Free When Elves Attack by Tim Dorsey

never left the house for weeks until all his clothes were on fire in the driveway, and those college kids who left the door open and played Pink Floyd all the time, and . . . Oh no.” Martha slowly lowered the binoculars.
    â€œWhat is it?” asked Jim. “Jesus, those veins in your head are throbbing again.”
    Across the street, a ’72 Chevelle pulled up. The driver’s door opened. “Coleman, imagine our luck being able to rent a house so close to the Davenports. I can’t wait to see the look on their faces!”

Chapter Six
    THE NEXT MORNING
    Birds chirped.
    More accurately squawked. Green parrots. Flying over the light poles in the parking lot of the new Tampa Bay Mall.
    The stores hadn’t opened yet. Just janitors and power walkers with hand weights. Security bars began cranking up in front of the Cutlery Castle. Someone else turned on a stove at the Magic Wok.
    A mall cop strolled along the second level, past one of the power walkers who got a little ambitious.
    â€œNo running!” said the security guard. A corridor approached. The guard walked past the restrooms and knocked on the last door. He stuck his head inside. “You wanted to see me?”
    â€œCome in and have a seat,” said the assistant mall manager. Serious mouth. Holding a report in his hands.
    Five minutes later. “Son of a bitch!”
    â€œWe can’t have personnel yelling at children, and especially not mothers. They’re our best customers.”
    â€œWhat’s her name?” The guard lunged from his chair with an outstretched arm. “Let me see that fucking complaint!”
    The assistant manager yanked the complaint out of reach high over his head. “It’s anonymous.”
    The ex-mall cop stood. “I’m going to find out who reported me if it’s the last thing I do!”
    He flung the office door open. Someone was waiting in the hall; that person jumped out of the way as the fired guard stormed past.
    The assistant mall manager slipped the complaint in the top drawer of his desk, then smiled and waved for the person waiting in the hall to enter the office. “Come in, come in, Mr. Beach. Corporate told me you’d be here.”
    â€œPlease call me Jensen,” said Jim Davenport.
    â€œOkay, Jensen, pull up a chair.” The assistant manager took a seat behind his desk and leaned forward on elbows. “Now, what can I do for you?”
    â€œI’m sure you know that retail is in a slump.”
    The manager leaned back in his chair with fingers interlaced behind his head. “Yeah, everyone’s a little off. Sausage World pulled out last month. But it all goes in cycles; everyone bounces back.”
    â€œI’m happy to hear you see it that way.” Jim opened his briefcase on his lap. “That’ll make this go a lot easier.”
    â€œWhat do you mean by that? . . .”
    Five minutes later:
    â€œMotherfucker! You’re firing me ? Do you know anything at all about mall administration?”
    â€œNot remotely.”
    â€œSo you have no real basis to fire me instead of one of the other assistant managers.”
    â€œNot that I can think of.”
    â€œWhat about Johnson? He hasn’t been here half as long as me. It isn’t fair!”
    â€œYou’re right,” said Jim. “It’s not.”
    â€œGet out of my office.”
    â€œActually they said you had to leave . . .”
    â€œI’m not going anywhere.”
    â€œ . . . And if you said you weren’t going anywhere, I was instructed to call mall security.”
    â€œWe’ve got one guy working today,” said the assistant manager. “And he isn’t working here anymore—”
    A cell phone rang. Jim held up a finger to wait a second. He recognized the numerical display as the number of his supervisor at Sunshine Solutions. “Hello? . . . Yes, actually I’m here right now