Operation Naughty Read online

  Operation Naughty

  By Joany Kane

  Copyright 2013 Joany Kane

  All rights Reserved

  Natalie Griffin stands with her back to a white wall that features height measurements on it. Natalie, late twenties, is more than lovely, she's dazzling, even underneath the skanky skin tight clothes and hooker red lipstick. She's got one wicked grin that sets off a twinkle in her eyes.She holds an ID card that reads “8744591 Las Vegas Police Department.” She faces an unseen camera. A flash from the camera goes off. Once her mug shot has been taken, she turns left and walks away from the white wall.

  Jingles approaches the white wall and stands against it, his back to it. Jingles is without a doubt an elf. He sports a bright red and green ensemble, rosy cheeks and a dapper smile. Underneath his pointy hat lurks an Elvis Presley hair cut.

  Jingles holds an ID card that reads “8744592 Las Vegas Police Department.” A flash from a camera goes off. Once his mug shot has been taken Jingles turns left and walks away from the white wall.

  The third and final felon approaches the white wall…Santa Claus.

  Santa stands with his back to the wall and holds up an ID card that reads “8744593 Las Vegas Police Department.”

  A flash from a camera goes off. Once his mug shot has been taken, Santa, Jingles and Natalie are led to an interrogation room. The three sit on one side of a table facing a two-way mirror. A fluorescent light beams down on them.

  Detective Matt Houston, middle-aged, film noir slick, oozing urban snark, enters. He takes a seat across from the trio.

  “I know this is Vegas, but come on, even for us this is two miles past crazy. One of you care to enlighten me as to what went down?” The detective asks.

  Santa glances at his watch, a timepiece more techno than the flight panel on the space shuttle. “Can we give you the Reader's Digest version? It's Christmas Eve, we only have so much time to save Christmas and get our reindeer safely back to Santa's Land,” Santa explains to the detective.

  Jingles addresses his boss with deference. “Starting at the beginning, Santa sir, would shed much needed light on the validity of our actions. The statistical probability of the detective being empathetic towards our predicament is fifty seven point four percent higher than if you Reader's Digest him.”

  “What part of the beginning do you suggest?” Santa asks Jingles.

  Natalie interjects looking at Santa. “How about when I was sitting on your lap? I mean technically not your lap...”

  *****

  Flashback to the lobby of Cortland Enterprises, four nights before Christmas…

  The swanky lobby is decked out for Christmas with twinkling lights, red ribbons, silver and gold adornments. A grandiose Cortland Enterprises name plate hangs on a wall.

  A corporate office party is in full swing. About fifty men and women, dressed in white collar workday clothes, mingle about drinking cocktails from the open bar and nibbling on catered hors d'oeuvres.

  Off in an alcove Natalie sits on a man's lap. The man, Kyle, Natalie's age, is good-looking in a forgettable frat boy way. Kyle, wearing a fake white beard that hangs below his chin and a Santa hat, pretends to be the jolly ole elf.

  A couple of other guys, around the same age as Kyle and with the same kind of bland clean cut good looks, stand impatiently by waiting for their turn to be Santa. These dudes want Natalie on their lap and pronto.

  “So Natalie, are you going to tell Santa what you want for Christmas?” Kyle flirts.

  “Do you really care to know?” Natalie asks already knowing the answer but not caring either way.

  “You wanna know what Santa wants?” Kyle asks seductively.

  “You wanted me to sit on your lap. What more do you want?” Natalie replies while batting and rolling her eyes at the same time.

  “Santa wants a kiss.” Kyle leers at Natalie.

  “What's my motivation?” She asks.

  Kyle removes a swig of mistletoe from under the Santa hat. He dangles it over Natalie's head.

  Natalie shoots him a tease smile, she's not going to make this easy for him. She bats her eyes and turns up her infectious charm. “In order to give you a kiss you'll truly never forget, I need to wet my whistle first.” Natalie flirtatiously touches Kyle's nose. “How about you go fetch us a couple of cocktails.”

  Natalie hops off of Kyle's lap. Kyle stands up, completely under Natalie's spell. “I'll be right back,” he gasps.

  Allan, one of the guys waiting his turn to be Santa, grabs the beard, the hat - and the mistletoe - from Kyle. Allan takes a seat while hurriedly putting on the hat and beard, keeping the mistletoe in his hand. He pats his lap. “Ho, ho, ho, Natalie. Have a seat and tell Santa what you want for Christmas.”

  Natalie is preoccupied watching Gloria Cortland, a woman in her late thirties who oozes power and prestige. Gloria is surrounded by a gaggle of brown-nosing subordinates hoping to climb a wrung of the corporate ladder.

  “Who is that?” Natalie wants to know.

  “Seriously? You don't know who she is?” Allan asks.

  “I'm only a temp.” Natalie informs Allan.

  “That is Gloria Cortland.”

  “As in Cortland Enterprises? That Cortland?”

  “Yes. Our company is one of many that she owns. Across the country and the world.”

  “No wonder everyone is kissing her…” Natalie stops mid-sentence as her face lights up with a bright idea. She takes a seat on Allan's lap. She bats her eyes at him and turns up the charm. “You wanna know what I want for Christmas, Santa?” Natalie taps the mistletoe in Allan’s hand, leans in close and whispers in his ear.

  Moments later Allan sneaks up behind Gloria Cortland so as not to be seen by Gloria or the colleagues with her. He covertly tapes the mistletoe to Gloria's lower back, directly above her butt.

  Natalie gives Allan a thumbs up. Brian, one of the guys who had been waiting impatiently to play Santa, joins Natalie.

  “I think it's now my turn to be Santa.” Brian claims, his desire pretty darn evident.

  Natalie bats her eyes and lays on the come hither flirt. “I'd really love to sit on Santa's lap, but I don't think I could pucker up until I eat something.”

  “What would you like?” Brian asks.

  “Some shrimp, cheese puffs, a couple of Swedish meatballs.” Natalie replies.

  “I'll be right back.” Brian hightails it to the appetizer table.

  Kyle returns with the cocktails, hands one to Natalie.

  “Thank you.” Natalie says just before downing the drink. “Whoa. That had a kick.”

  “Is your whistle wet enough for that kiss you promised Santa?” Kyle wants to know.

  “Yes, but now I'm waiting for some snacks. I need protein to pucker properly.” Natalie informs Kyle.

  Nearby, Gloria has discovered the mistletoe on her back and questions Allan.

  Brian returns with a plate of goodies for Natalie. Natalie eyes the large Swedish meatball. “That meatball is almost as big as a baseball.”

  Her face lights up as if she's come up with another bright idea. “Kyle, don't you have a baseball trophy in your cubicle?”

  “Yeah, my college trophy. State Champs.” Kyle boasts.

  Natalie picks up the meatball. “Go long.”

  “That's football, but I get it.” Kyle hurries away from Natalie anticipating catching the meatball as if it were a baseball.

  Natalie winds up to throw the meatball to Kyle.

  Gloria Cortland, with a guilty-looking Allan tagging behind like a chastised puppy, storms towards Natalie.

  Natalie hurls the meatball.

  The meatball zooms through the air and…

  Nails Gloria right in the forehead!!

  Gloria glar
es at Natalie.

  Moments later two security guards usher Natalie out of the building.

  Natalie tries to plead her case. “It was an accident. Well, the mistletoe encouraging butt kissing wasn't but the meatball toss was.”

  Once they push her out of the building, the guards slam the door behind her.

  Natalie stands alone on the sidewalk. She begins her walk of shame away from the building. The street lamps, trees and storefronts are decorated for Christmas sparkling with holiday lights.

  Natalie stops to review a window display featuring Hermes - a brand new line of state-of-the-art, futuristic cell-phones, notebooks, laptops and variations of the three boasting the most powerful and fastest signal in the world. The caption reveals: THE FUTURE ARRIVES DECEMBER 24th.

  Amidst the display of high tech communications devices is a cardboard cut-out of the creator/founder of Hermes - Jasper Hoffman.

  Jasper, a few years older than Natalie, is captivating, mysterious, regally handsome, olde European exotic. His dark eyes fix on Natalie (even though he's inanimate.) For one who casts spells on the male population, this cardboard version of a man seems to be casting a spell on Natalie.

  It starts to snow, lightly. But only on Natalie and the area around the window display. Natalie notices the weird snow. “Whoa, what’s…”

  Natalie touches her brow as if she were dizzy. She goes weak in the knees. “Why is everything spinning? Man, I shouldn't have downed that drink so fast.”

  Just as Natalie is about to pass out and fall splat on the sidewalk, a small black sleigh, pulled by two reindeer, appears next to the sidewalk and parks a couple of feet from Natalie.

  Two elves, dressed in black covert attire, hop out of the sleigh, catch Natalie as she falls, throw her in the sleigh, hop back in and drive off.

  The black sleigh flies through the sky above the earth like an Audi on the Autobahn. The reindeer kick-ass with their flying skills. These beasts are powerful, muscular, imposing.

  The sleigh reaches the North Pole and descends for a landing. The sleigh heads directly for an immense glacial mountain of ice and snow as the Northern Lights dance in the sky. It appears that the sleigh is going to crash right into the side of the mountain.

  Inside the sleigh, Natalie is still unconscious, spread eagle in the back, drooling down her chin.

  One of the elves asks the other elf. “Think she has enough belief in magic?”

  “I really sincerely hope so,” the other elf responds.

  The elf in the driver's seat hits a button on what looks like a garage door opener as he aims the opener at the mountain.

  “Let's hope the door opens,” one of the elves states.

  Seconds before the sleigh will crash into the side of the snowy mountain, an entrance on the side of the mountain magically appears and the sleigh flies through it. Once the sleigh has made it safely through, the entrance closes.

  The sleigh glides above an enchanting, timeless village sparkling with thousands of Christmas lights. The architecture of the buildings is a mix of fairy tale and Harry Potter.

  *****

  Natalie, prone on a cot inside a jail cell, is just coming to. She sits up, rubs her head.

  Dudley, the elf sheriff, is seated on a stool just outside of the cell. He's dressed like he's seen one too many John Wayne movies.

  “Rise and shine, the clock is ticking.” Dudley calls.

  “Who are you and where am I?” Natalie asks.

  “You're in Santa's Land and I'm the sheriff.” Dudley replies.

  “Did Kyle put some kind of psychedelic in my drink?” She asks rubbing her head.

  “You're not tripping.” Dudley deadpans.

  “Then what's happening? Why am I locked up?”

  “You've been naughty.”

  “When did taping mistletoe to someone's butt become a felony?”

  “That is only one of your many naughty times.”

  “One of my many naughty times? You've been keeping score of my naughty times?"

  “You betcha. Contrary to the song, I'm the one who makes the list and checks it twice. Your list is pretty dang long.”

  Natalie stands up and approaches the cell bars - which aren't made of iron, they're made of candy canes.

  “These bars are candy canes.” Natalie states.

  “Give the girl a sugar plum.”

  “You know, I could very easily lick my way out of here.” Natalie teases laying on her charm.

  “Try it. Then where are you going to go, smarty pants?” Natalie looks down, that’s a very good question.

  One of the elves who kidnapped Natalie enters and joins Dudley. “He'll see her now.”

  Dudley unlocks the jail cell and lets Natalie out. “He'll see you now.”

  The black clad elf escorts Natalie out of the jail and into the magical, fairy tale like village.

  Natalie's eyes widen at the sight of Santa's Land. “Holy cow!”

  “The cows here are dairy and milked by the eight maids,” the elf informs Natalie.

  The elf hurries down the cobblestone sidewalk, Natalie scurries to keep up. The elf stops in front of Santa's bungalow. “We're here.”

  “Where?” Natalie asks.

  “Santa's house.” The elf opens the front door and motions for Natalie to enter. “Go on in, he's waiting for you.”

  Natalie doesn't move. The elf gives her a shove. Natalie stumbles in.

  Santa calls out. “Ho, ho, ho. Come on in, Natalie Griffin.”

  Natalie follows the voice into the living room. She sees Santa seated in a leather chair next to a lit up Christmas tree and a roaring fire in a fireplace. There's a snowglobe the size of a large screen television in a nook above the fireplace.

  Santa has a white beard and is wearing jeans, a flannel shirt and LL Bean boots.

  “Have a seat. Have a lemonade. You want some pizza?” Santa rattles off to Natalie. He motions to the pizza and to the pitcher of lemonade on the table near his chair.

  “Santa Claus.” Natalie says it, but doesn’t believe it.

  “The one and only,” he beams.

  “You drink lemonade?” Is all she can think to ask.

  “Thanks to you. Have a seat.”

  Natalie has a seat across from Santa. He pours her a glass of lemonade.

  Santa regales Natalie with some of her Christmas history. “For five Christmases in a row, when you were six, seven, eight, nine and ten you left me a to-go cup filled with fresh squeezed lemonade and a bag of those little carrots for the reindeers. I thought that was quite inspired. By the time I was done with the Mid-Atlantic states I was so sick of milk and cookies.”

  Santa munches on a slice of pizza - with gusto. He continues, “You stopped believing when you were eleven. No more lemonade, no more carrots. Dasher was particularly bummed.”

  “Why am I here?” Natalie is more than curious.

  “I need your naughty skills. To save Christmas.”

  “What naughty skills do I have that could save Christmas?”

  “You are catnip to men. Which in and of itself isn't naughty, it's how you have chosen to use your charms that put you on the bottom of my naughty list.”

  Santa hollers. “Jingles!”

  Jingles joins Santa and Natalie in the living room. He’s wearing blue suede shoes. “Yes, Santa sir.”

  “I'd like you to meet Natalie Griffin. Natalie, this is Jingles.”

  “Love the shoes,” she quips.

  “Jingles is my most trusted elf and your handler for the duration of Operation Naughty,” Santa shares with Natalie.

  Natalie giggles. “Operation Naughty?”

  Jingles huffs at Natalie’s frivolity. “With only somewhat due respect, naughty Natalie, this is a very serious situation and you are our last hope.”

  “How am I your last hope?”

  Jingles points a remote control at the snowglobe above the fireplace. He clicks the remote and Jasper Hoffman appears in the center of the snowglobe.


  “That's the Hermes guy. People are buzzing about him.” Natalie says.

  “He's way higher up the naughty list than you are.” Santa points out.

  “His new super fast signal interferes with the reindeers' radar. Santa will never be able to make his trip around the world unless the signal is changed.” Jingles tells Natalie.

  Santa adds, “My lawyers have tried to reason with Mr. Hoffman, but he refuses to change his signal. Even the nine ladies dancing couldn't sway Mr. Hoffman.”

  “The maids a milking probably could have.” Natalie teases. Not a smile from either Santa or Jingles.

  “Why don't you kidnap him and bring him here like you did to me? That would make him believe.” Natalie offers.

  “You need to already believe in order to see the magic and enter Santa's Land.” Jingles tells Natalie.

  “I don't believe, I'm here.” Natalie declares.

  “Deep down, Natalie, you still hope, wish and want magic to exist.” Santa says, with heartfelt sentiment. She looks away from Santa, she's too jaded to want to believe that what he has said may be true.

  “What exactly am I supposed to do?” She asks.

  “Woo him.” Santa states.

  “There's a ninety three point seven percent probability that your wiles could indeed influence him.” Jingles adds.

  “Did you pull that number out of your ass.” As Natalie says ass Jingles jingles his Christmas bells covering the word.

  “No, he didn't. You were specifically chosen. And with only days away, you are indeed our last hope to save Christmas, Natalie. You may not believe that you still have the belief inside, and Jasper Hoffman most definitely has lost sight of the belief in Christmas enchantment, but please think of the children around the world who do still believe.” Santa pleads.

  “I imagine you have a game plan.” Natalie responds.

  *****

  Inside the Santa’s Land Aviary, Natalie stands with Jingles looking at the glassed in bird sanctuary. The sanctuary features a large pear tree, gnarly branched trees, nesting grounds and a pond-like water feature. There are a bunch of various kinds of fowls and feathered friends frolicking in the sanctuary.

  Natalie counts the birds and fowls - there are seven swans a swimming, six geese a laying, four calling birds, three French hens, two turtle doves and a partridge in a pear tree.