angel on the top of the decorated tree. “Everything about it. I think that’s my problem; that’s why I hate it now.”
Naff gave him a puzzled expression. “You don’t like to be reminded of your childhood?”
“What?” Michael flashed him a bemused look. “No, no. Far from it,” he uttered, turning back to the tree as its succession of flickering lights bathed the room in a sea of temporary blue light. “I miss being a kid,” he explained softly.
“Ah.”
“The innocence. The joy. There are other things I miss of course, you can’t enjoy some of the best things in life until you’re older, but as a kid...” he shrugged, “I guess things just felt...better.” He smiled and turned to Naff who didn’t seem to be taking the information in. “You know?”
“Not really.”
“You were never a kid?”
“If I was I can’t remember. To be honest, I mean, I like them an’ all, but they seem like a completely different breed to me.”
“Kids?”
“Yep.”
Michael watched the tree as a dazzling and epileptic wash of colours swam over its plastic leaves. “I’m with you on that on,” he agreed. “But still, it’s different when you are one.”
The two stood in relative silence, watching the lights in the room flicker from one neon spectrum to another. A gentle buzz from the electric lights and the purr of a muted snore from upstairs were the only sounds to come between them until Naff sombrely noted: “This world isn’t all that bad you know. The afterlife, this life.”
“What?”
“Well, that’s what this is all about isn’t it? You loved Christmas when you were alive and hate it now. It reminds you of what you’ve lost.”
Michael glared at him. He pondered dismissing his part-time pseudo psychology but shrugged it off and offered a simple nod. “I guess so.”
“We can live forever,” Naff continued “We can see the dawn of new civilisations. We can witness and survive catastrophic natural events, wars and human crises. It’s a great opportunity; a great life.”
Michael watched the heightened features on his friends face as they flickered with a fusion of delight and coercion. “I was just beginning to enjoy myself here,” he said softly. “Don’t fucking spoil it.”
7
They met back at Naff’s house. On the journey home Michael didn’t stop smiling and he didn’t mind Naff noticing, nor did he mind the smart-arsed comments that filled up their journey for its entirety. He felt good, certainly a lot better than when they had started on their quest. The alcohol had helped, despite being a few days away from Christmas Eve the final house had left out a bottle of port and a couple of glasses on the dining room table, the thirsty friends agreed it had probably been left for them and wasted no time in drinking it; snacking on a few mince pies from the kitchen and tempting candy canes from the tree.
They arrived back just as Chip and Sampson were entering the street. They were equally joyous. Sampson walked tall and proud, the look of dismay stripped form his face and filled with one of pride and happiness. Chip was equally happy; he knew there was nothing separating him from spending the next few days with his wank machine.
Naff poured the drinks and shared out some slices of suspicious looking ginger cake. He was proud of his work, happy to do a good deed for the people of the town and for the demon he had been hired to look after. He was always happy when his work had been completed sufficiently and expertly.
Whilst Naff, Michael and Sampson drank and shared in the revelry of the season, swapping jokes and stories, Chip sat hunched up in the corner with a broad smile on his ugly face as the computer screen flashed a fleshy light onto his glossy features.
“So,” Naff, having drained his drink following a toast, put down the glass and rubbed his hands. “Same again next year?”
Michael glared at him, his mouth full of brandy. He swallowed and snapped open his lips to scratch back a heated reply but Naff halted him with a raised palm. “I was kidding, for fuck’s sake.”
Michael managed a restrained smile.
Naff turned to Sampson, “Are you ready to go then? It’s time.”
The demon nodded contently. He finished his drink and put down the glass without letting an inch of that contentedness slip from his chubby, reddened face.
He moved to Michael and offered him a hand. “Thank you,” he said. “I’ll never forget what you and your friends