He opens the burger box, his mouth watering. The fat burger with a strip of bacon on the top, smothered in melted cheese makes his stomach growl. He sighs with a long, satisfied sound, just what he needs. A good, hearty burger, red on the inside. None of the fast food chain type burgers, limp flimsy bits of so called beef. No, a Jolly nice burger is what he has been looking forward to. He takes a hungry bite, chomping away, his hands still cold. The large yurt is warm and comfortable and very quiet, but outside the wind is bitter. He thinks about tomorrow, a frown on his face, looking at his problem from various angles. His poem, that is the problem. His St Nicholas’Poem for Brendon. He tuts, taking another bite, relishing the juicy beef with onions. Yes, it was a good idea going here for lunch. Now, Brendon’s poem, or rather, the lack of one. Truth is, he has been putting it off, remembering Brendon’s fury last year. All contained under a pleasant smile of course, but he knew better. Brendon had smelt like murder last year, and if he finds out that he, Johan, has got Brendon’s name again…well, no St Nicholas chocolate will be able to smooth out the evening, he reckons.
Bits of last year’s poem come back to him, and he chuckles in spite of himself. Of course, laughing at your own jokes is pretty poor taste, but then, it had been rather funny to watch Brendon having to read out his poem. He had really enjoyed himself until the poem was over, and Brendon had looked his way, knowing full well that Johan must have been the Saint and Helpers signed off at the end of the poem. Johan had continued laughing with the rest, and so had Brendon, but he remembers the twitching in his eye. He had pretended to sneeze and blow his nose, worried that Brendon might notice the tick, and guess his fear. Brendon had brushed the joke off like flakes from his jacket, but no before Johan had noticed his looks. Now he has got him again,and he will need to produce another poem, but somehow Johan hasn’t got the courage to mention Brendon’s business policies again. Last year he had laughed at the risk it involved, sure that Brendon’s policies were public knowledge anyway, but as Brendon read out the poem Johan realised that he had made the mistake of his life. Literally.
Johan bites and chews through the burger, napkins at the ready, as the burger leaks and bits of coleslaw drop out. Somehow the joy he felt over the first bite or two has started to fade. He will need to come up with a poem soon; one that is funnier than last year’s, but safer. Johan has no desire to be on the receiving end of Brendon’s ire again! Even though nothing ever came of it. Brendon made the odd comment that seemed to hint back to their festive evening, but Johan had expected something a lot more dangerous. Brendon was ruthless, he thinks, I will never forget that poor coffee lady… Brendon had gotten away with it of course, apparently the woman had a heart condition,but Johan is pretty sure Brendon had something to do with her fall. He hadn’t really thought about the consequences of his poem, only when Brendon’s eyes hooked onto him did he think. It was too late then of course, but maybe Brendon saw the funny side of the poem after all? He feels quite pleased for a moment,wondering if maybe Brendon had met his match! He never had expected it to be him, though. Johan pops the last bite of his burger in his mouth, grinning.Yes, Jolly Nice Burger seems a most appropriate name for it! Just when he puts the thin paper napkin down in the box his phone vibrates. He turns his phone on,his tongue dealing with rogue burger crumbs.
“I hope you enjoyed that, as it will be your last. I’ll save you the difficulty of getting me a present and a poem. Have a Jolly Nice St Nick.” Brendon. Brendon sent him a text, but what does he mean? Johan stares at the screen until it fades out. When he turns his phone on again the message has disappeared, it was obviously there to be read just once. What does he mean,last one? And their St Nicholas celebration at work is not for another day. He sits very still, his mind skipping past all the options, and he is only vaguely aware of the tingling in his mouth, the heavy feeling in his stomach. Not for long though, and Johan feels a growing sense of panic as he stumbled to the little toilet block. He makes it with seconds to spare, and is violently sick.When he tries to get up, he finds himself unable to breath, and he frantically gropes for the lock, hoping that the outdoor air will help him to catch some needed oxygen. The last thing he sees is Brendon, grinning, eyes still burning with fury, “Have a Jolly Nice St Nick,” his voice fading away fast.
