The Nutcracker

Written by:
Louis Serio

The Nutcracker


Tonight was Christmas Eve and there she was
sitting, alone, by the fireplace her big toe iced
up and a splint on her thumb. There were
sprinkles of almonds, walnuts, and other various
nutshells on her nightgown. Elizabeth had a run
of bad luck over the past week. Several days ago
she had broken her toe while sleeping. She
wasn’t quite sure how it happened; she must have
caught and twisted it between the mattress and
footboard. Two days later she woke with a
crushed thumb.


She looked longingly at the window. It
was opened slightly. Enough for her cat Muffy to
crawl through. Muffy was missing for several
days.
“Where are you kitty?” She sighed. She
was hopeful, not very, that Muffy would come
home. After all Muffy was just a kitten and the
world outside her little snow covered home was so
big she did not like Muffy’s odds.


She sat gingerly on her tender bottom side,
which, just this morning, had acquired several
welted bruises.
“Well,” Elizabeth huffed to the Nutcracker Soldier. “Hopefully
tonight will be the night she makes it home.” She popped an
almond in her mouth and set down the wooden
soldier on the coffee table. “You are my company
tonight little man,” and patted him on his
woodenhead.


He was a good soldier, standing tall and
proud. His shiny little sword dangled from his
belted waist. Silently and unmoving he watched
over his wounded owner. His uniform was painted
beautifully. He was the best of the best. The
elite. He was able to open any nut with little
effort. He had been practicing every night. His
owner did not have any nuts to crack the past
week but this did not stop him from his charge.
He was forced to make due with what was available,
making sure that when he was called
upon to do his duty he would perform it with
little effort. The bowl of nuts next to him was
no match for his expertise. He was ready. They
were all doomed to be crushed. Sure sometimes
the innocent got hurt but in the end it was all
about performance.


The kitten was an acceptable loss, a dress
rehearsal for tonight’s plan. Broken the right
way Muffy was just like almonds and walnuts. His
owner was another acceptable loss. It had to be
done. First the big toe then the knuckle. Her
bottom side, almost as massive as tonight’s bulky
bottom, was great for target practice. Yes he was
a good soldier indeed.


He was a real soldier once. A real live honest to goodness human fighting machine of the 3rd regiment. He died on Christmas Eve World War II in a woodworkers shop outside the Ardennes Forest. He had stopped in to take a fine Nutcracker that lay among, what was left of, the many beautifully crafted figures strewn around the rumbled building. A small payment, he felt, he deserved for helping save the world. He had just stuffed his prize into his backpack when the mortar hit.


This was all that he could remember.


Now every year he sat on the mantle of the
fireplace for the month of December waiting to
serve his owner but this year he had other
plans. He was going to put a nice spin on
Christmas. After all what did Christmas ever do
for him but kill him. Oh change was coming
tonight. He couldn’t wait. He was a fine-tuned
nut cracking machine. He had trained hard and
his plan was flawless. Now all he needed for his
owner Elizabeth to do was go to bed.
It was 12:00 AM when she finished the last
of the nuts, which had no chance of survival.
She set him down and gave him another pat on his
woodenhead. “Good night my little soldier,” she
yawned. “Make sure that Santa leaves me
something really good,” and she limped off to bed.


He stood tall, proud and ready. Ready to
make a change. He knew what he had to do. He
prepared all week. All he had to do was wait but
the waiting was unbearable. 12:30 turned to 1:00
and 1:00 dragged on to 1:30 AM. Maybe he wasn’t
coming?

Finally!


It was 2:00 AM when he made his descent down
the chimney. The soot on his red suit reminded
the waiting soldier of camouflage, Christmas
camouflage. The soldier hid waiting to
ambush. “Come on fat boy,” he thought. “Come on
down.” And down he did come feet first
stepping gracefully down the chimney. Closer.
Closer he came. The soldier waited. Ready,
trained and aware.


“That’s it fat boy.” He chuckled to himself. His owner's
butt end was actually bigger than big red’s enormous plump ass.
He quickly discarded the thought. He needed his woodenhead
clear if he intended to pull this off. Now was not the time for funny business.


“One more step,” The soldier waited
until the last possible minute. The perfect
opportunity when all of it was vulnerable. He
pounced at the big Red underside and the
Nutcracker did, well, what a Nutcracker should do
and with an ear piercing “Ho! Ho! OHH!” in
falsetto, Jolly Old Saint Nick’s shot back up the
chimney holding his jingle bells.


Elizabeth woke early Christmas morning.
Rubbing the sleep from her eyes she gently
slipped on her pink fluffy slippers and hobbled
into the living room. There were presents spread all
about the room. On the coffee table was a fantastic
Nutcracker soldier, not her familiar man but a truly
amazing figure. She looked curiously at the fireplace
of slowly dying ambers. She did not remember lighting a fire.
She noticed a parchment tacked to the mantelpiece.

She grabbed the note and read:


My dear Elizabeth, I hope you enjoy the new
Nutcracker I made especially for you. Your old one was
not in good spirits and had to be replaced.
Do not worry I have given your little soldier the
attention it so well deserved.


Love always,
Santa


Later that night Elizabeth rested gingerly on her
sore bottom. Her big toe was iced up and her thumb
in a splint. She sat, holding her new
soldier, in front of the fireplace. There were
sprinkles of almonds, walnuts, and other various
nutshells on her nightgown and sofa. The roaring
fire licked and crackled, lulling her to sleep.
She never noticed the small sword of her first
Nutcracker lying among the glowing ambers.