'Tis The Season

“No,” newly-elected Mayor Gil said firmly. “I will not preside over the lighting of the Christmas tree. I’ll make an appearance on Christmas morning. That’s the best you get."

“But it’s tradition,” Paul argued. “The Mayor flips the switch, the tree lights up, and the little kids sing carols. It’s adorable. You can’t buy PR that good.”

“Take another look at the calendar, Paul. It’s inside the full-moon cycle.”

“Sir, nobody cares that you’re a squirrel.”

“Last time I went out after dark I got chased by a cat.”

“A real cat, sir, not one of us. It was shifters who drove it off, remember?”

“Yeah,” Gil grumbled. “Two wolf pups. Mayor of friggin’ Talbot’s Peak and I owe my tail to a couple of puppies. Who’s going to respect me after this? Then their mom gave me this huge mug of coffee. Like a squirrel needs coffee. I’m twitchy enough.”

“Relax, sir. Nobody respected Mayor Link and he stayed in office for years.”

“That’s so encouraging.” Gil suddenly leaned out his office window, the one facing the square and the gaily-decorated blue spruce. “Hey, you! Yeah, you, Fido. Lay off the tree! That ain’t what it’s for.” He leaned back and shut the window with a sigh. “There’s no way to stop them, is there? Or the cats from sharpening their claws.”

“Most of the residents respect the tree, but you know how it is, sir. There’s always a few. We could put up a fence, but that defeats the purpose. If it’s any consolation, they do leave the ornaments alone.”

“Whoopie for that.” Gil sat at his desk and thought deeply for a moment. “Okay, I’ll light the tree, but I want security."

“As Mayor, you run the police department, sir.”

“Does Officer Gordon chase squirrels?”

“He’s never been known to, sir.”

“Make sure there’s some nice big herbivores out there, just to be on the safe side. What if I was to”—Gil shuddered, then continued—“scamper up the tree and put the star on top?”

“The people would love you, sir.”

“That’s what I was afraid of. Is there any way at all I can ban cameras from the square? Just for the ceremony?” Paul gave a somber shake of his head. Gil echoed it. “That’s what I was afraid of. Well, I can still hide Louie’s camera. I can save myself that, at least.” Another hideous notion occurred to him. “I don’t have to sing with the kids, do I?”

“Mayor Link never did, sir. However, he used to dress up as Santa and hand out presents at the Toys for Tots box at the pet shop.”

“No way I’m gonna pass for Santa, even with a pillow. Wait, I got it.” Gil grinned evilly. “Louie don’t know it yet, but he just volunteered.”

“He definitely has the girth for it, sir.”

“You can say that again. Serve him right for—yeah. One other thing. This isn’t exactly a law or a proclamation or whatever, but … anybody who sings ‘The Chipmunk Song’ anywhere near me is gonna get a candy cane where the sun never shines. Especially if they do it in a high voice. Kind’a spread the word around, wouldja?”

“I’ll start at Elly’s diner. It should radiate out from there.”

“Thanks, Paul. You’re a lifesaver, you know that?”

“It’s my job, sir. Though I never object to any extras in my stocking, if you catch my drift.”

“You’re drifting loud and clear, kid. I work with a rat, remember? Okay, I’ll light the damn tree, I don’t have to sing, and you and the staff get bonuses. We covered?”

“God bless us every one, sir.”

“Yeah.” Gil leaned on his desk. “Ho ho friggin’ ho.”