A Sock for Christmas (The Vault of Horror #29, Feb/March 1953)

Once upon a time, long, long ago, in a huge, beautiful castle, there lived a king, his queen and their only son, the royal prince. Now, since the young prince was their only son and heir to the throne, the royal couple spoiled the boy. Whatever Prince Tarby - for that was his name - wanted, he received. Whatever he did was never wrong. As the king put it...

KING IRVING: "Tarby is the royal prince! He can do no wrong!"

PRIME MINISTER: "The young prince pushed me into the castle moat, your majesty! If he were my child, I'd whip him black and white for..."

KING IRVING: "Well, he's not your child! He's the royal prince. The royal prince does not get whipped! Understand?"

PRIME MINISTER: "Y-Yes, your majesty! Thank you, your majesty."

KING IRVING: "Hmmph! The nerve of him! Suggesting that I whip dear Tarby!"

QUEEN MATILDA: Well, Irving. Actually, the boy deserves a whipping. He ruined the Prime Minister's new outfit."

KING IRVING: "Too bad. If the Prime Minister is so anxious to whip someone, let him whip his own child."

QUEEN MATILDA: "But it was Tarby who-"

KING IRVING: "Zounds, Matilda! I've got it! I've got the answer to out problem! Come with me, Tarby!"

QUEEN MATILDA: "Irving! Where are you going?"

The king ordered his coach! Then, he and the young prince drove down from the castle into the peasant village far below.

COACHMAN: "Make way! Make way!"

VILLAGERS: "It's the king!" "And the prince!" "The coach is stopping!"

The king poked his head out of the coach and scanned the sea of faces before him. Suddenly, he pointed.

KING IRVING: "You! Come here!"

VILLAGERS: "He points to the baker's child." "What does he want with him?"

The king stared down at the small boy before him, then at Prince Tarby, then at the boy again. With a grunt of satisfaction, he nodded.

KING IRVING: "Yes! Very good! Very good! Where is your father or mother, you ragamuffin?"

HERKIMER: "I am the boy's father, your majesty? What...what do you want with him?"

KING IRVING: "The boy is coming with me. He will live there as Prince Tarby's companion."

HERKIMER: "No! No! He is my son! You cannot take him from me!"

KING IRVING: Would you deny your son the advantages I can offer him? Good food? Good clothes? An education?"

HERKIMER: "N-No! But...but...!"

The coach door swung open.

KING IRVING: "Get in, boy! I command you!"

HERKIMER: "The king orders you, my son!"

MELVIN: "No! *sob* Father! *sob*"

The boy's father pushed his young son into the coach.

HERKIMER: "Do not cry, son! It is for your own good! Will we...will we be able to see him again, your majesty?"

KING IRVING: "At Christmas! I will him come home for Christmas! Alright, coachman!"

COACHMAN: "Make way! Make way!"

The baker's son was taken to the castle. But when he arrived, he soon found out that there was more to it than just being spoiled Prince Tarby's companion. There was a catch.

KING IRVING: "...and from now on, ladies and gentlemen of the court, when Prince Tarby is bad, he is to be punished. But you will not whip Prince Tarby. You will whip his companion here. You will whip Prince Tarby's whipping boy."

And so, the first whipping-boy came into being. The poor baker's son became Prince Tarby's whipping substitute. Anytime Tayb was bad, the whipping boy was punished.

CHEF: "That was...ungg...wrong of you...ungg...to put the...ungg...cat...ungg...into...ungg...the coven, Tarby!"

MELVIN: "...*sob*...*sob*..."

PRINCE TARBY: "Yes, Royal Chef. I won't do it again, Royal Chef."

Not only was the whipping-boy thrashed for Prince Tarby's misdoings, there were other substitutions.

WASHER: "What do you mean, you hate baths? You've got to take a bath! Now, come on!"

PRINCE TARBY: "Just one moment, Royal Washer. Oh, whipping-boy?"

MELVIN: "Yes, Prince Tarby."

The whipping-boy was made to substitute for all of the prince's distasteful responsibilities.

DIETITIAN: "Spinach is good for you! You must eat your spinach, Prince Tarby!"

PRINCE TARBY: "Yes, Royal Dietitian. Whipping-boy?"

MELVIN: "Pass me your plate, Prince Tarby."

Summer passed and fall came to the kingdom. And with it came...

PRINCE TARBY: "Go to school? I hate school! The Royal whipping-boy will attend school for me, Royal Tutor! Royal whipping-boy?"

MELVIN: "Yes, Prince Tarby. When do I start, Royal Tutor?"

TUTOR: "Tomorrow morning, Royal whipping-boy! Eight o'clock!"

And so, the whipping-boy even had to go to school for Prince Tarby. There wasn't anything that Prince Tarby disliked that he had to do. The Royal whipping-boy did them all.

TUTOR: "Your room is a disgrace, Prince Tarby! Toys all over! Clean it up!"

PRINCE TARBY: "Royal whipping-boy?"

But worst of all was when Prince Tarby was bad on purpose. Just to see the whipping-boy receive the whipping.

LADY: "And I hope this teaches you a lesson, young man!"

MELVIN: "...*sob*...*sob*..."

Finally, winter drew near. The first snow blanketed the castle and the castle grounds.

MELVIN: "It's almost Christmas time, Prince Tarby! Soon I will see my mother and father again! And Santa Claus will come and fill my stocking and bring me presents!"

PRINCE TARBY: "Ho ho! Listen to the whipping-boy! Don't you know that Santa Claus doesn't bring things to bad little boys?"

MELVIN: "But I haven't been bad! I...!"

PRINCE TARBY: "You've been punished, haven't you? I've seen it! I've seen you whipped a dozen times or more a week. Only bad little boys get whipped. I don't get whipped! I'm good! Santa will visit me! Not you!"

Finally, on the day before Christmas, a coach brought the baker's boy, the whipping-boy, down from the castle to village far below to the child's mother and father.

SUSQUEHANNAH: "My baby! My baby!"

HERKIMER: "My son!"

MELVIN: "Mommy! Daddy!"

COACHMAN: "I'll be back to pick him up tomorrow!"

Soon, he told his mother and father all about the castle and why the king had brought him there.

MELVIN: "...and so, if he's bad, I get whipped for him. But that doesn't make me bad, does it, father? Mother?"

SUSQUEHANNAH: "Of course not, my child."

HERKIMER: "The dirty...!"

MELVIN: "Then Santa Claus will fill my stocking and he will bring me presents!"

SUSQUEHANNAH: "Well, I...we..."

HERKIMER: "Of course, my son! Why shouldn't he?"

MELVIN: "Because, Prince Tarby said Santa wouldn't! He said that bad little get whipped and since I got whipped."

HERKIMER: "Never you mind, my son! Go hang up a stocking! The biggest one you can find!"

And so, with tears of joy streaming down his little face, the Royal whipping-boy hung up a large threadbare stocking.

SUSQUEHANNAH: "Herkimer! You know we have no money! How could we-!"

HERKIMER: "Hush, Susquehannah! The boy will hear you!"

Then he climbed into his ned and fell fast asleep, a faint smile on his tear-stained face.

SUSQUEHANNAH: "How could you promise the boy, Herkimer? You know we're broke. Now he'll expect Santa Claus to fill his stocking and give him presents."

HERKIMER: "The king should do it, Susquehannah. The king should do it. After all the boy's been through. He owes it to him! The king should fill Melvin's stocking! And I'm going to ask him to."

SUSQUEHANNAH: "Herkimer! Come back! He'll laugh at you! He'll laugh!"

KING IRVING: "Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha!"

And so, that night...

HERKIMER: "He...he laughed at me, Susquehannah."

SUSQUEHANNAH: "Come to bed, Herkimer."

But the next morning...

MELVIN: "Daddy! Mommy! Wake up! Wake up! Santa was here!"

SUSQUEHANNAH: "Huh?"

HERKIMER: "Wha?"

The boy skipped and danced as he led his sleepy-eyed parents to the pile of gayly-wrapped packages.

MELVIN: "See? See?"

HERKIMER: "Well, I'll be!"

SUSQUEHANNAH: "Look! A note! What does it say, Herkimer?"

HERKIMER: "It says, 'Merry Christmas, Melvin! Since you were the prince's whipping-boy, you deserve his presents! And there's one for your daddy, too. Just what he asked for!' And it's signed, 'Santa Claus'!"

Indeed, there was a present for the whipping-boy's daddy. But it was not quite what he had expected. The stocking hanging over the dusty old fireplace bulged strangely. It was red and sticky and a scarlet stream dripped from the hole in it's toe to the worn hearth.

SUSQUEHANNAH: "Look, Herkimer!"

HERKIMER: "Good lord!"

Yes. Herkimer had wanted the king to fill Melvin's stocking, so Santa had given him what he wanted!