Santa Claus Conquers the Homophobes by Robert Devereaux Read Free Book Online

disapprove of. What a wondrous organ is the nose.”
    He paused to impale them on his glare and to set up, by silence, his next point, as a tennis player lofts his ball before serving it.
    “Mucus. Properly respected and unfingered, mucus has been designed, by God and his angels, to capture and conglomerate germs and bodily grit. Its tasteful removal is the function of the handkerchief, not the finger. Pray observe. I take a folded red kerchief from my back pocket. I shake it out. It is clean, notice. I double-fold it—no thin fabric shall expose these fingers to the accidental taint of distasteful liquid—then I drape it over one hand. Now I bring it to my nose and close one nostril as I blow the other clear, back and forth, like this.”
    Gregor gave two pronounced goose honks, followed by three short, quick ones, then wiped vigorously back and forth. The now-crumpled handkerchief he held before him like an offense.
    “Thus is it done. The soiled cloth now goes carefully back into the pocket and, once I reach home, into the hamper, to be replaced by a clean, freshly-folded one.”
    Master weaver Ludwig raised a hand. Gregor glared, refusing to acknowledge the questioner. Ludwig chimed in anyway: “But Gregor, where’s the harm? What matter whether handkerchief or finger removes the stuff so long as it’s removed? Did you really call us together for this?”
    Gregor reddened. “You see?” he said, cutting off Ludwig’s last word. “ That’s the attitude. Lax, lazy, insufficiently vigilant. Our master weaver picks his nose and eats what he has picked. Those same fingers, unwashed, take up the needle and handle bolts of cloth. Do you suffer under the illusion that Ludwig’s filthy nose products do not slime their way into his weave? What befouled toys does Santa place beneath children’s trees? Do you see? Do you see how pernicious and invasive an evil is spread by such acts? I tell you, my brother elves, we have devolved. This vile habit, which I have vowed to vanquish and to help all of you consign to the oblivion it deserves, cloaks some terrible truth about our past. Whatever its cause, this obscenity shall not stand. When I see it, I will call the offender on his folly. My brothers have vowed to do likewise.” Truth be told, fat Josef and Engelbert looked dubious. “Moreover, these meetings, to shame us and steel our resolve, shall continue until this scourge has been routed.”
    Herbert’s guilt hung like lead in his eyes. If only Gregor knew the half of it, thought Fritz, he would go apoplectic.
    “You have been put on notice. I expect this ungodly practice to cease. Spy on one another. Spy on your unworthiest selves. Report offenders at once to Engelbert, Josef, or me. We shall shame them into surrender, I swear upon my sacred honor.”
    And Gregor strode off, gesturing them back toward the dormitory. Amidst much murmuring, the elves took up the march, self-conscious now about their bodies. Gone the casual arm swing, the lax sway of hands alongside easy-breathing chests.
    Shame hung heavy about Fritz, and worse, he saw, about his friend Herbert. I should feel anger, he thought, anger at the grumpmeister’s bullying and at Herbert’s dismay.
    But all was shock and confusion within him.
    * * *
    Chuff, the Tooth Fairy’s lackluster youngest, sat forlorn in his least unfavorite spot, peering at the moon through a thicket of blighted trees halfway up the mountain’s west slope. The moon was cold and full and uncaring, its sheen the harsh, metallic glint in his brothers’ eyes when they sailed into him with tooth and claw.
    “If I could only have a sign,” he said to the moon, so softly that only the odd syllable came out. Nonetheless, he lofted his eyes upward and said, “Please, the smallest sign. Something to assure me there’s more to life than this.” Chuff winced at memories of beatings and railings, of bad children running from him in terror as he obeyed his worst instincts. Lately, his