tanner and Minister Plain stacked the cans at the far end of the kitchen table and Louise brought over plates piled high with snap beans, mashed potatoes, and thick steaks.

“Good lord, Lou,” said Tanner. “You outdone yourself this year.”

“Hush,” she said. “Maybe I had a premonition of company so went a ways more than typical.”

“Well, it all smells and looks delightful, Louise,” said Minister Plain, and he meant it. As much as the house and these people repelled him, their food seemed first rate.

 At least they’ll get a good last meal.

Minster Plain extended his hands to them and said, “Shall we say grace?”

The old folks nodded and each took a hand Minister Plain’s hands in theirs.

“We thank you, Lord Jesus on the night of your birth for this food and these good people who opened their home to me, a simple traveler. Amen.”

Minister Plain held the Ardys hands a moment longer expecting their amens to follow his. Instead, Tanner raised their hands up high and said, “Once again, on this night every year, we thank you flying saint, eternal provider, and guide—Santa Claus. Praise be.”

“Praise be,” said Louise, and the two old people released their hands.

As the two half-wits tucked into their food, Minister Plain sat and stared. In all his years he’d never heard something so addle-brained or blasphemous, and he’d once been to Houston. As much as he wanted the gold and these fools dead and out of the way, he was still a man of God. Killing them now would mean their eternal damnation because the lord didn’t give hoot if you were a smart book read-type or soft brained idiots like this. You didn’t praise him when he wanted you to his wrath would be swift and unmerciful. These blockheads’ feet were already halfway in the lake of fire, but he was certain he could pull them back from doom.

Louise and Tanner dug into their food like hungry children, all elbows and quiet snorts as they gobbled their suppers down. Minister Plain took a few polite bites of his beans and potatoes. The meat, when he cut into it, was soft and buttery. And when he bit into it, he almost took the Lord’s name in vain it was so good. As much as he wanted to get down to the business of saving and  killing the Ardys, he couldn’t stop eating until half his steak was gone. Finally, he got hold of himself, shook off the taste of the meal and set about his business.

He said, “It’s fun to talk about Santa at this time of year, isn’t it?”

“It sure is,” said Tenner through a full mouth.

“Praise be,” said Louise.

“But we all know that Santa is for children,” Minister plain went on. “A simple joy that we give little ones. Not something we give thanks to like God on high.”

Tanner nodded and laughed. “You hear that, Lou? The preacher here is teaching us how Santa ain’t real.”

Louise shook her head. “Poor man.”

Minster Plain put his hands on the table. “You can’t possibly believe in those kiddie stories. It isn’t right.”

“Isn’t real. Isn’t right he says,” said Louise.

Tanner set down his knife and fork and looked at Minister Plain. “You saying you don’t believe. Ain’t that right, preacher?”

“How can I? To believe in such a thing is to spit in God’s eye.”

Tanner went to a sideboard and came back with a bottle of whiskey. “Have a drink we us and we’ll toast to God. Then after, I’ll show you for sure Santa’s real.”

Louise passed him a glass with a more than generous amount of whiskey in it. Minister Plain said, “I’m not really a drinking man.”

“Oh, come now,” said Louise. “We’re toasting to the lord’s good health. Surely he’d be disappointed if you didn’t join us.”

“When you put it that way, how can I say no?” Minister Plain picked up his glass and toasted his hosts.

He coughed once, then sputtered as the whiskey burned all the way down his gullet. For a moment he couldn’t breathe and Louise had to come over and slap him on the back until the liquor was all the way down in his throat.

Tanner grinned at him. “You sure was telling the truth when you said you weren’t a drinking man. And here I was giving you our best.”

Of course, these feebs like rotgut. I should have known.

He blamed himself for playing along with their stupid game and was half-tempted to pull the lead shot-filled sap from his jacket or the knife from his boot and finish these fools right then and there. But before he could decide, Tanner stood up and said, “Come on back to the parlor and we’ll show you just how real Santa is.”

Minister Plain was still coughing a little and knew he wasn’t in any shape to tackle Louise, let alone a fool as strong as Tanner. He’d go with them and wait for his head to clear. Then he’d do it. Damn their poisonous souls to the reddest, hottest frying pan the devil could conjure.

In the living room, Tanner went to a set of dusty bookshelves, took down a photo album and sat down on a grimy sofa. Setting the album down on a coffee table near the empty fireplace he said, “Set yourself down and get educated, preacher.” Minister Plain went over and sat down next to the man smelling old tobacco and a body that could do with a bath.

Tanner flipped through the book, passing ancient photo that looked like they’d been taken at least a century before. Finally, he found what he was looking for. “There’s your proof. What do you think of that, holy man?”

Tanner slid the album to the minster’s side of the table and tapped the photos with a calloused finger. “Those were took, well, I don’t know how long ago. Maye by my grandpa or maybe great-grandpa. You know, Lou?”

She shook her head. “Naw. I didn’t know your folks back then. You and I weren’t together till years later.”

“You’re right. Anyway, preacher, how do you like picture proof you ain’t all that smart after all?”

Minister Plain touched the yellowed old photos with his fingertips. When he was done with one page, he flipped it and went to the next. Page after page were photos of the Ardy family with a fat man in a Santa suit. Shots of him giving toys to the children and wrapped gifts to the adults. There were some silly ones with family members sitting on Santa’s lap and kissing his round cheeks.

This is the kind of trash Uncle Drexel would have loved, he thought and his stomach, which was already queasy with the rotgut, tightened with anger as he contemplated the sort of demented minds and twisted souls it would take to believe such trash.

They’re pathetic. Animals who need putting down.

Pushing the album away, he tried to keep his voice low even as he felt the Old Testament God rising up from inside him. “You folks really believe all this do you?” he said.

Tanner tapped the album again. “The proof’s right in front of you. I reckon you’re the one who can’t see it.”

Pushing the album away, Minister Plain said, “It’s just some fool dressed up like it’s Halloween or some such nonsense. He’s not Santa Claus because there is no Santa Claus!” His voice got away from him at the end and he regretted it. But if the Ardys noticed they didn’t let on.

“You’re the one who don’t understand,” said Louise. “Your type never does.”

Minister Plain was annoyed that the rotgut wasn’t just rumbling his stomach anymore and was beginning to make his head spin. “What do you mean your type?” he said.

Tanner clapped a big hand on the minster’s shoulder. “People like you. Preachers. Law men. Traveling salesmen from the city. Big thinkers who suppose they know more than folks like us. Like they know everything.”

“But they don’t know nothing about the real world,” said Louise.

Tanner kept his hand on Minster’s Plain’s shoulder and squeezed it. “Should we enlighten him?”

“It ain’t midnight yet, but I suppose the old elf wouldn’t mind making an early appearance for a man of God.”

“Amen to that,” said Tanner. The friendly squeeze on the Minister Plain’s shoulder became more aggressive as Tanner gripped the fabric of his coat and pulled him. “On your feet, preacher. Revelation awaits.”

Minster Plain didn’t budge from the sofa. He knew from Tanner’s tone that he was about to get rough even before the man pulled on his jacket. He pushed Tanner’s hand away and got to his feet, head spinning and legs wobbly. The Ardys just laughed at him. He thought of the rotgut and something came to him. “You put something in my whiskey, you bastards.”

That set the Ardys to laughing even harder.

“It just seemed like the right thing to do,” said Louise. “We thought it might settle you down a bit so you could see the truth in front of your damn eyes. It’s worked on other folks. Helped them see the truth in them photos.”

“But you was too stubborn or boneheaded to see,” said Tanner.

Boneheaded.

The word set something off in inside him. Hearing the word from these feebs finally brought forth the God of Wrath. As Tanner reached for him again, Minister Plain pulled out the sap and swung it at him. But he missed and hit Louise on the side of the head, sending her tumbling down onto the stone fireplace.

Tanner lunged at him and grabbed the arm holding the sap and wrenched it away from him. Minister Plain stagger back pretending he was about to fall but pulled the knife from his boot. When Tanner lunged again, he swung the blade wide, slashing deep into the old man’s arm and across his chest. Tanner fell back against the sofa and Minster Plain jumped at him, swinging the knife down in an arc. But Tanner rolled out of the way and kicked him in the chest, sending him staggering back against the mantle over the fireplace. He took a step forward to go for Tanner again, but Louise grabbed his leg from the floor, throwing him off balance. He swung around and planted a boot in her gut, and she lost her grip. He turned back to Tanner, but the old man was already up and had the sap in his hand. Minister Plain felt something smash into his left temple. The sound inside his head was something like a heavy object hitting a sack of oatmeal. Minister Plain took one step to the side and the world went black.

 

He floated somewhere far away, running his fingers though bright piles of gold, letting coins fall through to tinkle like Christmas bells as they hit one another below. It was bliss. It was right. It was his.

 

As he came to sometime later, Minister Plain smelled burning wood. His head ached and it was hard to open his left eye. When he’d roused himself he looked around, alarmed by the burning smell. But there were no flames. He was in the old shack he’d seen when he parked his car. The split 55 gallon drum oven across the room and the meat hooks hanging from the rafters overhead told him he was in a smoking shed. A large canvas bundle hung on the far wall. At the sight of the saws and knives on a butcher block nearby, he panicked and tried to shout, but nothing came out but a ruffled wail.

Those feebs gagged me, he thought with equal parts of fear and fury. He tried standing, but his arms and legs were tied to a solid wooden chair. The ropes bit into his flesh as he tried to work from them. Then he heard a rustling.

Tanner’s voice came to him. “I think Mr. Know It All’s finally awake.”

The old couple came around and stood before him grinning. Both wore heavily stained leather aprons and mail butcher’s gloves.

“Hi, sleepyhead,” said Louise. “That was quite a wallop you gave me back in the parlor. But I forgive you. You were out of sorts at the time.”

“And you being out so long worked in all our favor. It’s midnight. Time for Santa to make his appearance,” said Tanner.

Minister Plain grunted at them.

“Take that silly gag off him,” said Louise. “It was only so’s you didn’t try to bite us while we trussed you up”

Tanner went behind him and untied the gag. Minter Plain moved his jaw a few times, trying to work feeling back into it.

“Feel free to scream to high Heaven if you like. There’s no one round these parts for miles,” Louise said.

Going back to her, Tanner yelled, “Help! Help! Oh lord, save me!” at the top of his lungs. When he was done he cupped a hand to one ear and then the other. “You hear anything, preacher? The law? A nosy neighbor? No, it’s just us folks right here.”

“You feeble-minded fools don’t know the wrath you’re bringing down on yourselves.”

“You mean God?” said Louise.

“He ain’t made an appearance all night,” Tanner said. “But you ain’t paid attention to a thing have you? Your God doesn’t come round these parts.”

Nodding, Louise said, “This is Santa country.”

“There is no Santa Claus,” shouted Minister Plain.

“I showed you the pictures,” Tanner shouted back at him.

He shook his head.

There’s no reasoning with backwoods cretins like this. Stop fighting and go along with them.

 Minister Plain spoke calmly and quietly. “All right then. Let’s see this Santa of yours. You said he’s here right? Well, it’s time for him to show himself.”

“Are you blind?” said Tanner.

Louise laughed and said, “You’re looking right at him.”

Scowling, Minister Plain said, “Who? Tanner?”

“No, you fool,” Tanner said swatting him on the side of the head. For a moment, Minister Plain swooned and almost passed out. But he managed to get a grip on himself in time to see Louise go to the canvas bundle on the wall.

“Behold the old elf himself. Santa Claus,” she said and pulled the canvas down.

And Minister Plain screamed.

“Oh lord. Oh, sweet Jesus what have you bastards done?”

Secured to the wall with thick manacles was an old man with a ball gag in his mouth. He had a long white beard that had turned almost black from years of filth and wood smoke. The man had been fat once, but now looked staved. Flesh hung from his arms and one remaining leg. His big belly sagged down so far it covered his private parts.

“Who is that poor soul?” said Minister Plain.

Tanner cuffed him again. “Goddamn you, preacher. You know exactly who it is.”

“That poor man in those photos you showed me? You said your granddaddy took those.”

“Probably great-grandpa,” said Tanner thinking it over.

“It can’t be the same man,” said the minster.

“Of course it’s the same feller,” said Louise. She poked the starving man with her finger and said, “Tell him who you are.” But all the filthy man could do was move his eyes frantically back and forth.

Tanner said, “You’re probably wondering how a man in them photos eighty or more years old is still hanging around our smoke house. That’s because he ain’t no man.”

“Santa’s above us regular folks. He’s an immortal,” said Louise. “Who knows how old the feller is.”

Tanner picked up a hacksaw from the butcher block and went to the old man on the wall. “Seeing as how he’s immortal and can’t or won’t die no matter what you do to him, no matter how much you take oof him it just grows back.”

“We’ve been dining on the old elf for as long as I’ve been part of the family,” Louise.

“It makes us healthy and strong,” said Tanner and he crooked his arm to make a muscle. “That steak you had tonight come from that missing leg. While it grows back, we’ll have the other leg or maybe an arm next.”

“You feeble-minded fucks,” growled Minister Tanner.

This time Louise slapped him. “That’s no way for a minster to talk, especially in front of a wonder like Santa Claus.”

Minister Plain started to shout at them, but his stomach knotted up. “You fed me that man’s flesh?”

“Sure did,” said Tanner. “And don’t tell me you ever had a better steak sweeter in this whole world.”

Leaning to one side in his chair, Minister Plain vomited on the floor. The Ardys frowned at him.

“I just cleaned in here,” said Louise. “I’ve half a mind to lie you down and make you lick all that up.”

“Now, Lou. It’s Christmas. Let’s ease on him a wee bit. The preacher’s got quite an education tonight. It’s natural he’s a bit out of sorts.”

“Still,” said Louise folding her arms in front of her.

The old man on the wall moaned and Tanner held the saw to his face. “Hush you. You’re ain’t going nowhere and you ain’t part of this conversation.”

Minster Plain whispered a prayer to God to end this madness and deliver him from this place and his sins. He waited for a sign, but nothing happened.

Tanner slapped the belly of the man on the wall and it jiggled a little. “Jiggled a lot more years ago,” he said. “But we ain’t fed him for a time. You feed him too much, he gets too strong to handle. So, we have to starve him a bit. Take a leg an arm or cooking lard from the belly and leave him be till he grows back again.”

Louise said, “If you thought tonight’s meat was good, you should taste him when he’s been fed. The flesh melts like honey in your mouth.”

Minster Plain spat some last bit of vomit onto the floor. “I swear to all that’s holy, I’m going to kill both of you.”

Tanner laughed and waved the saw back and forth. “You’re not the one’s going to doing any killing tonight.”

Louise picked up a long butcher knife from the block and began cutting away Minister Plain’s clothes.

He tried to wrench away from her but she grabbed him and said, “Hold still, you fool or I’m likely to cut off something important.”

When his clothes were gone and he was naked as the baby Jesus, Minster Plain tried to find a prayer to say to the New Testament or Old testament God, either would do. But he couldn’t find the words. All he could muster was, “The devil is waiting for you. He’s getting a cook fire blazing just for the two of you.”

“Cook fire. That’s a funny thing to say, preacher,” said Tanner. “Cause you’re the one who’s going to see a cook fire long before us. Old Santa over there’s got to eat.” He turned to Louise. “Can you take care of this fool’s truck?”

She dug around in the minster’s clothes until she found his keys. “Be back in two shakes of a lamb’s tail,” she said.

As she left, Tanner set the hacksaw on Minister Plain’s lap so he could put the gag back in his mouth. The minster cursed and shook this way and that, but Tanner was too strong and soon the cloth was back in his mouth and tied it securely behind his head.

Outside, Louise drove Minister Plain’s pickup truck deep into the cornfield where it couldn’t be seen from the road.

Tanner had already sawed off one of Minster Plain’s legs and was feeding it to Santa when she got back. The minster shrieked and thrashed about in his chair, but all that came out through the gag were shrill grunts.

 

Minister Plain’s visioned narrowed as the pain of his lost limb made his whole body shiver. He froze one second, then boiled the next. He knew his brain couldn’t make sense of what was happening, but he held firm. He wasn’t going to go out insane like these fools. But his strength faded as his blood pooled on the dirt and wood splinters on the floor. The last thing he saw before he lost consciousness were six gunny sacks lying like garbage in a corner of the room by a pile of old newspapers and seed catalogs used for kindling. One of the sacks had split a seam and through the opening Minister Plain could see gold glittering in the dim smokehouse light.

Feeble bastards he thought as the black closed in on him.