The Man in the Lobster Mask

Nick was certain the yellow bungalow was the right place, but he checked his crumpled note again – and then again – and swallowed a lump. It had only been a week since he last saw Darlene, but it felt like a lifetime ago.

He straightened his tie, sniffed his bouquet of roses, and patted his box of chocolates. Then he walked up to the drain pipe, scampered onto the roof, and dove down the chimney.

He rolled out the fireplace and right into the living room, where with a practiced kick and tuck, he somersaulted to standing, right in front of a bleary-eyed woman in bathrobe and curlers.

“Darlene!” he said, thrusting the flowers and chocolates into her arms, and knocking her mug of coffee to the carpet. “I can’t stop thinking about you! I think I love you!”

He swept her into his arms and pulled her into a kiss, just as magical as the first one they shared a week prior, in this very spot, under the mistletoe and illuminated by the magical twinkling lights of the Christmas tree.

They startled each other when she walked in on him working, and their eyes met. She brushed the cookie crumbs off his beard with the most delicate fingers in the world, and fell into his arms as though she had always belonged there. Their kiss lasted a second – or an eternity – and Nick might have stayed there forever if his ride hadn’t been stomping around impatiently on the roof, carving divots with its hooves. Duty called and he left her then, but his heart already knew what his mind hadn’t figured out yet – he’d be back. He’d finally found what he didn’t even realize he was looking for.

This kiss was just as magical as the first.

Except… it wasn’t. The Christmas tree was a week gone. Quickly cooling coffee was making a wet mess of his pant leg. And Darlene didn’t seem to be into it. The whole thing felt like kissing a reindeer caught in the headlights, and besides, she tasted of tobacco and bourbon.

“Darlene,” said Nick, pulling back. “Are you all right?”

Darlene dropped the flowers and chocolates and screamed. She pushed Nick back into the mantle, and then she screamed louder.

Suddenly a man ran in from an adjoining room. At first worried, he snarled when he spotted Nick. Given his size, muscles, and hairiness, Nick was reminded of a polar bear.

“Oh, shi–” was all he managed, before the bear man punched Nick’s head through the drywall.

When he came to, things were mostly a blur. He was ushered from cell to desk to cell, barked at by uniforms and monotoned at by a public defender. His mind knew he should have paid more attention – breaking and entering was his least charge – but all his heart could focus on was breaking. That, and the splitting headache.

A bathroom mirror revealed the whole right side of his face was swollen. And right there, along his forehead, was the imprint of a ring the bear man wore. Unassailable proof that Darlene was married.

Could the magical miracle Christmas kiss have been mistaken? Was he a fool for dreaming up a soulmate from a single impulsive interaction?

He felt like a rag worn down to its last threads.

Then things got more complicated when his public defender realized Nick wasn’t even a citizen.

“Jeez, that’s way above my pay grade. You better contact your embassy.”

A phone call and some string-pulling later, Nick found himself in the spacious mahogany office of ambassador Sprinkles McTinselmuffin.

Sprinkles spun around in his leather chair and slammed his glass so hard his whisky spilled everywhere and the bells on his hat and shoes jingled.

“What the hell are you doing to me, Nick?”

“I’m sorry, Sprinkles. I messed up.”

“We’re in the middle of incredibly sensitive trade negotiations with the Americans! I can’t have you bumbling it all up!”

“I’m sorry.”

“The North Pole needs American cobalt! You get that, right? Our agriculture sector’s future depends on it! What happened with you anyway?”

Nick swallowed hard, and looked at the tiger-skin rug adorning the floor. “I fell in love.”

“Oh, for cookies’ sake.” Sprinkles sighed, then lit a cigar.

“She’s the most amazing woman I’ve ever met,” said Nick.

“Is this that toe kissing broad you told me about?”

“Mistletoe, yeah.”

“Yeah, well,” Sprinkles said, bathing his desk in smoke, “given your laundry list of charges, she don’t sound so great to me.”

“She is! Only… I don’t know what happened. It’s like she didn’t even recognize me.”

“You were read the riot act is what happened. A purple and green face doesn’t really synergize with your red uniform – you get me?”

Nick nodded.

“Best you forget her. Guys like you and me, we marry our jobs. You want to have a bit of fun and get your chestnuts roasted? Go down to the docks like any other self-respecting elf. And forget about this love nonsense.”

Nick frowned down at the rug again.

“Now listen,” said Sprinkles. “I can make this problem go away. The chief of police owes me. But in exchange, you gotta do something for me.”

“What’s that?”

“It’s the Plumbers’ Annual Holiday Masquerade next week – I don’t need to remind you this is the biggest charity event of the year – and I’m on the hook for providing a handsome bachelor for the bachelor auction.”

“No.”

“And my cousin, Dimples Cheeryfrolick, fell off the wagon again – on the wagon? Whatever.”

“Forget about it!”

“So you’ll take his place.”

“Not going to happen,” said Nick, crossing his arms.

Sprinkles shrugged. “That or twenty-to-life.”

Ultimately, Nick agreed. The masquerade was at the famous Caraway Imperial Hotel, and the palatial conference room transformed into a breathtaking ballroom with a chequered floor, three dozen industrial chandeliers, and a tasteful assortment of sponsor advertisements plastering the walls. The guests were just as extravagant, though they treated it as a regular costume party instead of a mask-on-stick affair.

Nick dressed up as a lobster, the red shell affording comfort against the stomach befluttering auction.

“Crowd’s looking lively,” said Sprinkles, peeking through the curtains to the stage. He came dressed as a frat boy, but claimed it was a “Roman senator.”

“I can’t do this,” Nick said, swallowing bile. “Crowds make me nervous.”

“You’re kidding, right? You? The guy that visits literally everyone on the planet each year?”

“Yeah, but not all at once.”

Sprinkles shook his head. “I had no idea. Whatever, don’t worry about it. All you have to do is stand there and shake your money maker.”

Nick wrung his hands, and then Sprinkles shouted “It’s go time!” and slapped him on the carapace, and suddenly Nick stumbled onto the stage.

“Ladies and gents,” shouted the auctioneer, “rev up your wallets, because our next entrée is Naughty Nick!”

The crowd roared, streamers filled the air, and the synth of Haddaway’s What is Love beat like a heart beneath it all. And all around Nick was a sea of cheering monsters. And appliances. And food items. And a pencil crayon, and a sexy nurse, and a frog. There was even a ghost and a pumpkin.

It’s Hallowe’en – in January, he thought. The absurdity unknotted the tension in his shoulders.

He shifted his weight once, and again faster. Thrust his hip out and snapped his claws. Started dancing to the crowd’s whooping. They were into it. He was into it. He grinned. Maybe this was okay, as far as favours went.

“Look at those swimmerets shake!” the auctioneer called. “I feel my water boiling – how about you?” The crowd whistled. “Excellent! Let’s start the bidding at two dollars!”

Nick almost fell off the stage under the weight of his sudden scowl. The bidding shot to $3.25, and then $4.00, and even $5.50. So it went, creeping ever closer to the heady heights of $10.00. Nick didn’t wake up that day, thinking he was worth only ten dollars, but now he prayed with all his being that he’d be worth at least that much. He jigged and jazzed and twerked with all his might.

Then a flamingo raised her auction paddle and announced, “One thousand.”

The crowd gasped, and the music stopped. The flamingo, under her sequined pink demi-mask, smirked.

“Two thousand,” said an astronaut, one hand resting severely on her hip.

Nick’s knees almost gave out. The crowd cleared away from the two bidders, nobody wanting to get caught in the crossfire. Dead silence rang, except for a single party-goer dressed as a tumbleweed, dashing for safety with squeaky shoes.

The auctioneer licked his lips. “Do I hear–”

“Three thousand,” said the flamingo.

“Four thousand!”

“Five!”

“Six!”

The flamingo snarled. “Seven thousand.”

Excitement bubbled through the crowd, and the flamingo crossed her arms with utmost smugness. All eyes fell on the astronaut.

The astronaut tapped her foot, deep in thought. She studied both her rival and Nick – especially Nick.

“Ten thousand,” she finally said.

“Ten thousand and one!” screamed the flamingo.

“Twenty thousand,” said the astronaut with finality.

The auctioneer covered his mouth to keep from swearing into the mic.

“Whoo boy,” Nick mumbled. His forehead was sweating under his mask. Twenty large. What would he have to do for the winner, to warrant that kind of a donation?

The flamingo sputtered with frustration. A large man in a polar bear mask approached her and whispered something. Whatever it was, she didn’t want to hear it. She shoved him back into the crowd.

“I’m prepared,” said the flamingo, “to double that.” At this point the polar bear man clutched his head in misery. “But first, I want to see who the man beneath the lobster is.”

“Do it,” hissed the auctioneer. “Take off the mask! It’s forty grand!”

Nick gulped. Forty grand indeed. Well, what was one night of being treated like a commodity? At least he wasn’t in prison. And besides, it was for charity. He was nothing, if not a giving man. With a heavy exhalation, Nick removed his mask.

Everyone gasped again, but nobody more loudly than the flamingo. She also removed her mask, revealing none other than Darlene.

Nick’s heart skipped a beat. What were the odds? This had to be fate. They did belong together. It was a Christmas miracle! Well, a January miracle anyway.

But his growing grin was garrotted by her glower.

“It’s you!” she hissed, her spittle flying, her trembling finger leveled at him.

Okay, so maybe ‘miracle’ was a strong word.

“It is you,” said the astronaut. Her helmet hit the ground with a dull thud. And this time, even Nick joined the crowd in the gasping, for beneath her mask was none other than–

“Darlene!” Nick said. He looked from one Darlene to the other, not believing his eyes, but both women were identical – except the flamingo was furious, and the astronaut was smiling. “Two Darlenes! But how?”

“Buffoon!” sneered the flamingo. “Darlene is my half-witted twin sister – which is still a full quarter wit more than you!”

“And Arlene,” said Darlene, “is my bitter shrew of a twin sister, forever jealous of everything and the moon.”

“Oh ho!” muttered Sprinkles, poking his head out from behind the stage curtain. “You didn’t say it was twins, Nick ol’ boy.”

“Shut up,” Nick hissed. “I didn’t know.”

Sprinkles wiggled his brow luridly.

Arlene scoffed and crossed her arms. “Now I see what’s going on. Darlene, you really know how to pick them. Did you know that this is the pervert that threw himself at me and kissed me?”

Another gasp from the crowd.

“Nick!” said Darlene. “Is this true? You kissed my sister?”

“I, um–”

“I thought we had something special!”

“We do! We definitely do! I didn’t mean to kiss her. It was all a mistake.”

“A mistake? How do you kiss my sister, ‘by mistake?’”

“Er, well, it’s just you two look so much alike–”

Both sisters arched an eyebrow so severely it murdered all sound.

“The devil did you just say?” asked Arlene. “Me, look like her?”

“I can’t believe what I’m hearing,” said Darlene. “I thought you were truly different. I thought you cared.”

“I do! I am! What I meant was – it was still dark out, see? And I’m not a morning person, like at all, and I didn’t have any coffee yet, plus my glasses, and – wait. Do you live with your twin sister? Doesn’t that get confusing?”

“I was visiting for the holidays,” said Darlene. “And when I heard you on Christmas Eve, I thought it was… a miracle. I thought it was fate.” Nick felt his heart flutter, and he and Darlene locked eyes. “Oh,” she said, “I just can’t stay mad. Especially for such an honest mistake. All is forgiven!”

The crowd cheered.

“Blech!” said Arlene, and then she mimed shoving her finger down her throat. “This is so gross. Keep your pervert, sis. Just don’t bring him round my house.” She stalked out of the ballroom with her polar bear man.

“Sold!” said the auctioneer. “Naughty Nick to the astronaut, for twenty thousand dollars!”

The crowd roared, and white confetti filled the air like a postcard snowfall. Nick and Darlene found each other on the dance floor, and he spun her around.

“This is the start of something beautiful, isn’t it?” she said.

“Yes! The beginning of the rest of our lives. But…”

“But?”

“I have a confession to make.”

Darlene bit her lip. “Me too! I’ll go first. The reason Arlene hates me so much is because I am the elder, by three-point-seven-six seconds. It makes me the sole inheritor of my family’s fortunes, and her jealousy can’t stand it.”

“You’re rich?”

“Better, Nick! I’m the crown princess of the Kingdom of Zersezna. Oh, I do hope that hasn’t turned you off?”

“No, not at all! I don’t care if you’re a princess or a pauper.” What a strange thing to get hung up on, he thought. Sure, it might take some adjustments on his part, but love was worth it, right?

“That gladdens my heart! Most men are afraid of my family’s history of war crimes and recreational brutality.”

“Um–”

“But that’s blood under the bridge! Now, nothing is stopping us from getting married and living in my palace. And Nick, the best part is, where I live, it’s always a white Christmas!”

“That is nice,” said Nick. He visited the whole world on that one night each year, and while he loved the job and enjoyed the hot countries, nothing could beat a beautiful winter scene. “I do love snow.”

“No, Nick, it’s better! It’s a white Christmas. My family’s soldiers keep our country racially pure!”

Nick choked on his own saliva and nearly coughed up a lung. “Jesus Christ!” Was love worth it!? Maybe basing a whole relationship on a single unsolicited kiss, while breaking into a stranger’s house, wasn’t actually all that reasonable.

“Now what did you want to confess? I have ways of making you talk,” she said, with a girlish giggle. “My uncle is our chief torturer.”

“Um–”

Just then he caught a fist in his peripheral vision, and a mean left hook flattened Darlene’s nose and knocked her out cold. And suddenly, there was Mrs. Claus.

“Oh, thank heaven,” Nick said. Now this was a January miracle. “You won’t believe what just–”

She grabbed him by the ear and yanked hard, dragging him all the way back to the North Pole, muttering about her mother having been right.