Day 21: Hugs
@hellcheerxmas
December 1986
Hawkins, Indiana
“Dude, what the fuck?”
Eddie slams his locker shut, nearly clamping Gareth’s nose inside. Which is as much as the little shit deserves for sticking it firmly where it doesn’t belong.
“Don’t know what you’re talking about,” he says as he leans against the metal door, aiming for nonchalance.
“There was a bear.”
“Fuck off, go to class.”
“It had a hat—”
“Go to class,” he hisses, and the Dungeon Master voice doesn’t work on Gareth anymore, but Eddie likes to think he projects a modicum of authority. Sometimes. Maybe.
“Whatever, Eddie.” Gareth snickers and hoists his backpack onto his shoulder. “Good luck with that.”
Eddie watches him go. Waits until the hallway clears out and the bell rings (so he’s skipping English; he knows how to read) before he opens his locker again.
Sitting on the top shelf is, indeed, a bear. And not just any bear. A polar bear. A polar bear wearing a red Santa hat and a green vest with bells all over it, and one of its feet has a sticker that says squeeze me.
He's no fool—he ain’t squeezing shit—but he does pull out the crisp white envelope that’s been neatly placed in the bear’s lap.
Dear Eddie,
This is Mr. Hugs. He loves you. Merry Christmas.
Best wishes,
Mrs. Claus
P.S. This is revenge
He sighs. Grabs the jingling bear and tries to muffle it against his jacket because he can’t leave it in his locker and he can’t throw it in the trash, so his only option is to get it to the van without anyone seeing.
Which might have worked if not for the fact that he runs into Lucas Sinclair holding a hall pass when he’s halfway to the back door.
“Hey, Sinclair,” he says like he’s not holding a giant Christmas teddy bear to his chest.
“Hey, Eddie.” Lucas, a nice kid, is trying not to smirk. “What’s uh… that?”
“Oh, this? This is Mr. Hugs.” Because what else the fuck is he going to say?
“Uh-huh.”
“It’s not what it looks like.”
“It doesn’t look like anything.”
“Right. What are the chances of you not telling Henderson about this?”
Lucas considers his options, then shrugs. “My mouth stays shut if you let my sister start coming to Hellfire next semester.”
Eddie groans. “I told you, man. It’s not a babysitting service.”
A shrug and Lucas folds his arms. Eddie inadvertently squeezes the bear a bit tighter, which is when a tinny, mechanical voice spouts, “Ho-ho-haaaaappy holidays from Mr. Hugs!”
Lucas can’t keep from snorting. Eddie grits his teeth. “Fine. But she’d better come prepared,” he says before sprinting for the exit.
Luckily, he doesn’t run into anyone else between Sinclair and the parking lot, where his van waits like some sacred oasis.
Chrissy’s sitting in the back when he gets there, painting her nails and flipping through a magazine like she’s not an evil little Christmas imp. She has a free period when he has English, and she says being in the van beats study hall, so he gave her his extra key.
“Dude,” he says when he sees her, and she looks up all beatific, batting those big, baby blues. “I have a reputation.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
He launches Mr. Hugs against the back of the passenger seat. The bear drops to the floor with a squealed “Meeeeeeerry Christmas!”
She lifts her hand to her mouth and blows on her nails, then shrugs. “I think he’s cute.”
“You think he’s—”
“Maybe think twice before insulting Boy George next time, Munson.”
Eddie frowns, because when did he even do that? Except, yeah, last weekend. Rick’s place. Chrissy and Rick wanted to listen to Colour By Numbers, and Eddie’d been… like, maybe more of a dick about that than the situation warranted. But still!
“That’s disproportionate, Cunningham!”
Another shrug, but she’s tamping down a giggle.
“Whatever. You’re such a fucking freak.”
Chrissy doesn’t disagree, and he spends the rest of her free period doing his best not to smudge her nail polish.
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Do you know what is the sign of a great scene? When you can read it over and over again and no matter if you KNOW what is going to happen, what is following up and how everything ends? You are still gripped by the same feelings you had the first time you read it and everything was uncertain.
For me, I have been a lucky reader. There are a ton of those scenes I can think off. But right now? The one that made me think of it is the one I JUST re-read for, what I think is the 20th time now.
Mr. Jingles' death in The Green Mile.
Now, if you haven't seen or read The Green Mile, why are you here and not looking for it in a streaming service? Seriously, it's one of the great stories of Stephen King that is not fully horror and the movie is one of the best adaptations. And now, I spoil a lot:
Because see, first of all, Mr. Jingles is a MOUSE. Not a person, a mouse. And not only that, he is the morality pet of a rapist arsonist (The fact that the book/movie manage to make said rapist arsonist a woobie is a different case altogether and I will talk about that in my video). And the book has a lot of deaths, including a couple of adorable twin girls, but NONE impacted me as much as the moment when the evil guard steps on that poor little mouse at the end of part 3.
And as I read it again right now? I am honestly crying, five minutes after I closed the book for 24 hours before I go back to part 4.
And there's the second thing. As I said, I've read this book a thousand times. However, this is the FIRST time since it was published that I am reading it the way it was intended to be read again. That is, waiting between parts. Originally it was a month wait between parts and let me tell you, that month between John Coffey's hands and The Bad Death of Edward Delacroix? WAS TORTURE the first time as I could only think about poor Mr. Jingles. Now... I know Mr. Jingles will be ok. He will come back. But still, I am crying because it was written so well, and I have to wait 24 hours to see him come back and that... THAT is great writing.
What are your similar scenes in other books? I am dying to know.
(Also, send cute pics of mice. I need cute pics of mice right now)
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PULSE~part 1, californian quirks
Xavier waits. Propped up against a tree, a lit cigarette dangling between his benumbed lips. Every part of him is and has been cold for a long time now. Making that burning feeling in his chest when he first saw you beyond ethereal.
You agreed to meet outside the girls cabin after breakfast, a quiet time for you both to continue on this funny little journey. It was nearing the end of your first week here at camp redwood. “Good for your soul” your parents assured as they shut your car door behind you. The past of said camp seemingly failing to cross their minds. You yourself not anticipating how the camps history would soon be haunting you.
Xavier showed himself to you on your first night. After a quick call home you turned to see him watching you, a strand of his blonde hair falling down onto his forehead.
“Can I help you?” you asked, not quite over how dreamlike he looked. What seemed to be a glow surrounding him. With a smirk he introduces himself to you as Xavier plympton. A slight chill running down your back as he spoke the name. You’d heard jokes about how the california folk were…quirky. But surely impersonating a massacre victim was crossing some line?? But the only thing Xavier was impersonating in that moment was his calm demeanour, a pretty new girl. With a pulse.
How fun.
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