When they reached Bernard's office once again, Beck slumped into a chair and sulked while Bernard called Curtis up with a walkie-talkie that he had in his satchel. For a moment Beck wondered where the North Pole got the money for these kinds of expenses, but quickly remembered the cheap child labor downstairs.
Curtis quickly made his entrance, casting a wary glance at Beck, who met him with an icy stare.
"Curtis, can you do me a favor and bring in a couple of subs? I've got a lot on my plate right now and I just can't swing it, time-wise."
He was rewarded with a surly attitude. "I'm the Number-Two elf, not your assistant!"
"Have you got anything better to do?"
There was a pause.
"No."
"Have them charge it to my account." Bernard sat back in his chair and examined a fresh stack of documents, dismissing the grumbling elf. He grabbed more papers and got up. I've really got to get an assistant.
"Well, you're a regular slave-driver, aren't you?" Beck snarled as he stood before her, dropping the stack into her lap.
"I guess so." He said simply and sat back down at his desk.
Beck looked from the work to Bernard and then back again, disgusted. "Dude. What happened to you? You're so different." She inwardly cringed. Beck made it a personal rule never to get into the mushy, existential stuff.
"So are you," He told her pointedly. He chewed on the end of his pen absently, a habit from when they were younger.
"That's not what I meant." Beck watched his hands, annoyed. "We used to be best friends. What happened?"
He fixed her with a hardf look. "You picked sides." Beck stared back at him, eyes narrowed.
"So did you."
The two sat in silence until Curtis returned with a paper bag and receipt, which he handed to Bernard. This time, he made sure to make no eye contact whatsoever with Beck. He hurried out, mumbling something about a malfunction in wrapping.
Bernard pulled a sandwich out and tossed it to Beck, who caught it in mid-air. She glanced at the wrapper. "Quiznos? Really? Like I said before, way to keep up with the Joneses."
The corner of his mouth twitched, but he ignored her. Beck rolled her eyes and tucked in to what she identified as some variety of Italian cold-cut sub. The two ate in stony silence, and the awkwardness ate at Beck's insides. Had he been anyone else, she might have lightened the mood with some mildly offensive quip, her favorite being, "So, the Ebola virus. That's gotta suck."
Circumstances being what they were, she wisely kept her mouth shut.
After the two ate, Bernard showed Beck how to fill out the next set of forms; Beck soon forgot what they were even about, the task was so tedious. She leaned back in the stiff wooden chair and squeezed her eyes shut, giving them a break from staring at the tiny black and white text. This nonsense is so not worth my time.
The two of them both wrote in the ornate cursive characteristic of turn-of-the-century schooling. Bernard's, like his personality, was mild and neat, patient and organized. In contrast, Beck's was chaotic and angry, jagged and abrasive.
"Ugh!" After several hours of working, Beck slammed the back of her head on the wall behind her, covering her face with the stark-white papers. "How can you do this, day in and day out? It makes me want to gouge my eyes out with a splintery wooden spoon, and then deep-fry them in Antifreeze!"
Bernard looked disturbed. He regained his composure and said, "I don't do this all year; just in the early season and when things are slow. Otherwise, I'm either supervising the workers and fixing disasters or advising Santa." He drummed his fingers on the desk, annoyed at how little she knew about his job, as if she had taken a course on it. Beck's jaw dropped open.
"I'm not gonna lie; that sounds pretty fuckin' awful." She rested her cheek on her fist.
"Watch your language," He ordered. "And thank you."
"I do what I can," She shrugged, grinning wryly. "I don't know what it is about me; I guess I have a soft spot for people who are passionate about such complete nonsense."
"Christmas is not nonsense!" The Head Elf was indignant.
"Give me one good reason why!" Beck shot back. "All Christmas is, is an excuse for your in-laws to make jackass remarks with no backlash, for people to get massively drunk and embarrass themselves at office parties," She stood up; she was on a roll, "-and for children to be as spoiled as possible, whining-" -here she faked an obnoxious baby voice, advancing on Bernard's desk- "'Mommy, mommy, mommy, mommy, mommy!' And when they grow up, they'll all have a rude awakening when they realize that you can't always get what you want! It's just sick! It is the worst form of child abuse!"
She was incensed, now leaning over the desk in his face. "Did you know that suicides increase tenfold during the holiday season? Christmas spirit in the mortal world is diminishing more and more every year! I don't know why the North Pole's still up here, dealing with all this trivial crap. You know what? You suck. Christmas sucks. And I hope you all choke on your big, dumb fruitcake!" She finished, her voice rising to a rough, near-shrieking pitch. She stopped, catching her breath, face flushed. She stared at Bernard who was inches away, perfectly composed.
Suddenly he stood up and raised his hand as if to slap her in the face, much like a parent whose child had talked back to them. But he caught himself, lowering his hand sheepishly. He looked at the offending appendage, wilted.
"What, are you going to slap me? Go right ahead! It wouldn't be the first time I've been knocked around!" She spat venomously.
"What?" Bernard said, shocked. Who would hit a woman?
"You want a fight? You've got one. Go ahead; hit me!" She stuck out her jaw at him, pointing at the boniest part. She said the words over and over again, like a broken record, trying desperately to get a rise out of him. Beck wanted something to happen, something just had to give.
Bernard stared at her, wondering what she expected to get out of this. He knew her. She enjoyed breaking people. But her own strings seemed to have snapped somehow. Somehow, He inwardly scoffed, She did this to herself.
He walked around the desk, holding his hands out before him defensively. "I'm not going to hit you, Beck. Get a hold of yourself-"
A fist that seemed to come out of nowhere collided with the side of his face, and he saw stars for a few moments. His head spun and he tried to regain his balance.
Hello, little birdie. What lovely earmuffs. Here, kitty, kitty, kitty…
He shook himself out of it and stared at his charge, who was enraged and winded. With strength he didn't know he had, he grabbed her shoulders firmly in his hands and forced her back down into her chair. "Sit down, Rebecca. Get. A. Grip." He ordered through clenched teeth.
"Don't call me that. And you can bet I'll get a grip. I'll get a grip on your throat." She continued mumbling in this manner as someone knocked on the door.
Bernard cast a look at Beck, but she didn't seem to be going anywhere, so he cracked the door open an inch. Judy stood there, with a few elves standing behind her. They looked concerned. Bernard relaxed and opened the door a little wider at the sight of them.
"Bernard?" She started timidly. "We heard shouting coming from your office. Is everything alright?" She looked past Bernard at Beck, who was still in her chair, and was greeted with a sadistic grin.
Bernard pinched the bridge of his nose, wearily. "Yes, Judy. Everything's fine, I promise. I have everything under control."
"But you have a bruise on your cheek-"
"Everything's fine."
Judy looked unconvinced, but let the matter drop. "Well, we were just about to punch out-"
That time already?
"-but don't hesitate to call if you need assistance." She told him.
Beck scoffed from behind the Head Elf. Yeah, right. I eat little china dolls like you for breakfast.
"Thank you, Judy. I'll see you tomorrow." He bid them all good evening and shut the door, leaning against it and massaging his neck.
"Judy and Bernard, sitting in a tree…" He heard her softy chant. He ignored the childish rhyme. He would not let her win. Not only was his job on the line, but so was everything he stood for. He had to clear the name of Christmas in Beck's eyes. He had to, and he would do it if it killed him-
A crumpled up paper ball hit the back of his head.
-But that didn't mean he had to like it.
He whirled around and marched over to the still-seated Beck, and furiously planted both hands on the wall on either side of her head. "Listen, you bratty little terrorist! I am the Head Elf, and we are going to be doing things my way. You want wallow in your own misery and cynicism, go right ahead. But do not mess with everyone else's Christmas! Whether you like it or not, you're stuck with me for the next year, so you had better get used to it. You are one smart-mouthed comment away from mucking out the reindeer stalls, and I can tell you right now that the stable team will not make it easy for you. Do I make myself clear?"
He shocked himself with this outburst. Sure, he was short and snippy with the other elves, but that was just because there were things that needed to be done. He had never full-on blown up at anyone before. Beck seemed to have shrunk in her seat as he stared down at her, and Bernard pictured steam escaping his nostrils. Her arms were folded crossly, and she glared up at him.
"Swarovski crystal." She snarled.
He pushed off the wall and turned on his heel to go back to his desk. As he packed some work into his satchel, "We're clocking out now. Ordinarily I work after hours, but I think we've had enough excitement for one day."
He walked her back to the apartment building, Beck dragging her feet and pouting immaturely. Her converse sneakers were soaked by this time, and she shivered. Bernard offered her his scarf, but she shot him a dirty look.
"Suit yourself."
They arrived at Beck's apartment, and Bernard unlocked the door for her. Beck stepped inside, but he stopped her.
"Beck-"
She turned around, rolling her eyes dramatically. Bernard briefly wondered what kind of effect on one's health excessive eye rolling could potentially have. "I know, I know. Best behavior tomorrow. Got it, boss." She mock-saluted.
Boss? "I was going to say goodnight."
She stared blankly. "I hope you die in your sleep."
"You know, asinine comments aside, you're only mildly unpleasant." He observed dryly. "Kind of like going to the dentist, or swallowing kitty litter. You just have to close your eyes and wait for it to be over."
"You're the expert."
The door was then slammed in his face.
Hoo, Nellie!
It's only 10:45 and I am FRIED.
But I promised a new chapter by the end of the weekend and BY GOLLY I will deliver!
Now I'm going to get some beauty rest; workouts start tomorrow.
Prom season is upon us, kids, and no one wants to look like a giant molting crustacean in a dress!
Well, not me, anyway. What you guys are into is your business.
I'm currently pumping myself up by listening to some "Eye of the Tiger" and Rick Astley.
I WILL RICK ROLL THAT ELLIPTICAL.
Review Please! Critiques welcome!