|What would Christmas be without a ghost story or two? So here's three! The Ghosts of Christmas Presents
We'd heard about the mysterious deaths that had befell some of the customers who'd bought items from the D. EVIL & SONS second-hand shop, so we sent three of our Weird News reporters to the shop to investigate, posing as customers ...
When Vince Denver entered the D. EVIL & SON second-hand shop on the end of Hades Street, he didn't notice the rather strange proprietor lurking in the shadows at the back of the shop. Until, that is, he appeared beside him, while he was admiring a selection of old comics.
'Can I help you at all?' the proprietor asked.
He swung round, alarmed, to face the man, who smiled back at him, eerily.
'I didn't startle you, did I?' he asked.
'No, not at all,' Vince said.
The man looked disappointed. 'Oh, pity,' he said under his breath.
'What was that?' asked Vince.
'Oh, nothing.' He looked at the comic that Vince held in his hand. 'I see youre interested in comics?'
'No, not really,' Vince said, and placed the comic back on the pile with the others.
'Well what is it you are interested in?'
'Well nothing's caught my eye really,' said Vince glancing around the place. 'I don't normally look round junk shops.'
The man took on sudden appearance of annoyance. 'It's not a junk shop,' he snapped, 'I don't sell junk. This is an emporium of -'
'Junk?' Vince offered.
'No!' the man spat, then took a look around his shop. 'These are treasured possessions; things that people have owned; touched; used, the character has rubbed off.'
Vince took another look around. 'It looks like a load of old junk to me - it's for a present see, I don't think there's anything here that would suit.'
'Let me be the judge of that sir,' said the proprietor.
There was something odd about what he'd just said. Vince decided he'd leave the shop, he didn't want to stay there in the company of this man a moment longer. But as he tired to do so, the man stood in front of him, blocking his way out.
'Will you stand aside and let me out of your shop?' Vince asked.
'You're not leaving,' the proprietor said.
'Why?' asked Vince, the man's behaviour was beginning to frighten him.
'You need a proper look, have another look; see if there's anything you like.'
'There's nothing that's caught my eye.'
The man stepped over to a large full-length dressing mirror. 'How about this mirror? It's a lovely mirror that is sir.'
Vince took a look at it, and noticed a small crack in the top left hand corner. 'It's cracked.'
'It's only a little crack,' the man said.
'Nevertheless - it's cracked.'
'Do you not wonder who used to own the mirror sir? Are you not curious? the proprietor wanted to know.
'No, not really.'
'Aren't you just a teensy-weensy bit curious, as to who used to own this mirror?'
'Oh alright then, who used to own it?'
'Well, I don't actually know,' the man said. 'But I'm sure that whoever did own it, was a very interesting man.'
'Well who brought it in?' Vince asked.
'A lady,' said the proprietor, raising his eyebrows suggestively.
'Yes, a rather beautiful young lady, with big -' He cupped his hands in front of his chest to illustrate a rather buxom woman.
'Size 36DD at a guess, I'd say sir.'
'You're very observant,' Vince said to the man.
'My business is people, and people are my business. I give a fair price and ask a fair price for sale, you can't say fairer than that, can you sir?'
'No I dont suppose you can.'
'Well what do you think? You was looking for a Christmas present, was it for a young lady by any chance?'
'Yes, as a matter of fact it was.'
'I beg your pardon?'
'Dress size sir. I have some rather grande second-hand evening dresses.'
'I think she's size 12.'
'With an ample bosom sir?'
'Now look here!' Vince said, raising his voice, angry with the man. 'I hardly think my girlfriend's breasts should be of any interest to you!'
'You'd be surprise what I'm interested in sir,' said the proprietor, raising his eyebrows once more.
'That I doubt very much,' said Vince.
'I think I have just the thing for your girlfriend, sir.' And with that the man produced a rather strange looking hoof that had belonged to some kind of animal.
'What the hell's that!' Vince said, staring at the thing in distaste.
'It's a donkey's hoof sir.'
'Why on earth would I want to give my girlfriend a donkey's hoof?'
'It's not just any old donkey's hoof.'
'Oh I suppose you're going to tell me it's got special magical powers; like the monkey's paw in that old horror story, are you?'
'How the Dickens did you know that? You psychic sir?'
'No, just an educated guess,' Vince said sarcastically.
'So do you fancy it, for your girlfriend?'
'No I do not!'
The proprietor placed the thing down, and turned his attention somewhere else. 'Well, wait a minute, I think I might have something that will be just the ticket.' He rummaged in a cardboard box and pulled out a tiny black box and opened it. It was a ring, which had a strange sparkle of green and blue to it; in fact it seemed to have a pulsing glow.
'Have you ever seen a ring that sparkles like that?' the man asked Vince.
'No,' said Vince, gazing at it in wonder. It was indeed an amazing looking ring. 'No I haven't, it's incredible - absolutely incredible!'
'I thought youd like that,' the proprietor said, satisfied with himself that he'd found something Vince liked. 'Make a nice engagement ring that sir.'
'Yes it would, how much?'
'To you sir - £500.'
'£500! For that?'
'Look at the sparkle sir. You give her that and she'll be all over you tonight sir - if you know what I mean.'
'Alright, I'll take it. £400 is it, did you say?' said Vince pulling out his wallet.
'Done!' Vince said, handing him his credit card.
'You have been sir,' the proprietor said under his breath.
'Oh, nothing sir, I'll go and wrap it for you.'
That night after Vince had given his girlfriend, Helen, the ring, and she hadn't taken it off since, while admiring its unique - but eerie - sparkle, she turned to him and said: 'It's really beautiful, but I can't sleep with it on, I'll take it off if you don't mind, and put it back on tomorrow. It would be like trying to sleep with a neon light flashing in your face.'
She began to tug at it, but the ring wouldn't budge. I can't take it off,' she said.
'Here. let me try,' Vince said, and pulled at the ring.
'Oh leave it,' Helen finally said, 'I'll try to get it off tomorrow morning.'
'Okay darling,' Vince said, giving her a kiss on the cheek. 'Pleasant dreams.'
That night she did have a dream, but pleasant it was not. She dreamt that she was strangling a man, and as she looked at herself in the mirror as she was doing so, she saw someone else staring back at her; a much older woman with a look of absolute evil in her eyes. The man dropped to the floor dead, and she stood over him, looking down, and then glanced in the mirror again. The older woman grinned back at her.
Helen woke with a start.
At breakfast she told Vince about the dream. 'I strangled him with my bare hands,' she said, looking at her hands as she said it.
'How extraordinary darling,' said Vince.
Then she went over to the sink and tired to get the ring off with some soap. 'You know I still can't get this bloody ring off. If I can't get it off I'm going to have to have it cut off.'
'But that ring cost £500,' Vince protested.
'What's more important: the money you paid for it, or my finger - it hurts!'
'Your finger of course, but-'
'You know I'm sure it's going tighter,' Helen told him. 'It's as if, it doesn't want me to take it off.'
'Here let me try,' said Vince, going to help. But before he could get to her, she slapped him.
'What was that for?' Vince asked bemused.
She slapped him again. 'I don't know why I did that,' she said, looking shocked at her action. And then she did it again.
'Stop that!' Vince said.
She slapped him again. 'I can't help it,' she said.
Then she did it yet again, and then another time.
'It's as if,' she said, staring at the hand with the ring on, that had been doing the slapping, 'my hand has a life of its own.'
That night Vince woke with Helen's hands gripped firmly around his neck, as if she was trying to squeeze the life out of him.
He managed to pull her from him, and she just stared at her hands. 'It must be the ring!' she said.
'We've got to get that ring cut off, come on.' Vince slipped out of bed, put his dressing gown on, then headed downstairs. Helen followed.
Vince made his way down to the cellar where he had a workshop and grabbed a hacksaw from a rack on the wall.
'I hope you're going to watch what your doing with that thing,' Helen said, looking at the hacksaw warily. 'You'll have my finger off if you're not careful.'
'Don't worry darling, I know what I'm doing.'
He placed her hand down on the workbench, and positioned the hacksaw on the ring.
While he was doing this, and unknown to him, she reached behind him for a pair of scissors from the rack, and then swiftly stabbed him with them.
Vince recoiled and looked at her bewildered.
She stabbed him again with the scissors, and then again and again. Finally he fell to the floor.
'Merry Christmas darling,' Helen said, looking down at his lifeless body in a pool of blood on the floor.
She was still clutching the scissors in her blood-soaked hand - her ring hand!
Then realisation seemed to come over her, and she dropped the scissors to the floor. They landed with a clatter next to the prone body of her husband.
Helen couldn't believe what she'd done; all she could do was stare at her hand and the ring.
The Donkey's Hoof
Inside D. EVIL & SON, Charles Grant, was admiring the donkey's hoof that the proprietor had shown to Vince some days earlier.
'I see your admiring my hoof sir,' the proprietor said to Charles.
Charles turned to face the odd-looking man. 'Oh, you gave me a fight,' he said.
'Sorry sir, I did mean to startle you.'
'You know, it's only an old hoof, but I'm quite taken with this for some reason,' Charles told the man.
'No one can say why were drawn to certain things more than others sir, and maybe we shouldn't question it, as questioning things might only frighten us with the answers we come up with sir,' the proprietor said to him.
Charles raised his eyebrows. 'That's rather an extraordinary way of looking at things, what does it mean?'
'Not a clue sir, I just made it up.'
'How much is it?' Charles asked.
'I give a fair price and ask a fair price for sale, you cant say fairer than that.'
'Yes, but how much is it?'
'To you sir - £200.'
'£200? For that old thing!'
'That old thing is said to have magical properties,' the man told Charles.
'It doesn't look very magical to me,' Charles said, viewing the thing.
'It is said that each owner of the donkey's hoof is granted three wishes, and that if you grip the hoof like so.' The proprietor took the hoof from Charles and held it aloft firmly. 'And make a wish.' He closed his eyes, and then gave a smile. 'It will come true.'
The man opened his eyes again.
'Did you make a wish?' asked Charles.
'Indeed I did sir.'
'What did you wish for?'
'Never you mind sir.'
Then just at that moment the shop door opened and an attractive young buxom woman entered. The man looked, firstly at the hoof, and then at the woman, and smiled to himself.
When he got home Charles didn't mention his purchase of the hoof, he was going to give it to Elizabeth - his wife - as a Christmas present.
However, that night, Elizabeth rose to her feet while they were watching television and said: 'I'll just go and check on Daniel.'
Charles gave her a bemused look, but then said: 'Oh alright.' It was always best to humour his wife when these sorts of situations presented themselves.
When Elizabeth reached the baby's room and looked in the cot, an expression of absolute horror filled her face, and she gave out a loud terrifying scream.
Then she turned away and fled downstairs where Charles had risen to his feet, alarmed at his wife's cries.
'Whatever's the matter?' he asked her.
'It's our baby - he's dead!' she told him, starting to sob.
'Oh darling you know we don't have a baby; you know it's just you pretending we have one,' Charles comforted, putting his arms around his wife and hugging her.
'Oh I wish we could have a baby,' she sobbed over his shoulder.
As she said this, Charles glanced over to the bureau where he'd put the hoof, and suddenly he remembered what the shopkeeper had said about it.
'Oh darling we can't have a baby,' he told his wife. 'You know I'm sterile.'
She pulled herself away from her husband, and after composing herself, said: 'Can't we try my idea of me sleeping with your brother?'
'No darling, that wouldn't be right,' Charles told her.
'Oh,' she said disappointed, then added: 'Oh I really wish we could have a baby.'
'Well -' Charles began, looking over to the bureau. 'There might be a way.'
'What?' she asked. 'I'll try anything!'
She watched as he went over to the bureau, opened it, and brought out an odd-looking thing that looked like an old animal's hoof of some kind.
'Happy Christmas darling,' Charles said, holding it out to her.
'What the hell's that?' she asked, looking at the thing in distaste.
'This,' Charles said, 'might just be the answer to all our problems!'
Sometime later he had told Elizabeth what the proprietor of the shop had informed him of the hoof's magical properties, and had managed to convince her to grip the thing with him in order that they make a wish.
Thinking it ludicrous, but at the same time willing to try anything - even superstition - in order that she could have a baby, she had agreed to try it.
'Now according to the chap in the shop,' Charles said, 'we both hold it like so, and wish for whatever we want.'
'I wish we could have a baby,' Elizabeth said out loud. 'Yes, I wish for a child of our own.'
They waited, as if expecting something to happen, but nothing did.
'Well it's not going to suddenly happen is it?' Charles philosophised.
Then suddenly Elizabeth put her hands to her stomach. 'Ooh!' she said, wincing.
'What's the matter?' asked Charles concerned.
'I felt something,' she said.
Then at that moment her belly began to grow outwards before their eyes.
'It's working,' said Charles, you're getting pregnant!'
'And we didn't even need to have sex,' she said, looking down at her extending abdomen, 'isn't that wonderful!'
'Oh ... yes, I suppose so,' said Charles, disappointed that they hadn't. 'Maybe we could have sex just to make it more authentic!'
'No,' she told him, 'I don't want to put you to any trouble - I'm the one who wanted a baby.'
'It's no trouble, let's go upstairs now!'
'But I can't believe how fast its growing,' Elizabeth said, changing the subject, 'it's amazing.'
'Oh ... yeah ... amazing.'
Then she clutched her now very large belly. 'Oh! Oh!'
'What's the matter now?' asked Charles.
'Contractions,' she told him, 'I think I'm in labour!'
'Quick!' said Charles, 'I better get you to the hospital!'
They were halfway to the hospital when Charles saw a blue flashing light in his rear-view mirror. 'Oh damn it!'
He brought the car to a standstill by the side of the road, and the police car pulled up behind. An officer got out and approached Charles.
'Where's the fire sir?' asked the police officer, leaning in through the window that Charles had wound down to speak to him.
'It's my wife!' shouted Charles, frantically.
The police officer frowned. 'Your wife's on fire sir?'
'No, can't you see? She's in labour! She's going to have a baby!'
The police officer glanced at Elizabeth holding her obviously heavily pregnant belly.
'Isn't it wonderful?' said Charles, It only happened tonight - it's a miracle!'
'Are you sure you've not been drinking sir?' asked the officer, looking even more confused.
'I've never been more sober in all my life,' Charles told him and beamed.
'In that case sir,' said the officer, 'I better give you an escort.'
In the hospital later that evening, Elizabeth sat in bed with her newborn baby, the police officer was sitting beside her admiring the child, and Charles was gazing in awe at his son.
'You know what,' said Elizabeth to the police officer, 'I think I'll name him after you.'
'Oh you can't do that miss,' said the officer, becoming all bashful.
'Yes, I want to - you did make sure we got to the hospital quickly.'
'Oh alight,' conceded the police officer, 'since you insist. It would be an honour to have the little chap named after me.' He beamed and gave a little wave to the baby.
'By the way, what is your name?' asked Elizabeth.
Elizabeth stared at him for a few seconds, then said: 'Well maybe not, eh?'
A few days later Charles and Elizabeth were seated at the breakfast table, obviously happy now that they had a baby of their own at last. 'I'm amazed at how much he's grown, and in just a few days,' said Charles proudly.
At that point a child entered the room and sat down at the breakfast table. 'Morning mummy,' he said to Elizabeth.
'Morning son,' said Charles.
'My you've grown since last night,' said Elizabeth to her son. 'If you keep on, you'll be as tall as your father.'
'You never knew my father,' said their son.
'Don't be silly son,' said Elizabeth, 'he's sitting right opposite you.'
'That's not my father,' said the son, 'not my real father.'
Charles suddenly burst into tears.
'You've upset your father now, look!' Elizabeth scolded her child.
'I've told you, that's not my real father,' insisted the boy. 'Please can I leave the table now?'
'Yes, okay, run along,' Elizabeth said to him.
'Thank you mother,' said her son, and gave her a kiss on the cheek, before leaving the room.
Elizabeth looked over to Charles, who had now composed himself. 'He's got such nice manners hasn't he? At least that's something,' she said.
That night as Charles and Elizabeth were sat in the front room and their son was upstairs, Charles turned to Elizabeth and said: 'You're going to have to face it - our child is evil!'
Elizabeth shook her head. 'No, he's such a sweet boy, well mannered.'
Charles grabbed the donkey's hoof off the mantelpiece where it had remained since they'd made the wish some days earlier. 'It's this damned thing - I wish I'd never bought it!'
'How can you say that? It's brought us a wonderful son. True he looks at you in a weird way sometimes, goes out after midnight, God knows where, and growls a bit, but he's our son!'
'He's your son, remember?' Charles reminded her. 'He says I'm not his father!'
'He's just a child, Charles.'
'He's a monster!' Charles held the hoof aloft, gripping it tightly, and looking up towards the upstairs where his child's bedroom was.
'Charles, what are you going to do?' asked Elizabeth.
'I'm going to wish him away!'
'No!' Elizabeth said, rising to her feet and dashing towards him. 'You can't do that!'
'I wish -' began Charles.
'No!' cried Elizabeth. She made a grab for the hoof, and they fought over it, but Charles managed to yank it from her.
He stepped away from her, and said: 'I wish our child was gone!'
As soon as he said it, there was a thud upstairs. They both raised their eyes upwards.
'He's dead! You've killed him!' spat Elizabeth at Charles.
'Don't look at me,' said Charles, pointing to the hoof. 'It was the hoof that did it!'
'You wished it though,' said Elizabeth. 'How could you do it? How could you wish our son dead?'
She grabbed the hoof from her husband.
'Put that down!' Charles shouted at her.
'I'm going to use the last wish!' Elizabeth informed him.
'No!' said Charles.
'Yes!' Elizabeth said.
'No, you can't do that!' Charles made a dash for her but it was too late.
'I wish our son back alive!' she said.
They heard a noise upstairs, and then, after a few seconds, the sound of someone coming down.
A few moments later their son walked past the lounge door towards the kitchen. Charles and Elizabeth looked to each other.
When they reached the kitchen their newly returned son was holding a carving knife and advancing towards Charles. 'You killed me, now I'm going to kill you!'
'No - it was the hoof!' said Charles, as his son came at him. 'Come on ... son?'
But the child began to stab at Charles again and again, until Charles dropped down to the floor, dead.
'We'll be happy now mother; now he's gone.' the son said to Elizabeth.
'Yes we will son,' she said, and bent down to give him a kiss on the cheek. 'I never liked him much anyway,' she said, looking at the prone, lifeless body of her husband. 'Now, as for his brother ...' she added.
In D. EVIL & SON, Tom Puck was admiring the mirror with the crack.
'I see you're admiring the mirror,' the proprietor said.
Tom looked towards the odd-looking man. 'Oh I didn't see you standing there.'
'Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you,' said the proprietor.
'Oh that's alright you didn't,' Tom said.
'Oh, I must be losing my touch,' the proprietor said to himself.
'What was that?'
'Oh nothing sir.'
'How much are you asking for it?' Tom asked, admiring the mirror some more.
'I give a fair price and ask a fair price for sale, and if you don't believe me ask the mirror,' the man told Tom.
Tom frowned. 'Ask the mirror?'
'Mirror, mirror, in the shop,' said the proprietor in sing-songy type of voice, 'who is the fairest of the lot?'
They both stared at the mirror.
'It didn't reply,' said Tom with a laugh.
'I heard it sir,' the proprietor said.
'Well let's cut the sales patter, and tell me how much it is.'
'To you sir? £400.'
Tom glanced at the mirror. '£400 pound, for that? It's got a crack!'
'If it didn't have a crack sir, I would be asking for £500,' the man informed him.
'Alright, I'll take it,' Tom conceded.
The proprietor reached forward and lifted the large heavy mirror. 'Ill wrap it for you sir.'
'You can't wrap that big thing!' said Tom, thinking the man insane.
'I wrap everything in my shop sir - it's all part of the service. I give a fair price and ask a fair price for sale and always wrap the items I sell.'
'What a weirdo,' said Tom to himself, as the man disappeared to the other end of the shop.
'What was that sir?' he asked over his shoulder.
'Oh, nothing,' said Tom.
'I thought I heard you say something, under your breath, sir?'
'No I was just clearing my throat.'
'You wouldn't be taking the piss would you sir?' the proprietor called from the back of the shop.
'No of course not,' Tom said.
Tom put the mirror in his and his wife's bedroom, and then drove to a conference in Leeds, leaving his wife alone.
Next morning when he returned home she came down to breakfast and put her arms around him and hugged him. 'You were good last night,' she said to him.
'Last night?' he asked.
'Yes,' she said, lifting her eyes upwards, as if remembering the event, 'bit of an animal really, why can't you always be like that?'
Tom frowned. 'But I didn't make love to you last night I was in Leeds.'
'Oh come on darling, no need to be so shy about it,' she said to him, giving him another hug. 'We'll do it again tonight - and I want you to be just the same with me!'
But that night after they'd had sex and they lay exhausted on the bed, she sighed and turned her head towards him with a look of disappointment on her face. 'Oh what's wrong with you?' she said.
'I'm sorry,' Tom said.
'I knew it was too good to be true - you've never been very good in the bedroom department have you? If things dont improve, I want a divorce!'
Tom got dressed and went out to the pub. When he was gone, someone got into bed with Tom's wife and began to make love to her. It resembled Tom in every detail, but unknown to his wife, the thing was an evil entity that had come out of the mirror.
'Oh that's more like it,' she said, as the thing - whatever it was - made love to her. 'I didn't mean what I said earlier,' she added, 'I'll never divorce you now - ever!'
Next morning Tom woke to the sight of his wife bringing him breakfast in bed.
She winked at him. 'I've brought you breakfast in bed, after all, you have to keep your strength up after last night.'
'Last night?' asked Tom puzzled once more.
'Now you're not going to start getting bashful again are you? I'm not surprised you're so tired after all that humping.'
'Yes,' she said, 'you devil you!'
Tom suddenly took his attention to the mirror, and saw as he gazed into it that his face briefly changed, and something evil was grinning back at him.
He turned to face his wife again, a look of horror on his face. 'It's the mirror!'
'The mirror?' she asked, confused.
'Don't you see?' said Tom. 'Ever since I bought that mirror, some evil entity must have been coming out of it and humping you senseless! Yes, it all makes sense now.'
'What are you talking about?' his wife wanted to know.
He turned back towards the mirror. 'There's a devil in the mirror!'
'There was a devil in this bed last night, that's all I know,' she said.
'It's got to go back!' Tom said, and stepped over to the mirror, grabbing hold of it.
'What are you doing darling?' his wife wanted to know.
'I'm taking the mirror back to that damned shop!'
'Do you have to do that now? Couldn't we just have a quickie?'
'No,' said Tom, taking the mirror towards the door of their bedroom. 'And I can promise you, from now on, there's going to be no devil getting in bed with you at night.'
And with that Tom left the room with the mirror.
'Oh shit!' said his wife, disappointed.
'Can I help you sir?' asked the proprietor of the shop as he returned with the mirror.
'I've brought this blasted mirror back,' Tom said, placing it down in front of the man.
'I see,' said the proprietor. 'What's wrong with it, the crack?'
'It's evil!' said Tom.
The man raised his eyebrows. 'Well, I admit it's not too pretty in a certain light, but evil's a bit strong isn't it sir?'
'Something comes out of this damned thing at night and humps my wife!' Tom snapped.
For the second time the proprietor raised his eyebrows. 'I beg your pardon sir?'
'Something - some evil thing - comes out of it when I'm not around, and has sex with my wife!'
'Are you sure you've not been on the sherry sir, what with it being Christmas and everything?'
'You know what I'm on about,' said Tom.
'Do I sir?'
Suddenly Tom thought of the name written above the front of the shop. 'Of course, why didn't I realise it before?'
'Realise what sir?' the proprietor wanted to know.
'D. Evil and Son!'
'What about it?'
'Devil and son!'
'My,' the man said, 'aren't you the bright one - working that out all on your own.'
'It's true, isn't it?'
'My little secret is out,' he said.
'You evil bastard!'
'Thank you,' the proprietor said, as if he'd been flattered.
'Selling these things -' said Tom looking around the shop, '- and every one has a nasty little surprise, doesn't it!'
'What are you going to do?' the proprietor wanted to know.
'I'm going to go to the police!' threatened Tom.
'And tell them what ... exactly?'
At that moment Tom got a crucifix out of his pocket and held it up towards the proprietor.
'That's vampires sir,' the man said, unaffected.
'Doesn't it work with ...' asked Tom.
The proprietor shook his head, then said: 'Of course, you haven't worked the whole thing out have you?'
'What do you mean?'
'There is one small detail you haven't sussed yet,' the proprietor said, looking rather pleased with himself.
'Well if I'm the Devil, and it says Devil and Son above the shop, there must be ...'
'A son?' said Tom.
'The penny drops.'
'And he's the bastard that's been fucking my wife!'
'She's not complaining,' the man told him, 'from what I've heard.'
At that moment, anger raging, Tom lunged at the proprietor. But before he could harm him, the son leaped out of mirror and grabbed Tom and took him back with him into it.
The proprietor tutted to himself. 'And who's next?' he said. And now he's noticed you - another customer! 'Ah, there you are, what can I do for you?'
He lifts up a watch to show you. 'How about this watch sir, be the perfect gift for Christmas that would, for a loved one, the wife perhaps? It keeps accurate time - only the thing is - everyone who wears it ... well, that would be telling wouldn't it sir? Wouldn't it look nice on the lady's wrist? You give her that, and she'll be all over you tonight sir. You'll be humping her from now until next Christmas! That's if you live that long! Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha!