Not your common garden-variety Christmas story. Put off reading this One until after Christmas, if you still wait for Santa

(By the By, this is not indicative of my own state of mind, as I am already cursing that life is too short.)

Roger Stanley knew it was one of those Calls, as he listened to the rundown over the Car radio. Every damned year since he had been assigned to Homicide, all Eleven of them, a Killing occurred in the Week leading up to Christmas Eve. Not a simple Homicide, but Wife or Husband murdered with Spouse a suicide, always with young children present. It was inevitably fed by inability to buy the children Christmas presents. A Cop for twenty-three years, the Homicide Liutenant wished for a Christmas without the anger of the parental failures. Police knew the downside to everything, and Roger had been a Cop too long. He thought again about Retirement; he could capture a 50% Pay Retirement and still retire in June. The Job was just getting too depressing, basically because nothing ever changed!

The address listed in the radio call placed the scene in the poorer section of town, with a report of a married couple dowe at the scene. The Report had not mentioned kids, but Roger knew they would be there; if they were old enough to understand what had occurred, he would have to interrogate them. Roger wanted a drink badly, but he had been doing too much drinking alone in the last few months. He had to be careful about going down that road. He knew he himself met the Profile: divorced Cop, alienated grown children, friends dead, out of the profession, or retired; middle-aged with mid-life crisis with no expectation of any change of lifestyle. Thanksgiving, Christmas Eve, and New Year's Eve were the big, gun-eating Days for the Profiles.Roger remembered a time where he, and his ex-wife, used to dream about what he would do after retirement, now he wondered where he would get a job as a Security officer. He barked a cruel laugh, maybe he should ask Santa to get him through another Christmas.

Stanley parked his unmarked car next to a lit-up Cruiser, noting that a Medical Examiner had already arrived in the form of a Staff car left on the other side of the Crusier. The ambulance had already departed, a depressing sign, meaning that the children were dead too. Transfer of living patients would only occur after the Investigating Homicide officer came on the scene--unless of course, Transfer was an immediate medical necessity. A glance at the outside Patrol officer confirmed his suspicion; the lack of excitement exhibited foretold only a wait for a dead wagon. Roger exited his vehicle, and waved at the Officer, "Hi, Mike, what is the current count?"

"Bad, Rog! Five Dead at the scene; it is one hell of a mess. Heavy caliber handgun, probable Magnum, really blew the three kids apart. Damned Asshole! None of the kids were older than maybe Five. Husband hated Women, one to the baby carriage, two to the Tits."

Roger Stanley shook his head and entered the rundown, rental house common to this section of the City. Martha Vinyard, the only female ME on City staff, noticed his entrance, saying, "Hello, Roger. This is a bad one, to say the least! Husband did the wife back here in the kitchen, then reloaded, and then went in and did the kids in the second bedroom. Have a drink before you go in that bedroom, it is that bad!"

"Weapon?"

".44 Caliber Smith and Wesson Magnum. Husband is lying on the bed in the first bedroom. Bullet through the top of his head, with the barrel in his mouth. We have the gun."

"Why every Christmans? The City has Charity and Welfare agencies all over town. Hell, Welfare kids can get more Presents than I could ever give my own, simply by the Parents stating they are too broke to buy Presents."

Martha sighed and stated flatly, "The trouble is that they don't give Adults Presents. Every Adult in this Country was raised by TV, where Everyone gets to see how the Better Half lives; the trouble comes from the fact that 95% of Us do not live that way. Guys like this Dude grow up thinking he will be famous and rich having everything by the time he is Twenty. They actually want to kill this World by age Thirty. The Crime is that they can only kill Those dependent upon them. People often ask what makes a Terrorist or a Criminal, it is that damned TV!"

Roger Stanley thought about that answer a lot when he finally made it home at Two am that next morning. The Husband had just got it in on time. It was Christmas Eve. He did not have the duty until Christmas Day, and decided to have a drink, pouring himself a Chevas and Coke. He drank that drink, and followed it with another, when his cellphone rang. He thought about not answering it, but he still had the Duty until Dawn. He punched the button and said "Stanley."

"Martha Vinyard again, Roger. We have another one, practically the same thing. Only difference is it was the Wife this time. Used a butcher knife to cut Hubby's throat while he was sleeping. Residual anger as well--she cut off the husband's thang while he was still choking on his own blood. She finished him, then went and cut the two children's head off. Went back to her bedroom, laid down beside her dead husband, placed the kids' heads between her legs, then a quick knife thurst to her own heart. Only three houses from the original incident."

Roger Stanley told her he would be there in a half-hour. He was still thinking about Martha's answer as he dressed. It was wrong! Roger did not want to kill the World, kill his own Kids, or even that bitch ex-wife of his. They all deserved whatever life they could attain in a World too filled with hardship. He knotted his tie, and put on his jacket. He reached for his pistol, and checked to make sure it was loaded. He started to put it back in his holster, then said the hell with it. He placed the barrel in his mouth, and pulled the trigger.

The ME sent a Crusier over to the Stanley house when Roger failed to show up at the second Murder scene. It was almost Dawn when Martha Vinyard arrived at the scene. She made sure no one had tampered with the Scene, then entered the house. It took no search to find the body, as the Patrolman had given her the exact location. She entered the bedroom and thought, "Jesus, the brains fly all over when it is a standing head shot." She had determined the cause of death, but put on plastic gloves to retrieve the weapon. She asked herself why she had not become a Country doctor like her grandfather, something she had asked herself many times since becoming a Coroner. She considered the bad decisions Everyone makes, and about the Coward's way out so many People took. She had such contempt for them, but then, she had the same loathing for herself after all the years of doing this crap. She shrugged, put the gun barrel in her mouth, and pulled the trigger.

Have a holly, Jolly Christmas; The best Day of the Year.

Copyright.LawranceGeorgeLux