Page 18 of Happy Krampus Xmas & the Meet Not Cute
“Sadist? I’m a Schadenfreude kind of guy.” He shrugs. Since he started college, if he isn’t studying or working, he’s buried in the library, reading whatever he can get his hands on while learning sophisticated words. It’s sort of funny to hear them in his strong Chicago accent. Funny and kind of sexy.
“Schadefuffde what?”
“Schadenfreude, it’s a German word, it means enjoyment obtained from the troubles of others.”
Ohhh, I like that, not when it’s aimed at me, though. “You’re a tosser. But I’ll let it slip because I need your help.”
He grumbles. “Fuck no. Last time I did was a few weeks ago and I ended up witnessing you forcing open a fire hydrant on that dude.”
“That dude was leering at my Gabe.” I shrug not in the least shameful about my actions.
“I got drenched as well!”
I stifle a laugh, sucking my lips in. He looked like a sewer rat. “Oops?”
“You and your petty revenges are toxic.”
“I’m not toxic! Krampus is, and I need to find a way to appease him.”
“I’m so going to regret this,” he breathes out, rubbing his face. “Who’s Krampus?”
I take a drink of my tea and scrunch up my nose. Chips and tea taste disgusting together.
“Krampus is a horned demon and brother of Santa Claus who is said to accompany the latter on visits to children. In this tradition, Saint Nicholas rewards well-behaved children with small gifts, while Krampus punishes badly behaved ones with his birch rod.” I grab my phone and start typing. “Where the fuck am I going to find a birch rod? In my fiancés’ pants?”
“Hold on a second. Why do you need a rod?”
“A birch rod,” I clarify.
“And what’s the connection with Krampus?”
“I non-accidentally summoned him when I was ten, and since then, the month of December is studded with unlucky events—as Gabe calls them. He’s a holds-a-grudge-forever kind of demon.” I clench my teeth thinking about my initiation attempts.
“So, you want to do what? Summon him again androdhim to death…birchrod him?” he corrects himself before I can.
“No, I want to put a halt to his diabolical curse!” I snap.
“Seriously, Lori, whatever you’re smoking has melted your brain.”
“I was born like this, thankyouveryfuckingmuch. Androddinga demon is ridonkulous.”
“Lori.” Spencer gives me a serious look while taking my hand for a moment. “This whole thing is ridonkulous.”
“Wanker! The birch rod is replaced with a whip in some representations of Krampus. That should be easier to buy. He also has a sack or a basket strapped to his back.”
“Why?” Spencer asks distractedly while glancing to his right.
“To cart off evil children for drowning, eating, or transporting to hell. I don’t think I’m going to need that.”
“He’s a charm. Why do you need to buy the tools he uses?” Spencer tosses the banana peel in the trash near the counter and takes the half-full pack of chips I left on the table.
“I have a plan.” I slide a piece of paper out of my Miu Miu suede Beau bag, and read. “First, the altar. I build an altar in my apartment all dedicated to him: bells, skulls, broken toys.” Bugger! Amazon won’t send the items in time. I need to go shopping. “Second, the spirit. I’ll embrace his dark essence bydressing like him and chant for him. Third, the sacrifice. I’ll give him agift, hoping he’ll stop haunting me.”
“I need to tell you that each one of those steps is very disturbing. How do you even know this creepy plan of yours will work?” Spencer pushes his back against the chair as he takes another sip from his Coke. His eyes go to his right again for a moment.
“Research. I’ve dived into the occult, black magic, and chatted with demon groupies. Some of them are nutters.” I had to pretend to be one of them on the dark web—Dare helped me getting inside the right places. It was truly bonkers to exchange messages with people who believe in grimoires, moon orgies, vampire encounters, and more. Oh, so much more.
My belief in Krampus is totally different, though. I have proof!
