Following dinner, I dozed, sitting up and still clad in full combat gear, on the couch for a few hours. It was the middle of the night when I awoke with a start. I snatched up Sproom and surveyed the area, but saw no sign of ALmond.

When I crossed through the kitchen, I saw that the little monster had cleaned up the table. The plate was in the sink, the pizza box in the trash, and the bowl of almonds moved back on the island. Spuds had been pretty spot-on about its unpredictable behavior.

With the basement done I headed upstairs. It was a nerve-wracking search. Knowing that ALmond could squeeze its round ass into just about anything made opening even the smallest container an exercise in trepidation. I sorted through Beth’s office and the guest room and left with a combined nine almonds.

Next up was our bedroom. I dumped out the drawers, unfolded socks, tossed underwear around, and basically ransacked the place. After stripping the bed and going through the nightstand I had ten more.

That meant there were only five left somewhere in this house. I started to feel a bit of hope creep into me that this could be over soon.

ALmond dropped out of the hole in the ceiling, landed on my back, and dug a taloned hand into my shoulder. With its other hand it snatched my helmet off, and, in just a dishonorable display, began beating me over the head with it. Like a bronco with a seasoned rider, I bucked all over the room. ALmond remained undeterred. The helmet rained down and the talon wrenched around mercilessly in my shoulder. I could feel the warm wetness of blood running down my shirt.

Flailing around was doing me no good. I had to strategize. I steadied myself, put my back towards the wall, and slammed into it, hoping to smash the little monster in between.

Once again, ALmond proved too fast. It let go, dropped to the floor, and allowed me to bear the brunt of slamming into the wall. It crouched behind me and when it scrambled away it passed between my legs, its talons held wide so that it clawed both my calves as it went. The pain drove me to my knees.

ALmond paused in the doorway until my eyes had cleared enough from the pain-induced watering to see it. In another show-off moment, it squeezed the helmet between its claws, crushing it like it was made of tin foil. Then it dropped it dismissively and disappeared into the hall.

It took me a while to recover from the savage and sudden beatdown. The momentary elation I had felt at whittling my almond count to five had vanished completely.

I limped into the hall and ducked into the bathroom. This search proved fruitless. When I moved on, I realized that I had left a trail of crimson drips on the tile. I had multiple bleeding lacerations and I wondered how long I could last.

Back downstairs I headed for the powder room by the front door. I didn’t recall shutting this door, but it was closed when I got there and, due to fatigue or blood loss, I simply pushed it open. I paid for this recklessness immediately when ALmond threw the porcelain lid of the toilet at me.

The lid hit me in the right shoulder, spun me around, and put me on my ass. With enough fight/flight adrenaline flowing now I managed to get to my feet and have Sproom aimed before the beast could attack.

Now I went after it, jabbing repeatedly with my homemade spear. ALmond was shaped like a beach ball but moved like an Olympic fencer. At one point I was sure I had it cornered. However, at the last moment, like a seasoned bullfighter, ALmond stepped aside with an ole’ flourish and I drove the spear straight into the wall, the knife-end plunging deep into the plasterboard.

Frantically, I yanked Sproom free for another strike, but ALmond locked a talon around the end and, despite my whole body pulling in the opposite direction, easily held it in place. I may as well have been tugging against a fire hydrant. With casual ease, like a refined diner about to take the first bite of a delicacy, the little beast leaned over and bit the end off of my weapon.

The sudden release of resistance on Sproom (now just a broom again) sent me stumbling backward, but I managed to catch my balance before falling. ALmond removed the Sproom spear-tip (now just a knife) from the wall with a flourish, much like an ancient king pulling a sword from a stone. Even with its misshapen hands, it twirled the blade with phenomenal grace, clearly attempting to intimidate me with its showmanship.

Show-off.

It was happening just as Spuds said it would. Instead of wilting under the display I flipped the broom in my grip, rushed forward, and swung it in a wide sweeping motion. Certainly, the brush end of a broom didn’t make a particularly good weapon, but it was wide, and the beastie failed to dodge it. The bristles swatted it off its feet and sent it sliding across the hardwood.

My victory was short-lived as ALmond rolled back to its clawed feet almost immediately. Knocking it over seem fruitless, like attempting to tip over a bowling ball. I did, however, really piss it off. At least I had the reach on it, and I jabbed the broom defensively to keep it at distance. However, it had no intention of charging. Instead, it hurled the steak knife at me.

I like to think I instinctively, and impressively, snapped my head to the side to dodge the blade. The reality is that I just don’t think ALmond wanted to kill me yet. The knife grazed my ear and thudded into the wall. It left a painful and bloody, but ultimately superficial cut, just as the little bastard seemed to have intended.

The surprises kept coming. In lieu of pressing the attack, ALmond turned and did that weird wobble/run into the powder room and, without touching the door, slammed it shut.

It was oddly surreal to be suddenly alone. I kept the broken broom aimed at the bathroom door long enough to start to feel stupid. I didn’t get the chance to search the powder room and I sure as hell wasn’t going in there now. Instead, I turned and headed for the dining room.

It wasn’t a room we used a lot, and it didn’t have much in the way of furniture. With just Beth and I living there, we didn’t do a lot of dinner parties. I searched the chairs and then circled the table to the window that looked out into the backyard. I checked the sill and frame but found nothing. When I turned back around ALmond stood in the middle of the table.

Its lips curled back, sharp, nasty teeth on display. The ugliness of it cruelly juxtaposed with the cute elven outfit it wore.

“I don’t suppose you could give me a hint?” I asked it.

The snarling visage abruptly vanished. The lips dropped to conceal the teeth and the wrinkled rage smoothed away. A talon went to its chin, tapped it as if the thing was in deep consideration.

I was stunned. I’d asked it rhetorically and certainly hadn’t expected an answer. Maybe no one had ever bothered talking to it?

After several long seconds, ALmond took the talon from its chin and flicked it against the bell on its stolen hat. The bell? There was an almond in the bell? In the hat? That just seemed patently unfair for the deadly monster to be carrying one around.

My puzzlement must have shown on my face because ALmond gave a slight shake of its head, like a disappointed tutor, before it tapped each of the bells on the vest. Now it was hiding some in its vest? I shook my head, trying to clear the blood-loss cobwebs from my brain. I just couldn’t think clearly.

Then, out of nowhere, like a magician’s parlor trick, ALmond suddenly held scissors. Somehow, with its misshapen, gnarled hands, it managed to snip them in the air.

I still didn’t get it and started to feel like an idiot. Panic began to set in that I wasn’t going to figure it out and ALmond’s sudden cooperation would go to waste. “C’mon. You can magically squeeze into a shoebox and disappear into thin air, but you can’t just tell me?”

It folded its arms and tapped a foot impatiently. Then, with a sudden ah-ha moment, it took the scissors and held them against the hat, almost like a soldiers’ salute.

Oh. It dawned on me.

“There are almonds inside of Santa Bear,” I said out loud.

ALmond gave me an exasperated nod, immediately put back on its snarling, vicious expression, and threw the scissors at me. Its aim, as always, was true. However, the blades were old and dull, so when they hit me in the forehead, they didn’t stick into my skull like a spear but instead bounced off. The blow still left me with a new, painful gash that immediately dripped blood between my eyes.

Then ALmond charged across the dinner table, clawed toes clacking on the wood surface. Behind me was a wall and ALmond would easily leap on me if I attempted to run around either side of the table. So instead, I ducked under it, immediately tucking into a crawl and scrambling for the other end as ALmond raged above me.

While I may have caught it unaware with my move, the beast was still too fast. ALmond dropped off the side of the table, snagged my left foot, and began to effortlessly haul me back. Knowing I couldn’t out-muscle the stuffed-animal-sized mutant, I rolled to my back, drew back my free leg, and fired a kick at its ugly mug.

Once again, I was outsmarted. ALmond simply lifted a talon, pointed it at the bottom of my foot, and let my own momentum drive it home. The claw sliced cleanly through the sole of my shoe and into my heel, all without the little bastard exerting itself at all. I howled in pain.

My feet—one snatched and one skewered—were now both restrained. ALmond had me under the table like a pregnant woman in stirrups. I sat up quickly, hoping to launch a presumably hapless punch at it, but I didn’t get the chance as I banged my forehead scissor wound into the bottom of the table. The blast of pain made my eyes water and I flopped back to the floor. ALmond didn’t have to do anything at all as I kicked my own ass.

Think, I yelled inside my head. Much like with my battle against the squirrels I was overmatched physically. I had to outsmart it, which didn’t bode well for me either.

“Can you wait a minute?” I shouted at it.

It froze.

My sudden theory was confirmed. Asking it questions seemed to distract it, or at least stall its aggression, as it seemed curious to hear what I had to say.

ALmond snapped out of its daze and started to tug me closer.

“Can you give me another hint?”

It didn’t work this time. Maybe I couldn’t repeat questions?

“Hey, is this table oak or pine?” I asked.

This got its attention. It stopped reeling me in and slowly, quizzically, looked upward.

I didn’t wait this time. I yanked both feet towards me, pulling free from its grasp and its impaling talon. Then I kicked back, catching it in the face with two heels and sending it tumbling across the floor.

Free now, I crawled as fast as I could manage from under the table, lurched to my feet, and hobbled to the living room. Both of my socks were soaked with blood and my shoes squished with each step.

Santa Bear still sat under the tree. I grabbed him up and started pulling the stuffing out through the rip Almond had made when it cut off the hat. The creature hadn’t lied. Along with the white, fluffy padding came almonds. One. Two. I kept digging around in Santa’s Bear’s rapidly deflating head. Three. Four. Then no more.

That was it.

I was still one short.

The almond bowl now sat on the fireplace mantle and I could only assume ALmond had put it there for just this moment. Nice of it, to save me a walk to the kitchen with my injured foot. One by one, I dropped the almonds in.

“All...”

I heard the thing whisper and I looked over my shoulder.

ALmond dangled from the Christmas Tree, looking very much like King Kong hanging from the Empire State Building. It let me turn all the way around to face it before it leaped. With monkey-like agility, it sailed through the air and, with a clenched, misshapen fist, socked me right in the face.

Contrary to what action movies portray, it’s difficult to knock a human being unconscious for longer than a few minutes. With this in mind, I was sure I wasn’t out for very long and when the brain fog evaporated, I sat up.

I was alone and the room was dark except for the colorful glow of Christmas lights. On the coffee table sat the bowl of almonds, a bottle of scotch, an empty glass, a bottle of ibuprofen, and an ice pack.

ALmond was a considerate murderous monster. I supposed that was the best kind if you had to deal with one.

I flopped onto the couch, downed a glass with a handful of pills, and then slapped the ice pack to my swollen cheek. The note on top of the almonds now read “1”.

One more. Just one damn more.

I supposed that I should get up and address my multiple bleeding wounds. ALmond’s kindness was probably maxed out and the monster wouldn’t be bringing me bandages or calling me an ambulance. But just a few minutes on the couch was all I needed, I convinced myself. Just a few minutes with my head back on the cushion. Just a few minutes of rest.

Then blackness.