It had been a particularly challenging day with many patients displaying symptoms of an aggressive influenza, for which there was little he could do except advise them to drink copiously and retire to bedlam till the New Year.
This somewhat lacklustre counsel had been met with derision by most, who, the working classes at their lowest ebb, expected something of a cure-all from the good Doctor.
Alas, he wasn't a quack proffering elixirs and potions from the rear of a cart, but a trained general practitioner facing the worst outbreak of flu in decades.
Medicine was still at a loss and so was he.
And so it was, resigned to the hopeless situation, he ventured to cheer up his wife and himself by bringing some much-needed cheer and modernity to their parlour that Yuletide.
He had that morning ordered from the market stall that fashionable trinket, Prince Albert's new toy, the Christmas tree. It was to be delivered that afternoon.
"Cuthbert dear, is that you darling?"
His beautiful, diminutive wife of five joyous years came bounding down the hall and threw her arms round him.
"Why, Mavis, my dear, to what do I owe the pleasure of such an amicable welcome?" Laughed the doctor as he pecked her on the cheek.
"It's gorgeous, it's gorgeous! Come see, come see!"
Mavis dragged her bemused husband into the living room, where standing next to the burning grate was a fabulous and tall, green fir tree, garnished with garlands, bows and glistening glass kügeln.
Wondrous to see inside the house, the tree was indeed quite magical.
It sparkled like a jewel in the firelight and Cuthbert, like his wife, was overwhelmed by its simple but natural glamour.
"Don't you think it's marvellous darling?"
"I do dear, I do. The market holder's done a fine job indeed. It's really quite splendid, I agree."
"Oh thank you, thank you Cuthbert, I cannot wait to entertain our friends. They will be so impressed with our royal tree! It will be the talk of the crescent!"
Cuthbert poured two glasses of sherry and offered one to Mavis.
"A toast my darling, to Prince Albert and Queen Victoria and their glorious inspiration for our new Christmas ornament."
They raised their glasses to the tree and so began a most benevolent weekend of visitations from family and friends all eager to view our Yuletide Spectacle.
"All we have is a meagre Christmas log Cuthbert!"
"Yes, our house has but a paltry wreath of mistletoe Mavis!"
All agreed the new regal toy was a marvel and everyone enquired as to where they might purchase one.
"I'm afraid this was the last one on the market my dears. The Royals had caused somewhat of a mad dash I suspect. Theirs was German of course. Ours is patriotically British, although we will indeed go Teutonic next year as well I expect. We must support our Prince and Queen must we not."
"Here, here, Cuthbert!"
"Good show Mavis!"
With a warm glow on their countenances from the weekend's reverie, the working week began once more and Cuthbert was as usual busy with his city GP practice and Mavis attending to the household, with the help of Winnifred the servant girl.
Sadly, the weekend's joy quickly faded as the newly sick turned up in droves at the surgery, all in the throes of a dreadful influenza. The reception clerk, Miss. Dobbs, was completely overwhelmed and the practice had to be temporarily closed for a day, much to the utter disgust of the aggrieved patients who hammered on the locked door and spat at the windows.
Besides, Miss. Dobbs had already alerted the doctor to her own sniffles and the next day she sent a boy round confirming that she too had succumbed to what was now being called the Russian flu.
Doctor Cuthbert did the best he could without Dobbs, but in the end, having run out completely of quinine and other medications, all as it happens proving wholly useless against this viral onslaught, he closed the practice early until fresh supplies arrived, but even those would be pointless.
Returning home he noticed that the London streets were virtually empty, a most unusual occurrence given the proximity to Christmas proper and realized that the flu outbreak was far worse than even he imagined.
On the corner where the market stood he saw the stall holder who had sold him the tree coughing violently and vomiting into the gutter, before mounting his cart and quickly driving away from the now empty stands.
"It's dreadful out there darling, really quite awful, far worse than I'd thought. It's unstoppable!" exclaimed Cuthbert to Mavis as he handed his coat to a worried-looking Winnifred.
"Never mind my dear; Come, sit by the fire and I will bring you a glass of sherry and a slice of the seasonal cake I've baked. It's been really quite a pleasant day at home I must say".
Cuthbert did what had been suggested and slowly the benevolence of the household began to seep into his mind and body and he sat back admiring the new twinkling tinsel and baubles with his drink.
It was then that he first saw the thing in the Christmas tree.
It was hiding in the shadows at the rear, where the firelight was weakest and clinging to the trunk.
Cuthbert peered into the branches and the thing coughed and spat at him, cursing and chuntering as it crouched on all fours. It glared at the doctor intently with black eyes, but despite its apparent malevolence, he felt pity towards it, as it was clearly lost.
Holding out his hand in a gesture of kindness and goodwill, the creature crawled out of the fir and onto Cuthbert's open palm.
It was indeed a strange creature, all but six inches in length; dark purple in colour, without any fur, a bulbous bald head, it's face mostly made up of a huge mouth with but a few large molars, slit nostrils and spindly legs and arms capped with wiry fingers and toes. Betwixt his stringy thighs was a bloated scrotum and long thick phallus, altogether out of kilter with the rest of the the slender thing.
It hissed and grimaced at the doctor, gnashing it's teeth and slapping his palm, eyeing him up all the while.
Cuthbert continued to pity the beast; most certainly far from home, he began to consider whether it might be some form of miniature monkey or mandrill escaped from the zoo.
Looking closer the creature suddenly stood up on his palm.
"You think me hideous do you not?"
The doctor very nearly jumped off his chair. Indeed, his sherry glass went flying, as did the remains of his wife's new cake.
"You can speak!"
"Well, of course I can. I just had to listen to how you did it. "
"You're copying how I talk?"
"Yes, but that's not the best of it."
The small being sat cross-legged on the arm of the chair.
"I have an proposal to make you, which will be of mutual advantage to us both I wager."
"An proposal? What kind of proposal?"
"The kind where you and your pretty wife stay healthy, along with your family and friends. That kind!"
"I beg your pardon! Do you mean you can protect us from the flu pandemic?"
"Why yes, Doctor! by Jove, think you've got it! Not only do we spread the sickness, we can stop it!"
"What! Preposterous! But let me humour you for a second. What exactly would you want in return for this for miraculous service that not even the medical profession can provide? "
"A small thing really, of no great import. I wish simply to sleep with your wife every night between Christmas and New Year."
"My wife! Mavis! You want to sleep with my wife!"
"Yes, Mavis. I want to have my way with her. Winnifred too but that would be a bonus. What do you say good Doctor!"
"No! Absolutely not! It's outrageous! Besides which I shall be returning you to the London Zoological Garden on the morrow!"
"I'm not a monkey Doctor. I'm a sprite!"
"A what?"
"A sprite, a woodland imp, a sort of goblin. We spread disease, lies, rumours. You name it. The opposite too if the mood takes us. And yes, I came with the tree. That blaggard of a market trader raided the ancient wood and brazenly cut down twenty firs including mine! .... I'm livid with that greedy pig. It's the breeding season and I'm on heat but here I am. In your house, so let's make the best of it. I can help you. But remember, I'm not to be trifled with Doctor! Heed my words, if you do not accept the terms of my offer then all hell with break loose in this rather lovely household and you, your wife, your servant and all your circle of friends and family will die an agonizing death, as sure as the millions of other poor unfortunates around the city already. Do you understand?"
"Yes! You damnable devil, it's a terrible deal you broker, a scandalous heathen suggestion and one I shall never forgive myself for accepting. But, goblin, remember, I shall never forgive you either."
"Of course, of course, one day you'll wring my scrawny neck and feed my balls to next door's Doberman! I've heard it all before Doc. But when you and everyone you love are still enjoying rude health, when the lethal outbreak wilts in the new year you'll be thanking me for having done nothing but simply bone your wife and servant every night."
"So be it, wretched imp! When does this heinous pact commence?"
"Tonight! Christmas Eve! I'm horny so why not celebrate and invite all your friends and family to a sumptuous party? I guarantee an endless supply of the finest provisions for them all and as long as they're near to me every evening for a week, until the morning of New Year, they'll all remain well. You shall want for nothing. I vow it."
And so Cuthbert and Mavis entertained their entire circle over the festive days, partying till the early hours with all the aplomb that Mavis always brought to such occasions, but this time with a seemingly unlimited supply of fresh produce delivered to her door everyday.
There was wine, claret, sherry, sweetmeats, chocolates, pralines, fruits, capons, truffles, cheese and hams, amongst a myriad other delights packed in beautiful hampers and all, as Cuthbert assured her whilst hugging her more tightly than ever before, yet unable to look her in the eye, the result of hard work, fastidiousness and their sheer good fortune.
Mavis, a truly remarkable hostess it was agreed by all, retired to bed exhausted every night. With the gaslight off, it was during her tender yawning and stretching that Cuthbert kissed her gently but profusely on the neck and sensitively and gradually summoned her to complete arousal. With a tear in his eye and an unbearable burden on his soul, at the climactic moment he would secrete the goblin into bed and thus, engorged as it was, allow it to industriously pleasure his wife whilst he feigned his own attendance with moans and groans.
His wife would scream with pleasure as the pounding imp brought her to climax, all the while believing this unbridled and new-found artistry to be that of her dear husband, who, she reasoned, had simply tapped fresh reservoirs of passion for Christmas. And thank heavens he had! The whole of London was sick as dogs and they were eating like Royals and rutting like rabbits! It was heaven and just maybe a growing family to boot!
It was New Years Eve when Cuthbert faltered. A day too soon.
He simply couldn't stomach any more of this immorality in his home. He'd had enough. The sprite had to go. No more. Not one more night. He was done. He would not let his beloved wife be ravaged by this boggart again!
And so it was that night, as the partygoers left the house for the final time, Cuthbert walked an overly exhausted Mavis to the sofa in the second parlour, where a fire was blazing in the darkness. He laid her down, draped a blanket over her and kissed her goodnight.
After a detour to the kitchen he stole himself upstairs, turned off the lamp and got into bed. It wasn't long before the goblin crawled from it's tree and clambered up the stairs, where it found the Doctor already heated up.
Climbing into bed, the imp mounted Mavis and began it's furtive humping for the final time.
"One last time Doc and we're done. Like me, now, I'm done toooooooo!"
The little devil held tightly to its quarry and peaked dramatically. It slapped her white rump, only then realising that it was considerably smaller than normal.
Suspicious, it threw back the covers and in the moonlight shining through the crack in the curtains the panting creature could plainly see what it had been boning.
A large uncooked turkey from the pantry.
Outraged, the sprite roared with fury, but before it could remove itself from the bird, Cuthbert swiftly and deftly wrapped up both it and the turkey in the bedsheet, tied a tight knot and threw it outside into the rubbish heap, together with that damned Christmas tree.
The New Year bin men would be along any minute to take them both to the city's tip!
Good riddance too!
Ringing his hands in the joy of victory he shouted almost hysterically at the sack now writhing on the pile of bones and bottles.
"Not so clever now are you you heathen rut monkey! You didn't see old Doctor Cuthbert coming with that did you! No! There'll be no more Mavis for you, she's mine, I tell you, mine!"
"Be it on your own head Doctor! I warned you you fool. Our deal is off. You reap what you sow. And oh, my little gift, it's all yours! Enjoy!" Came the reply from the sack, the creature chuckling away.
At this, Doctor Cuthbert, mucous dribbling from his nose, went back inside, slamming the door shut. He quietly entered the second parlour, where to his absolute horror, he found his beloved Mavis sprawled on the floor racked with pain, dripping wet with a lethal fever, her nightdress sodden with gore, tearing at her jolting loins as hot fluids gushed out. She spasmed and died violently vomiting spume and blood into her husband's face.
Winnifred then burst into the room screaming in agony as she was consumed by the fangs of the hateful infection and she fell head-first into the blazing grate.
Holding his head in his hands and sobbing uncontrollably, Cuthbert heard a pounding on the front door. Opening it, all his and Mavis's family and friends fell into the hallway shrieking in pain, a parody of human life, as they convulsed on top of each other, snot and spit lashing everywhere as the influenza cooked their ragged lungs.
Death, carnage, mayhem, havoc. Like the imp had promised, it was all around him, as the fires of Hell did indeed burn brighter that New Years day in London town.
And as the now-delirious doctor, himself burning up with sickness, staggered back to his dead wife, it was then he saw the egregious thing shambling across the rug from between her bloodied legs,
A baby goblin staring up at him, smiling, mouthing three terrible words:
Happy New Year!
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