Perrufi on "Dead Broken Xmas" (Christmas Special) - Luis Fernández

 

🇪🇦 spanish version

23 December

Perrufi was having a terrible time.

He was broke. Huge piles of white snow buried the bills with the outstanding debts that piled up outside his door. He couldn't even pay for the heating. A bad head for business, several unconfessable vices (well, he drank like a cossack and always smoked black tobacco, sorry African-American tobacco) and that his lizard of an ex-wife was fleecing him out of child support for his son Maks.

-I hate my life, I hate the snow, I hate being cold, but what I hate most is being poor, Perrufi kept repeating to himself as he paced the living room of his house for the umpteenth time.

Well, home would be too much for him to say, a shack with four walls that the bank owned, not him. And living room too if your house has only one room that serves as everything (living room, bedroom, kitchen and bathroom). A life of excesses, moreover, had punished him with a southern twang and a spontaneous laugh, which he could not avoid, that prevented him from getting any kind of serious job. To make up for it, he would drink two coffees in the morning, christened with "cheap booze", which brought him nothing but trouble. Perpetually tipsy, he ended up being thrown out of all his jobs. Now, with Christmas approaching, he was as bald as a caretaker's knee. He had no money for presents, and a sore body that only served to blame others... but Perrufi wasn't clumsy or unintelligent, he just had a bad head. His plans were always a resounding success... the problem was that his plans were always shit.

-It's my son's mother's fault, she's ruined my life -Perrufi repeated to himself as he lit a cigarette butt found on the ground -But I have a plan, a good plan.

His marvellous, well-rounded plan was to rob the Christmas Eve mansion of the millionaire uncle of a friend of his, with hardly any knowledge of anything other than some cheap novel about thieves he had read in his childhood. But his plan was foolproof. And round, eh? Round like a bucket! Uncle Brooge, the relative of his friend Patonald, was the richest duck in Duckland. It was said that he had so much money that he bathed in it every day. Three times at least... and naked, the lucky bastard. His nephew was the key to Perrufi's evil plan. Patonald was another loose cannon. He had been unemployed since last year, the oriental shipping container company "The pekingese", where he was spending his time, went bankrupt and now he did nothing but fool around with his trousers off. He had lost them in a bet. Patonald excused himself by saying it was all the fault of the mafia. Or a Jewish-Masonic conspiracy. Or terra-planners. It was always someone else's fault. The same thing that happened to him.

The duck would be the key to reach the millionaire. He would also need the collaboration of his other friend Ratoniki, a mouse who fancied himself a reputable journalist and incorruptible occasional private investigator, who had done nothing more remarkable to date than uncover a biscuit thief who turned out to be himself.

-No more misery... this Christmas Eve, Maks and I are going to dine like lords... yoahuyhui, chuckled Perrufi, rubbing his gloved hands together due to an unhealthy obsession with germs and hydro-alcohol.

24 December morning

The next morning, Perrufi had already phoned Patonald and Ratoniki from the neighbour's house to meet them at the café "The jolly ghost" and invite them to a continental breakfast. Invite them, not pay. Life is too expensive to throw money away. Ratoniki appeared punctually, but with wrinkled ears and a bad shave.

-I had a bad night. Mika has a bad temper and sent me back to sleep on the sofa with my faithful Bluto. Mika says I'm a failure, a swindler, a fraud. What's my fault that no one in this world wants to know the truth? I certainly try very hard, but people don't read my blog "Twenty-fifth ring of purgatory" and as I don't sell myself to anyone, I'm an upright mouse, but nobody reads me," said a very dignified and haggard Ratoniki while he dipped the biscuit that had been free with his coffee.

Indeed, sleeping near Bluto was not going well for the mice.

At that very moment, a deafening boom, several engine backfires and a black cloud announced that Patonald had arrived with his car in the parking lot. A large, dark cloud enveloped the vehicle and as he jumped out of the car, Patonald resembled Lukas, the infamous duck from the neighbouring village.

-What's up, guys! -he squawked as he asked the waiter for a double coffee.

The waiter didn't understand him as his voice was just as incomprehensible as Perrufi's.

-Didn't you hear me, blockhead? -Patonald was emboldened, adopting his unique way of jumping on one of his feet, arms in boxing position, while shouting incoherently.

The slap he received from the waiter left him sitting quietly to Perrufi's left, with one blue eye and little desire to goof off.

-You're going to lose your tip! -the duck threatened him in a low voice.

That was another of Patonald's many faults, he didn't know when to stop and had a serious anger management problem.

-I'm going to explain the plan in detail, so pay attention, -said Perrufi as he dipped his biscuit in Patonald's coffee.

The original plan was not the one he told of next. It was one that involved digging a long tunnel from his house to under the vault. But he discarded it, as he had no kidneys for that sort of thing. Digging for days with those princely hands? Get out of the way, get out of the way. Besides, that had to be thought of beforehand... not everything at the last minute with hardly any time or tools. The second plan was better.

-The duck will ask his uncle to meet today, -Perrufi began to explain his rounded plan -in the late afternoon, in the office of his vault. The reason? Ratoniki, an unbribable journalist not tied to any established power, was going to give him an exclusive interview praising his great gifts for amassing money (and bathing in it). While the blameless mice interviewed him. Patonald would open the only window in the building and release a rope through which I would later climb inside. Once the interview is over, the three of you will leave the building, in a hurry to celebrate Christmas at home. The alarm won't sound because when it goes off, the window will already be open. Once inside, I'll take as much money as I can, and Uncle Brooge lucky coin. I'll sell that one to that witch's paw with the wavy hair, whose name no one remembers. And I'll go back the same way I came.

-Have you understand me? -asked Perrufi, finger raised and eyes closed.

-No -they both answered in unison.

-My lord, Patonald leaves the only window open, whoopsidaisies, and lets go of the rope. Ratoniki entertains the old duck -replied an increasingly upset Perrufi.

-Ah, ok -they replied with an expression on their faces that indicated they still haven't understand anything.

-And how do we get in? -asked Ratoniki hesitantly.

- You'll already be inside for the interview! -barked Perrufi (never better said).

-All you have to do is open the window and let go of a rope -Perrufi explained again, as he tapped his gloved hand energetically on the restaurant table.

-What rope? -asked Patonald.

-The one you'll have hidden in your trousers -replied an irate Perrufi.

-What trousers? -asked Patonald again, indicating with both hands that he wasn't wearing any.

-Well, let Ratoniki hide it then! -replied Perrufi, putting his hands to his temples. He was getting a splitting headache.

-Ahhhh... I understand -they both replied.

Before leaving, Perrufi reminded them that letting go of the rope meant attaching it to a handle beforehand and not just dropping it out of the window. And that they would also pay the bill, that he had forgotten his wallet.

December 24th in the afternoon

Crouched behind some trees, Perrufi watched Uncle Brooge's window with stolen binoculars. "Everything is going great. They're already inside. This plan was a sponge cake of pure syrup. All that's left now is for Patonald to slide the rope through the window". And sure enough, the duck opened the window, leaned out, dropped his cap and then dropped almost 100 metres of rope down the wall. Admittedly, Ratoniki had very big trousers to hide all those metres of rope. "But... I have about 130 metres to the window! By Lassie's false teeth! How am I going to cover that distance? -wondered an astonished Perrufi making calculations with his fingers and toes. These inconveniences and problems gave Perrufi terrible heartburn as he clutched his belly with both hands. -What a heartburn. And on top of that it was starting to snow. Damn snow.

As Uncle Brooge closed the office door, he asked his nephew -Didn't you come here with a cap? Patonald pretended to be a fool and left with his hands in his pockets, sorry, in his feathers.

Thank goodness Perrufi hadn't been born yesterday and, rummaging in his rucksack, he found some shoes with springs in the soles worthy of the great Patomias. A couple of jumps and holding on to the rope shouldn't be a problem. And while he was at it, he avoided the mangy and extremely bloodthirsty dogs that roamed and guarded the house. The dogs were distant cousins of him. But he had not spoken to them for a long time because of a land dispute.

If now you ask yourselves how it is possible that Perrufi, being a dog, could walk on two legs, and other dogs only knew how to bark, move on all fours, sniff their asses and froth; I must confess that there have been and there will be classes everywhere. And don't get so excited that when I told you the story of Ratoniki's argument and the fact that he went to sleep on the sofa with Bluto, you weren't the least bit interested in the dog's situation. You thought it was super normal.

Perrufi took off at a run and, in no time at all, was already smashed against the wall. All his teeth, with the exception of the two front teeth (with which he managed to catch the rope), fell down the wall like someone throwing a piano keyboard from an eighth floor without a lift. The wall was anything but easy to climb. It was smoother than his bank account, but if you have such beautiful feet, size 56, like our protagonist, which allow you to go skiing without skis every year, this was no problem: And in a ridiculous amount of time (2 exhausting clock hours), he had already reached the window and et voilá... he had slipped inside... yoahuyhui.

Now it was time to sew and collect coins, or sing and bake, I don't know any more. I inspected the beautiful office of Brooge McDuck and started sweating like crazy.

-It's so hot, my dear mother. It's because of the window -Perrufi convinced himself -I'll close it.

He closed it and all the alarms went off. The whole room was flooded with a piercing sound and vivid red colours in the shade of the one-piece pyjamas with a back opening (100% cotton) that our protagonist used to wear on nights when the cold was biting. They were frequent with the cardboard walls of his house.

Perrufi didn't know where to get in, the now magnetically closed window prevented him from jumping through it head first. I'm going to get caught for being an oaf, what am I going to do if I don't know how. It's all my ex-wife's fault, he kept repeating to himself. But suddenly, a ray of hope, accompanied by a chorus of angelic voices, appeared. A half-hidden opening to the right of the main door read "Descent into the vault" and promised a direct ramp into the money pit. Perrufi jumped feet first, sparking, yelping like a helpless puppy, his tongue licking his cheek and his teeth chattering. He threw up his arms -"While we are at it...! -He hoped they wouldn't take a photo of him, like when you go to an amusement park and ride a ride. Above him, machine guns began to devastate the office. At a speed of 80 km/h he would reach the lower floor in record time. And so it was, seconds later he plunged, with the teeth on first place, into the old duck's sea of coins, jewellery and diamonds. Two flips and a double flip. "What a pain!" The alarms had stopped ringing and only silence and ugly darkness remained.

Caught on Christmas Day in a sea of money, he huffed resignedly. A terrible certainty worked its way into his head. He was going to spend the whole night alone, surrounded by millions of duck-dollars, but far from the most precious thing in his life... his son and his idiot friends, his family after all. What for? The damned greed had blinded him again, like that year when he ate 45 calamari sandwiches at the village festivities to impress Vacabella, who would end up making out, the very foolish girl, with that horse with the wooden medallion around his neck. For his part, he ended up in a bad way, behind a hut, throwing his livers out. There, too, he realised that he had to chew more.

Perrufi's greatest treasure was not money. It was his family. I don't want to be away from my son tonight. I know I don't have much, I have made many mistakes, but I have been by his side. I have laughed and cried with him. He may not love me for the rest of his life, but I will love him for the rest of mine. Perrufi approached, determined to set off the emergency alarm. Let them come and get me, I'd rather be in a police cell and see my son for five minutes tonight, than stay here alone, surrounded by the most insignificant of things... the vile pecunium. Tonight there would be no yoahuyhui and a lot of ayayay.

Perrufi pressed the button. Ten minutes later, the security gate opened and a horde of policemen (I think they are also some kind of undefined dogs) ordered:

-Hands up, this party is over - pointing in their direction.

Perrufi took off his beanie, revealing his incipient bald head, and nervously squeezed his cap in his hands. Before he could say anything in his defence, the gang of the Robbers came out behind him resignedly, arms raised in the air. They had been there all along, hiding, perpetrating all sorts of misdeeds! The commissioner shook Perrufi's hand, thinking that he must have been the brave security guard that night. He thanked him for setting off the alarm and preventing another vicious gang robbery. Someone took a photo. Perrufi replied that that was what he was paid for and walked away whistling... yoahuyhui.

24 December evening

Shortly afterwards he arrived home. Music and cheerful voices from inside. He cautiously opened the door and his joy could not have been greater. All his friends were there waiting for him to celebrate Christmas. A beautiful fire warmed the room and there wasn't a bookshelf that wasn't decorated with the fat Coca-Cola man and the drunken reindeer with the red nose.

-But what's this for? -he asked in surprise.

Ratoniki answered first:

-You will not be alone tonight, not this night or any other. We are your friends, and we will always be by your side. Patonald spoke to his uncle and convinced him that necessity makes strange bedfellows, but that, thanks to you, a greater evil was averted. The old duck won't press charges, he has settled all your many debts and will hire you as head of security. How about that?

Perrufi didn't know what to say, for the first time in years his heart burned with happiness, his chest was on fire (he hoped he wasn't having a heart attack)... but he still had no gifts for his son. Maks approached him with a chuckle.

-Dad, I know what you think, but the best present has always been you. The best Dad in the world. I don't want the latest Patonite videogame or any such nonsense. I've already got it. I just want you by my side. Mum thinks so too and she's going to give you another chance.

Perrufi was beside himself with joy.

-Is everything you're telling me true? -smiled a toothy Perrufi, as his ears swirled around each other.

-Well, uh... not about Mama. She's got a new boyfriend, a horse with a wooden medallion, and she says you're a lout and a fraud like your friends -replied a resigned Maks.

Patonald called loudly for dinner at the table. No one understood him and he had to say it four more times. But in the end, everyone dined, drank (more than enough) and celebrated Christmas properly. Surrounded by the people you love the most. Those are the good ones.

PS: Perrufi ended up throwing his livers out the next day. "Never again", he promised himself. He didn't keep it, but that's another story to be told another day.

Merry Christmas to all

This Christmas story is a tribute to the two great characters Rufino, the big bad wolf of the forest, and the little devil Max. Both by Klaus Fernández.

Without their constant improvements and Klausisms, this story wouldn't be half as funny.

Thanks to Alberto Jiménez for all the laughs, advice and the final names of Perrufi, Patonald and Ratoniki.

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