A Christmas Carrot

“Morning, Robbie.”

“Morning, Jen.”

“Thanks for last night.”

“Last night is a bit foggy. Did we…?”

“It was a long-awaited Christmas present - after you quickly left town so many years ago.”

“I must be feeling the aftereffects of that Sambuca last night. What time is it?”

“It’s early afternoon on Christmas Day. I couldn’t believe my eyes when I saw your still handsome-looking face in our local pub last night. So many memories and emotions came pouring back out. Remember those quickies behind the local gym before I had to go home to Graham?”

“Yes, being married added to the excitement of it all. Did he ever suspect anything?”

“And the secret get-togethers when he went golfing with his mates?”

“Some of my most favourite times, I think.”

“And, what about the Christmas Eve before you left, when Graham passed out in the living room, and we slinked off out to the garden shed in the cold.”

“We soon warmed up, though, didn’t we.”

“To think, by Boxing Day, you had packed up and gone.”

“Yes, well. I meant to say goodbye, but I was an idiot back then.”

“I heard that I wasn’t the only one you were being an idiot with.”

“You found out?”

“It’s a small community, Robbie.”

“I remember.”

“You were carrying on with my best friend, Joleen behind the bar, a work colleague at your company, and the widow Crankie two doors down.”

“Like I said. I was an idiot back then.”

“You left me to battle my guilt alone.”

“Sorry.”

“So, I told him after you left.”

“Who?”

“Graham.”

“Your husband? Why did you do that?”

“I didn’t think you’d ever be back, and I needed to clear my conscience.”

“What did he say?”

“Morning, Robbie!”

“GRAHAM! Why are you…? What are?”

“I think it’s called, Spooning, mate.”

“But you’re on my side of the bed.”

“I didn’t hear you complaining last night when you were drunkenly singing, Everybody knows a turkey and some mistletoe help to make the season bright.”

“You were here? In the room? All night?”

“Every glorious minute of it.”

“Where was I?”

“Locked onto my wife in drunken embrace.”

“And… Where were you?”

“Locked onto you in sobrietous restraint.”

“Oh, my goodness.”

“Yes, Robbie. Goodness was the season’s sentiment. For years I’ve held onto that malingering grudge eroding my reason and happiness. You see, I’d not completely forgiven Jen for her indiscretions, but seeing you in the pub last night gave me the recourse and opportunity to cleanse all of our souls in one single collaborative act of togetherness.”

“Wait! What happened? I don’t remember much after leaving the pub.”

“That would be the last of the Rohypnol I’d been saving for the right moment.”

“Why the hell do you have Rohypnol?”

“It was the only way I’d let Jen near me to quench her desires.”

“You gave Jen Rohypnol?”

“Don’t be stupid. I’m not a monster. I took it myself. Like I said, her desires still need to be met and I needed alcoholic band-aids to numb the anguish you caused.”

“Wait! Jen, you drugged me?”

“It was the only way, Robbie. At last, Graham and I can now move on as a couple and put what you did to us - behind us.”

“What I did to you? If my memory serves me right, there were two of us in that tango.”

“Like Jen said, Robbie. It’s all behind us, now. In a way, you could say, it was all behind you, last night.”

“You what!? What do you mean?”

“Would you like to see?”

“See!? See what?”

“The video.”

“The video!”

“Don’t worry. I was as gentle as a lamb. We’ve had five thousand likes already.”

“Five thousand…? Where? On what?”

“On our Rohyp Tik-Tok channel, of course.”

“It’s all the rage, Robbie. Graham and I have been recording our own sessions. We’ve got quite the following.”

“Following?”

“Over ten thousand.”

“You need to take down that video. Right now!”

“Videos, Robbie. That’s plural, right Jen?”

“As in multiple, yes darling.”

“It’s amazing what you can accomplish in twelve hours. That was quite the marathon session, wasn’t it, Jen.”

“Wore me out, Graham. I eventually had to withdraw and film just the two of you. I don’t know how you men can move your hips like that for so long. Back and forth, back and forth, thrust and fall, advance and retreat.”

“What did you mean by withdraw, Jen?”

“Femdom, Robbie.”

“I don’t’ know, Jen. After your convincing performance, I might have to start calling you, Peg.”

“Peg?”

“As in, Pegging, mate.”

“What the!? You two are stark raving mad! This is abuse. Let me up, I want to leave, please. Whoa! My legs won’t work.”

“Yes, that. You might not want to get up too quick. Jen was a little concerned about the length of time it would take to recover from the muscle relaxant.”

“Muscle relaxant!? Where’s my phone? I’m reporting both of you to the police.”

“You won’t get any help there, mate.”

“Why not?”

“Seargeant Hornsby is a good friend of ours.”

“He’s still the police. Unless he’s as corrupt as you two.”

“Hornsby? He’s not corrupt. Is he, Jen?”

“No, sweetheart. He loved one of the videos he was in last night. The things he can do with an extended truncheon, beggars belief. You really ought to watch the video, Robbie.”

“You remember that little barmaid, mate – oh, what was her name, Jen?”

“Trisha.”

“Trisha, yes. Thin, petite with big… rosy cheeks. Worked with Joleen. Ring a bell, Robbie?”

“What of her?”

“That was Sergeant Hornsby’s daughter that unexpectedly became one with child after you scurried away from our little community. Talk of the town, she was. Ran off to London in shame, poor girl. Gave up her newborn son for a bag of heroin that sent her flying high up into heaven.”

“Trish?”

“Trisha, Robbie. Trisha Hornsby.”

“She told me on the day before I left. Said, if I didn’t do right by her, she’d tell her father. I got frightened by the overwhelming responsibility, so I legged it to London.”

“She followed your trail - the poor misguided girl. Thought you were in love with her.”

“I never said that to her.”

“Wasn’t the only demise that your behaviour caused. Was it, Jen.”

“No. There was also the old dear, Widow Crankie.”

“Margaret’s dead?”

“After you ran off, she would keep a candle burning in the window for you – in case you had lost your way. Silly thing. She fell asleep one night on the tipple with her head resting on the windowsill. Went up in flames along with the curtains and house. Her charred remains left an enduring imprint on the wall.”

“How do you know she lit a candle for me?”

“Her diary survived, Robbie, dear. A little singed but her words were clear for all to see how she missed you terribly.”

“Jen, I didn’t know.”

“Why would you have known? You only cared for yourself. Your trail of destruction took years to pave over.”

“Why’d you come back, mate?”

“Who cares! I’m the victim, here.”

“I see you haven’t lost that air of righteousness about you, mate.”

“If you really want to know. I was homesick. London’s a lonely place, when you know no-one. Plus, it’s Christmas, so I wanted to be close to home.”

“Christmas, Easter, Ramadan. It’s amazing how a little religious holiday brings out the hypocrites and sinners, hey Jen?”

“Brought out more than that after you left, Robbie.”

“What do you mean?”

“We had a little outbreak of an STD blow through some of our residents. Caused several infertility issues – including my own. Do you know that since you left, there hasn’t been one single newborn here. When it was decided to trace the origin of the STD, guess whose name popped up?”

“He doesn’t need to answer that, Jen. It’s quite obvious who was responsible.”

“I’m not that person anymore, Jen. Who I was back then is not who you see in front of you, now.”

“That’s quite the understatement. What do you think, Jen?”

“I think that’s an accurate explanation. I mean, several years ago, you’d never see Robbie in such an open and compromising position he displays on the videos.”

“What do you want from me?”

“Well, mate. In the spirit of the season. We’d like to offer you a Christmas carrot.”

“A what!?”

“A little Christmas compromise, Robbie. A way for us all to move on without your memory lingering like a stale fart.”

“Wait! Are going to hurt me?”

“That’s a bit over-dramatic, mate. Jen, he thinks we’re some form of avenging Christmas spirits of the past.”

“Oh, Robbie, dear. That is very disappointing.”

“By carrot, I mean an offer you won’t think twice about refusing.”

“What offer?”

“Jen, darling?”

“You leave our little haven today. Go back to London or anywhere else but here, and we’ll take down the videos. If we ever hear your name mentioned again or you decide that homesickness is more than an STD notch on a bedpost – and you can’t stay away; the videos that we will keep safe, will become unsafe for you.”

“Yes, mate. And what we mean by unsafe, has no sanctuary to hide away from it. Social media will be awash with your face and other compromised parts. A laughingstock you will become.”

“Agreed, Robbie, dear?”

“Well, mate?”

“Yes. Okay. Agreed.”

“There’s a good lad. Now, let me help you up. Jen, pass his trousers over here, please. You can use the bathroom – if you’re shy.”

“Graham, please. As if there’s anything further to hide.”

“There you go, mate. I see the blood is flowing back into your legs… Robbie…? Oh, okay. Dressing on the move, are we? What’s your hurry, mate?”

“I think he needs a bit of fresh air, darling.”

“He got down the stairs rather fast.”

“It sounded like he slid down the last half.”

“Look at this, Jen. Come over to the window.”

“What’s he doing?”

“He’s just turned left out of the gate. Then, backtracked running to the right. And now, he’s running toward the field across the road.”

“Poor love. He looks a little lost.”

“Quite surprising, Jen. Considering he managed to find his way to this house quite easily when I was away on trips.”

“Now, Graham. You agreed to move on.”

“I did, Jen. My apologies.”

“Think he bought all that Tik-Tok nonsense?”

“Pretty sure he did – judging by the way he’s running across that field in bare feet. Nothing but cow dung and rocks over there.”

“What is Tik-Tok for, anyway?”

“No idea, Jen. By all appearances, it looks like it’s a home to idiots shouting, Look at me, I’m important.”

“What about the little video white lie you told him?”

“If it keeps him away, then it worked.”

“Do you think the Rohypnol story was a little over the top?”

“Maybe.”

“After all, he was just drunk on all those Sambucas you bought him.”

“He believed it. That’s all that matters.”

“We may have overloaded him with all the other stuff about Sergeant Hornsby, Trisha, STDs, Crankie.”

“As long as they don’t find out, no harm done.”

“They’re all away visiting family, anyway.”

“Then, that’s fortunate for us, Jen.”

“What about the baby?”

“Trish lied to cover for someone else.”

“Who is the father, then?”

“She won’t say.”

“What if Robbie tells anyone about what we made up?”

“I don’t think he wants to face that embarrassment. He’s a coward. My guess is he’ll forget everything about what he can’t remember, anyway.”

“You handled it very well, Graham. I almost broke character a couple of times.”

“You can thank the local parish for that, Jen. Those free acting lessons were worth their weight. It’s pantomime season and I’m looking forward to playing the wicked godmother this year.”

“And what a good one you will make. Merry Christmas, my love.”

“Merry Christmas, Jen. Go grab that mistletoe from the bed and hold it above us.”

“I’m not so sure it’s all in one piece, Graham. It got a bit crushed under the sheets.”

“Ah yes. I forgot. The tiny tot had his eyes all aglow with that last night. But he didn’t find it hard to sleep with it tucked between his thighs. Who needs mistletoe, anyway. Give us a kiss…”